#these playlists are my new stress relief lmao

[ashilrak]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love ♥️

I meant to do this the other day, but oop, here goes nothing:

HAUNT ME, THEN— (co-written with @mrthology)

Or, when Apollo cursed Kassandra before the Trojan War, it didn’t go as planned. Now, millennia later, Apollo and Kassandra are still stuck in an endless cycle of death and rebirth. Percy Jackson doesn’t know why people keep calling him Kassandra, or why he’s plagued by memories; all he knows is that he didn’t want to be a demigod.

There are a lot of reasons I have this as a favorite, but the biggest one is that this was a collaboration that has led to some big changes in my life and I couldn't be more grateful for it. It was also one I was just completely obsessed with while writing and took me through the emotional wringer, so bonus points.

The Murder Monologues (co-written with @theinevitablesense)

Stress came in many forms: work, pesky roommates, opinionated best friends, and attractive coworkers. Similarly, stress relief also came in many forms: knitting, music, cooking; Strangling people in their own homes. To each their own.

Bet you didn't think you'd see Hamilton on here lmao This is another collaboration and one that was genuinely so, so, so much fun to write. It is completely unlike anything else I've written, features a ship that doesn't really exist, and is such an off-the-wall AU. Like yes it's a Hamilton fic, but also. We played fast and loose with how criminal investigations work and talked about it like it was a comedy. We had a playlist that slapped featuring Razzle Dazzle from Chicago. If there's any fic of mine that could have its serial numbers filed off it's this one. Genuinely fun as shit and one I think about a lot.

See The Beast You Made Of Me

Percy Jackson thought he was done with prophecies, but the mist acting up means that it’s a revival or death. The Gods are calling for Rome to conquer and they want Percy to lead. Who better to shape their new Emperor than Apollo, already enlisted into Percy’s service for punishment? — Apollo grins down and leans in close enough that Percy can taste him. “I will make you greater than Augustus, more majestic than Hadrian, as clever as Marcus Aurelius," he says. Then with a flash of teeth, Apollo adds, "and as merciless as me.”

There are a lot of things with this fic I think I'd do differently now, and had I been the type to write in full and edit before posting I'm sure it'd look very different. But, I'm proud of this fic in the sense that it shows a lot of growth for me as a writer at this point. Obviously, I still have a lot of room to improve (and like to think I have since writing it), but it was a bit out of my comfort zone and I had a lot of fun pushing myself with it. Another one that's a bit off the wall, but sometimes that's the vibe.

Too Much To See Waiting In Front Of Me

Or: Paul takes Sally, Estelle, Percy, and Annabeth along on his family’s annual beach vacation

This is a simple one-shot, but it's one I love. I don't normally re-read my own writing, but this one I have. I don't know, it's cute and sweet and domestic and I like it.

Go On Shore (And It's Time For Us To Leave Her)

Or: Poseidon ventures west to see what's kept Ares so busy and finds a woman he can't get out of his head. Luckily for him, her time is for sale. Unluckily, Zeus is wary of any potential offspring and is sticking his nose where it doesn't belong. Sally and Poseidon both know how this ends; they can't help but fall anyway.

This might be another surprising one but, this is one of those ideas I just got really into. It's a historical Posally AU. I don't do much with Posally but boy is it something I love and have thoughts and feelings about. One of my majors in undergrad was history and I wrote a thesis on the economic and social pressures of prostitution in the Early American Republic which is where this idea came from. It was fun to jump back into that and bring in little tidbits while also playing with the idea of the Gods sticking their noses into the revolution and following years.

I've only included summaries to give a better impression of tone/vibes. If any catch your interest, please please please read ships, rating, tags, and warnings closely 🩷

[schrijverr]

for the writer’s wrapped: 3, 20, 27, 29, and 30:)

3. What work are you most proud of (regardless kudos/hits)?

Oehh, that's a hard one, I like all my works (bc i am very egotistical haha), but I am most proud of I Found Myself a Cheerleader and The Queer Lives of the Party-verse. I've finally been getting into writing longer works and I'm proud of managing longer stories, as well as experimenting with how to tell a story :D

20. Which work of yours have you reread the most?

Well, probably I Found Myself a Cheerleader, but mostly bc I had to edit that to hell and back as I posted/wrote it lmao. For my own enjoyment, though? I think it has to be My Stabwound, Not Our Stabwound from this year.

27. What do you listen to while writing?

Okay, so if you're wondering why my work is Like That lmao, I have a playlist that I called 'Melancholy & Sad Feels' for when I write, but I also listen to the Howl's Moving Castle soundtrack, the LOTR soundtrack (specifically the Two Towers) and this year a bit of Hozier's new album, but mostly my sad feels playlist lmao xp

29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?

Oef that's a difficult one! I think, I really like this bit of internal monologue from Religion of the All in the One:

He’s not brave enough to have other s question his Truth. The Truth that took his limbs and Al’s body, meaning that It still has them and It is the only thing that can give them back. Ed can’t waver in that belief, but putting it into words makes him sound insane. It’s better to be an atheist, who has a disdain for religion than a religious nut, who looks down on other religions, because he has proof of his God.

Because Ed and his realtionship to Truth is so fascinating to me and I do really like this take on him :D

30. Biggest surprise while writing this year?

That I managed to keep it up honestly haha, I thought for sure that it would be a slow year, because I have gotten my BA with an extra minor and have now started my master. I thought I would drown in work and not be able to indulge my hobby, but it's been a great stress relief and I've actually never written as much as I have this year (guess I really, really needed that stress relief lmao), which I'm very happy about, because I've had so many lovely interactions this year that have kept me going <333

~

Thank you so so much for this ask, I really enjoyed looking back on the year and reflecting. I hope you have a wonderful day <3

[skinni-girls-eat-books]

Thursday, January 25th, 2024!

12:49pm my brain feels so burnt out, it's difficult not to just return to bad habits. My body is tired and stress is wrecking my physical being. My back hurts, legs hurt, neck tension and headaches. Owch

Need to find better things to focus my little energy on. Things that feed me, I am very empty, like there's a hole at the bottom of me where everything leaks out. Old is bad, new is better. I want to stop going back to old, bad, tired situations. Nothing in the past changes. New is good.

Lots of just being in my own head, I want to get back to reality. I think that will help me not feel so floaty.

1:22pm omg I just realized my bad bitch playlist is public on Spotify and 6 ppl saved it?? Omg who are you guys and can we be friends what that just blew my mind and made my day how?? What?? I love it

3:24pm Reactive abuse is so real. I have to remember that I am NOT to blame for this shit. I actually didn't DO ANYTHING TO HIM WTF fuck him, he hasn't changed and only serves to prove me right and as a reminder again and again. I feel like he has moments where he'll admit this, or agree with me, but I think it's just breadcrumbing. Yeah so one day he says it's not my fault at all then the next day yeah it is kinda my fault like which one is it 😑 Rip but I know what I'm dealing with. The only reason I'm sad is bc the situation is so fucked up, it's more like grieving than actually being sad sad. It's just like damn wtf. I know I can pullllll when I want to though haha the issue is I just don't want to right now 🤭😁

I think I do need to get help for my depression/ anxiety though bc I don't want it to snowball into something so much harder to come back from. At least I'm aware of the issue, it's just deep rooted in me atm.

9:56pm Sat next to two of my bff's at the TB Lightening game tonight! Learned that there's 3 periods in hockey (I thought there was four) and the fights are REAL not like fake wrestling but the refs just stand there for too long and let them duke it out lmao?? I love my friends :)

Being happy lately results in me literally crying it's like feeling pure joy with no "waiting for the shoe to drop" :) I think I'm crying bc of relief? Grieving the fact that I was not happy for so long so I'm crying? Crying bc for example I've missed out on the past two years of these bc I didn't want to buy 2 tickets and for whatever reason.... It wouldn't work out or he would just be so embarrassing to me... Then it's going alone and ppl asking why he's not there?? It has been too much anxiety >> benefits in the past, but not anymore ❤️ I'm changing for the better. I miss the old me so much, but I know I'll love the new me even more.

Also yeah whatever technically some things were probably my "fault" bc of my anxiety...... But a partner who actually takes time to know you would be able to identify that or at least question the possibility that anxiety is a factor in decision making. But his actions/ emotional abuse >>>> way more impactful than just my social anxiety (plus I literally had the social anxiety for good reason if I can't take you anywhere without you smelling like weed and texting other girls while we're out).... Yeah I'm not fucking crazy, but I do need self-help. The intrusive thoughts are a lot still. They'll dull with time, even if it takes years I have a good feeling they will become submerged and buried under all the good memories I'll make. It's honestly already starting to happen if you ask me. I'm so ready for my birthday, what a new chapter I love it ❤️

11:45pm Went ahead and deleted the emails. He did not respond to me today so it's all moot point. He's abusive and idc if he doesn't know now and idc if he never figures it out. He's one out of 8 billion people on this planet and he needs to stay in the past. His loss I'm literally awesome af future doctor baddie and he's fucking retarded scrub bum byeeeee. Good way to end the evening ❤️

[cassandra-maston]

Into The Red - James Blake // Say It - Maggie Rogers // Numb Without You - The Maine // Heat (BYNON Remix) - Kelly Clarkson // Pretty - Terror Jr. // Almost (Sweet Music) - Hozier // Don’t Feel Like Crying - Sigrid // Overnight - Maggie Rogers // My Love Goes On - James Morrison ft. Joss Stone // Sure Shot - Bathe // KSB (Always On My Mind) - Rai-Elle // Call U Mine - Bailey Baum // Waiting For You - The Aces ( x ) 

Into The Red

@sodapopscott

@dovemitchell

@gordonwallace

@jasper-hutchinson

Say It

@marinalisbon

@tessa-lisbon

@reedslewis

@beforenovemberaddams

@themarielaalves

Numb Without You

@ram-the-man x @poppy-montenegro

@haileyvb

@ginasomethingbetter x @lennoncarroll

@phoenixalexanders

@thenewburymedal

Heat

@tallulahturnbald

@keegan-dolsen

@vsaugis

@wind-in-the-willow-balcoin

Pretty

@vsaugis

@queen-tinsley

@poppy-montenegro

@oliviadurai

@larkmumford

@mini-matthis

Almost (Sweet Music)

@devonte-vern

@penn-orville

@thedukbarnes

@wyattsaugis

@itsgillianstupid

Don’t Feel Like Crying

@m-fitzgerald

@larkmumford

@kashmira-multani

@junonam

@havencurriere

Overnight

@phoenixalexanders x @themarielaalves

@vsaugis

@kashmira-multani

@teagan-parkinson x @kitcruz

@wind-in-the-willow-balcoin x @t-perkins

My Love Goes On

@chase-mccarthysaxton

@dovemitchell

@lelandpalmer-chw

@p-addams

@diego--cruz

Sure Shot

@kingkidgrantwood

@sodapopscott

@call-me-two-bit

KSB (Always On My Mind)

@lelandpalmer-chw x @genevieve-young

@agnescohen x @jasper-hutchinson

@odessamcsaxton x @chase-mccarthysaxton

Call U Mine

@ginasomethingbetter

@wyattsaugis

@jadechw

@jarrahimi

Waiting For You

@dulcie-hernandez x @laylamrks

@beautyqueenbunny x @seuper-mario-bros

@nadinedahl

@ameliebeckers x @wyattsaugis

@tallulahturnbald x @lincoln-larkin

@m-fitzgerald

@tessa-lisbon x @sodapopscott

[cyancherub]

for the first time, adrift

this is part one of the miniseries and every season to come

kirishima eijirou x reader

dynamic // lifeguard!kiri x fem!reader

aged up characters (21+) - nsfw, minors do not interact

word count // 11k

warnings // very horny reader (lmao), lots of teasing, flirting + sexual tension, heavy size kink, masturbation (m + f), fantasizing: shower sex, oral (f receiving)

LINKS  //  masterlist  

NOTES

links // playlist + art by @anadandere​ 😩

a/n // thank you to all of my friends who let me ramble insufferably about this fic and lifeguard kiri, and a big thank you especially to @nekomamiiz​ for her visualizations of big dick tiny shorts kiri and for thirsting over him every day with me !!!

fyi // there’s some camie + bakugou in this for the sake of plot. also, there’s a lot of fluff in this chapter but the next is over 10k of filth 😏

The proposition comes late in the semester, when summer’s already arrived. That last minute proposal is so like your best friend — the scatterbrained, airheaded cheerleader you met in your freshman year of college and somehow made fast friends with.

“Why don’t you come with me this summer?” Camie’s chirping brightly. “I mean, this is basically our last summer. After we graduate next year, we’ll have to find real people jobs and work through the summer.” She crinkles her nose up in distaste.

You laugh. 

She’s invited you along before. Twice, actually — the summer between your freshman and sophomore year, and then again before your junior year. You’d declined both times, opting to stay home and work.

It just never seemed practical to waste a summer away on a beach island when you could be working toward your future.

“So?” Camie urges. “Will you come?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “I should probably stay home, get a job for the summer. Or two.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Camie complains. “You do this every single summer. You work so freaking much. Like last summer. Didn’t you have, like, three jobs?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “And they all look great on my resume.”

“Okaaaay,” she says, rolling her eyes. “And didn’t you call me every day to complain about how much you hated them?”

“No,” you lie.

“Yes you did,” she scolds. “Come on. You can work on the island. You know my family friends own that ice cream shop. We can work there for the summer and stay at their little beach cottage. It’s so cute. You’ll have a ball.”

“Working at an ice cream shop? Relaxing on the beach? How is this going to benefit me in the long run?” you tease.

“Forget about your future for once,” Camie grins. “Live in the present.”

“It does sound fun,” you admit with a sigh.

“It is. And you deserve a little fun. A little stress relief. This is the perfect place for it. Besides,” she pauses, pointing to the book discarded on your bed — a cheesy romance novel that you’ve read dozens of times — “maybe you’ll even have one of those summer flings you’re always reading about.”

You laugh. “That kind of stuff never happens in real life.”

“On the island it does,” Camie smiles. “It’s a place unlike any other.”

☀

That’s how you end up in the passenger seat of Camie’s shiny new Corvette on the last day of the semester, flying up the winding coast with all of the windows down. Absently, you wonder what the speed limit is — knowing that Camie couldn’t care less. So you just enjoy the feeling of the warm summer air turned cool as it buffets against your skin, sipping on one of the sodas Camie packed.

You stick your head a little out the window, feel the air stinging your skin. Breathe deeply, catching sight of a rundown gas station on the side of the road as you zip past.

“It smells amazing,” you say. “Fresh.”

“Because we’re getting further from the city and closer to the ocean,” Camie says, jerking her head to the side. The wind whips her hair; a few strands stick in her cherry lip gloss, before she swipes them away. “That’s the healing power of mother nature,” she grins.

“I haven’t seen the ocean since I was a kid,” you muse. 

“Now that’s a shame,” Camie laughs.

“Yeah. So tell me about it. The island, I mean. What’s it like?”

“Well, I’ve gone there since I was little,” she says. “You know that.”

“For family vacations, right?”

“Yup,” Camie says. “My dad would take us there for a couple months each summer.”

You nod, glancing at the white leather beneath your thighs. This shiny, luxurious car was Camie’s gift from her father last semester. A reward for keeping her GPA something marginally above average.

A gift from a man who could absolutely afford to take two months off of work to vacation on a resort island for two months out of each year.

“Lucky you,” you muse, smiling. “So you know people up there, right?”

“Yup,” Camie’s saying. “A group of friends I’ve had since we were kids. Met them on the beach, been friends ever since.”

“That’s cute,” you smile.

“Yeah. I don’t know how many of them still come to the island for the summer, now that we’re all older. A lot of them are working. Doing stuff for their internships. But a few of them lifeguard on the island for the summer.”

“Lifeguards, huh?” you tease.

“Uh huh,” she grins. “Beef cakes. You’re gonna love them.”

“So what, would you go for any of them?” you laugh, finishing off your soda.

“I’m actually talking to one of them,” she says. “Well. It’s been kind of an on and off thing. On for the summers, off for the rest of the year, I guess.”

“Don’t tell me he’s a massive tool like all the other guys you talk to,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“No comment,” Camie grins, turning the radio up.

You laugh and stick your head just slightly out of the window. You look up at the midday sun, breathe in the fresh summer air. 

Freedom. No obligations for the summer — at least, not any real ones. It’s a strange feeling. A little scary, for a person like you. 

You begin to doze off as she drives, with Dean Martin buzzing in your ears and the sun beating down on your skin. The wind on your face. And soon, you slip away into a dream of that little romance novel resting in your backpack, or something just like it — tan hands running up your sides, warm kisses in the summer sunlight.

☀

You wake to the sound of beeping horns and the sensation of the Corvette slowing to a crawl. Your eyes flutter open; you’re greeted by the sight of Camie gesturing wildly at the car beside you. 

“Oh,” Camie chirps, watching you awaken blearily. “Perfect timing, sleepyhead.”

She reaches her perfectly manicured hand forward, turning the radio down. “We’re just crossing the bridge to the island,” she says brightly.

“The bridge?” you yawn, looking forward at the gridlocked traffic. Then you look to the side, and below: to the vast body of water you’re suspended over. Your jaw drops open as you take in that beautiful sight: glassy water, bordered by huge, pastel-colored houses. The water is cut through by jetskis and boats full of people leaving long wakes.

“Wow,” you murmur.

“Cute, right?” Camie says, chipper. “Just wait until we get onto the island. You’re gonna love it.”

“I’m sure,” you say, as the car crawls over the bridge, watching the water intently — the way it glitters like diamonds in the sun.

“So we’re crossing the bay now,” Camie says. “It separates the island from the mainland behind us. And on the far side of the island is the beach. Of course.”

“Of course,” you grin, your attention stolen by the whimsical waterfront houses.

The traffic moves at a snail’s pace, but you’re more than content to close your eyes and breathe in the smell of the wind over the bay. The sun beams down on you; the sky is perfectly blue, not obscured by a single cloud.

And it’s not long — or, at least, it doesn’t seem long — before the end of the bridge is in sight.

The end of the bridge: the beginning of the island. It’s decorated with several large signs advertising the summer festivities: a kite parade, a festival, fireworks. On the biggest sign of all, a cartoon sun wearing glasses cheerily greets you:

Welcome to Blue Harbor Island Where all of your wildest dreams will come true!

“All of my wildest dreams, huh?” you tease, amused.

Camie smiles. “Come on,” she laughs. “You’ve got to have some kind of wild dream buried in that head of yours. It can’t be all lofty goals and shit like that.”

You can’t help the little grin on your face. What a place, you’re thinking. A place where all of your wildest dreams will come true. A place like no other, like Camie had said. A place that’s further removed from real life in heart than it is in distance.

“The cottage is smack in the middle of the island,” Camie says. “In a little borough called Sun City. This main boulevard we’re on runs the entire way down the island.”

As it turns out, the traffic also runs the entire way down the island. So, while Camie huffs in frustration at the wheel, you stick your head out of the window, taking in all of the adorable little shops perched right on the boulevard.

These are quirky little places, selling quirky little things — anchors, shells, souvenirs. For a killing, no doubt. But you can’t help but be enticed by the quaint charm of it all. You watch it all pass: book stores, ice cream shops, diners, pizza places galore. The sidewalks are crowded, filled with people having the time of their lives. Young couples soaking up the summer sun, fingers intertwined. Families with bathing suits on, laughing with ice cream cones clutched in hand.

“This is adorable, Camie.”

“I knew you’d love it,” Camie laughs. “You like to play Miss Practical, but I know you’re a sucker for stuff like this deep down.”

“Shut up,” you laugh. 

Before long, the two of you are passing through a residential area. The homes here are massive. Three stories or more, painted in bright pastels with white trim.

“Who owns all of these houses, anyway?”

“Families with money,” Camie says. “These are mostly summer rentals. People come up for the summer, bring their kids here to escape the real world.”

You nod. That’s what this is, after all — an escape. A little world of its own. An oasis. Safe harbor from all the troubles of the world.

With traffic, it’s about a half hour before you and Camie make it to the beach cottage. It’s a small place, especially in relation to the mansion next door. But it’s right up against the dunes, beachfront. All you have to do is walk up a ramp and then you’re there: on the shore. 

You can hear the waves crashing from inside the car.

Camie smiles over at you. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

☀

The cottage is small, but fully furnished. It’s decorated in blue and white and littered with various nautical tchotchkes — an anchor here, a shell there.

“Two bedrooms,” Camie’s saying, kicking her shoes off. She smiles over at you, leaning against the doorframe of one of the bedrooms. “Perfect,” she chirps. “Just in case Little Miss Romance Novel decides to bring one of her summer flings to life.”

“Whatever,” you laugh, peeking around at the open floor plan. The little kitchen bleeds into the living room, off of which lie a shared bathroom and two bedrooms.

“What a cute place,” you say.

“Right?” Camie says. “So convenient that it’s beach front, too. I used to stay here with my parents when I was younger. My dad and the owner are super close. Work buddies.”

“Wow.”

You’re so far out of your depth here. But you are here, after all. So why not enjoy it while it lasts?

“I’m here, and you’re there,” Camie’s saying, stripping off her tank top and pointing to the free bedroom. “Get settled, then get changed. Let’s go up to the beach and soak up some sun. We’ll see which lifeguards are working on this street, too,” she grins.

“Great,” you say, heading into the room that’s yours for the summer.

Once you’ve placed your bag on the bed, you walk around the room, inspecting all the little details. Like the rest of the place, it’s adorned with beachy decor. Shells, hand painted signs with corny little phrases. Sand in my toes, stuff like that. A little lamp in the shape of a beach chair rests on the nightstand. The bedsheets are decorated with a tiny shell pattern. You smile, charmed. 

You slip on your bathing suit, then peek at yourself in the mirror hanging on the back of the door. You look good. You feel good. And you’re excited to feel the sun on your skin again.

You’re just pulling a sundress over your bathing suit when Camie opens the door and peeks in.

“Look at you, gorgeous,” she whistles. “Your body’s bangin’.”

“Sure,” you laugh, rolling your eyes. You sling your beach bag over your shoulder. “You’re the bombshell.”

“Whatever,” she grins, walking into your room and looping her arm through yours. “You ready?”

“Yeah.”

☀

It’s a few long strides up the dunes, and then the blue of the ocean comes into view.

You pause for a second, drinking it in — quenched, just by the sight of it. Blue as far as the eye can see, stretching out endlessly to the right and left. The wide ocean: an endless, cerulean panorama.

You haven’t seen it in years, not since you were a kid.

And, still, you’ve never seen anything like this. It’s packed: umbrella to umbrella, towel to towel. Families, couples, groups of friends. Some people are laid out on brightly colored towels; others are sipping drinks in beach chairs. Many are lounging languidly in the sand.

The day is still every bit as beautiful as it was the moment you woke in Camie’s car. The sun is high in the sky. Bright and warm. The waves crash on the shore, a rhythmic lull.

“Let’s walk on the shore,” says Camie.

You follow her down the dunes, taking a deep breath of the salty air. The wind and sun battle for your attention, offering your skin sensations that feel, somehow, brand new.

As you approach the shore, you’re looking, awestruck, at the beautiful water glinting in the sun. The sand is fine under your feet; seagulls and terns soar through the air, buffeting above the waves.

“Beautiful, right?”

“Gorgeous,” you say, smiling.

“So, about the lifeguards,” Camie’s saying as she leads you toward the shore. “There’s a bench one street over. I’m not sure who’s working on which street this summer, but I thought we could take a walk up and see.”

“Why not text your, uh, boyfr—”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she corrects. “And he doesn’t know when we’re showing up. I wanted to surprise him. That’s how we start out all our summers.”

“I see,” you say, paying less attention to her and more attention to the feeling of the sand shifting under your toes as she leads you through the mess of bright towels and onto the wet sand.

You look back and forth between the crowd and the ocean as you walk, leaving footsteps parallel to the shore. You’re lost in the atmosphere of this place, falling for its tender charm. On your right, the crowd of people on shore is — how could you put it? — happiness encapsulated. You pass a group of children tossing small, brightly colored footballs through the air. Nearby, their parents are sprawled out: relaxed in the sun, with peaceful smiles on their faces.

Escaping.

Laughter carries through the air of this multicolored daydream.

On your left spans the bright blue ocean. Tame waves crash against the shore, leaving behind shells each time they recede, like gifts. You bend over to collect them as you walk, the cool water splashing against your ankles. The sun beats down overhead, warming your entire being.

You marvel at your little collection of shells as you walk, just like a child. 

Maybe that’s what you find so alluring about this place. That it frees you from the shackles of adult life and allows you to regress to the carefree existence you knew as a child. Maybe it lets you dream, uninhibited by the bindings of pragmatism —

“There he is!” Camie chirps suddenly.

You don’t even know how far you’ve walked now; you just know that there’s a lifeguard bench ahead, where Camie’s pointing. There’s a guy reclining there, with several girls surrounding him.

“Fucking asshole,” Camie mutters viciously as she trudges toward the bench. You pick up your pace, jogging to keep up.

“Don’t you have a job to do?” she shouts to the lifeguard over the wind.

The girls take their leave, probably frightened away by the horrific look on Camie’s face. The lifeguard looks over, and then his face breaks into a satisfied grin. Camie murmurs something nasty under her breath as you both approach the bench.

“Well, look who’s back around,” the lifeguard says, running his hand through his blond hair. He leans forward, looking down at Camie from his place on the bench.

“Same old same old from you, huh, Bakugou?” she chastises.

“You could’ve told me you were coming,” he grins. “I would’ve told the girls to fuck off before you got here.”

You laugh. That’s definitely Camie’s kind of guy.

“Where’s everyone else at?” she asks, once she’s introduced you. “Who’s all here for the summer?”

“Denki and Sero aren’t coming this year,” he says. “Everyone’s too busy. It’s just me and Kiri.”

“Boo,” Camie pouts. “Just you assholes? Where’s Kiri at? You guys always work on the same street.”

Bakugou laughs, gesturing behind you and Camie. “Kiri,” he shouts over the wind.

“Yeah,” comes a deep voice from behind you.

You turn around and find yourself staring into a tanned, muscular chest covered by a thin sheen of sweat. As you look upward for the face that matches that voice, your eyes travel up a bulky, heavily muscled frame. Solid shoulders, big traps. He’s towering over you, and everything’s just so big; it’s all heavy, powerful bulk.

And, finally, you focus on his face, locking in on a pair of curious red eyes that are fixed, intently, on you.

“Kiri,” Camie cries cheerfully. “Where were you?”

Kiri.

His hair is bright red, little tufts of it sticking out of the hat placed backward on his head.

He looks over to Camie, his face breaking into a jovial smile. “I went down to the ice cream truck,” he says brightly, holding up an unopened popsicle. The other is resting in his mouth, distorting his words slightly. “I heard the bells and had to go sprinting,” he jokes.

“What are you, a kid?” Camie laughs.

He laughs, removes the popsicle from his mouth. Licks its sticky, sweet juices off his lower lip. “It’s nice to see you, too, Camie,” he laughs. “It’s been a while.”

He pauses to toss Bakugou the unopened popsicle. You take the opportunity to look at his body as he twists, the thick muscle forming a well-defined V leading down to the waistband of his shorts. And those red shorts are almost laughably small: low on his waist, stretching around his bulky thighs… 

Maybe they don’t carry a size big enough for him? Because if you looked hard enough, you could probably see if everything’s as big as the rest of him —

“It’s nice to be back,” Camie’s saying. “This is my friend, y/n.”

Your eyes snap back up to meet his. He’s studying you closely now, looking down at you through thick, heavy black eyelashes. There’s a little nose piercing on his left nostril; it’s twinkling in the sunlight. He smiles, takes the popsicle out of his mouth, and takes a step closer to you. You can smell the sunscreen on his skin, the sweet aroma of the popsicle in his hand. Cherry, you think.

“Y/n,” he repeats amiably.

He extends a massive hand for yours.

Huge. He’s huge.

“Kirishima,” he says brightly. He shakes it, squeezes it a little. His hands are rough and warm. “But you can call me Kiri,” he says affably. You notice that he smiles widely, sweetly — so that his nose scrunches up a little, and the corner of his eyes crinkle up.

“Kiri,” you say, looking up at him with wide eyes. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Very nice, you think, struggling to keep your eyes on his face. You glance, just for a second, at his cut stomach. The oils on his skin highlight all ridges of muscle there.

“So who missed me?” Camie announces, turning back to Bakugou.

Finally, Kiri lets your hand go.

“Not a fucking chance,” Bakugou professes.

While the two of them start to bicker, Kiri turns back to you, smiling sheepishly. “Sorry,” he laughs. “I’d offer you some, but it’s kind of…”

You smile, thinking about that for a second: a big, beefy man offering for you to suck on his popsicle.

“Melted?” you laugh, watching some of the sticky liquid drip off the popsicle and onto his toned chest. It slides down between his pecs, drips slowly down his stomach.

“Oh,” he says bashfully.

“You’re totally wasting it,” you tease.

“Yeah,” he laughs. He wipes the sticky liquid up — trailing his finger up his abs, before cleaning it off on his tongue.

It’s too bad; you would’ve gladly licked it all up for him.

He sucks on his finger, then pulls it out of his mouth. “There,” he smiles.

Maybe it’s just the heat talking, but you think you might pass out, looking at his body glistening in the sun.

“Are you here for the summer?” he asks. “With Camie?”

“I am,” you say, watching him eat the rest of the popsicle off the stick. 

You’re catching quick glimpses of his body: the thick layer of muscle covering him everywhere. He’s just so big. Everything about him is. You’re looking at his arms, the heavy bulk. You’re thinking about how easy it’d be for him to pick you up and slam you against a wall. And you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about that, because you’ve only just met him… but now you’re picturing those big hands gripping your ass —

“That’s great,” he’s saying affably, licking the stickiness off his lips. He drops the popsicle stick in the pocket of those little shorts, then takes his hat off his head to run his hand through his hair. You wonder if it feels as soft as it looks. You watch his bicep flex, wide-eyed.

“You’re gonna have a great time here, y/n,” he says earnestly. “It’s a fun place.”

He places his hat back on his head and laces his fingers behind his head, adjusting his hat down. He holds that position for just a second: hands behind his head, arms flexed, his entire body so cut and thick. Butterflies are running wild through your stomach.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” you smile. “I mean, how could I not?”

“Yeah,” he says amiably. You like his voice: deep, masculine, but somehow still so open. You’re enamored with it, actually, wondering how it might sound teasing you, low and sweet in your ear.

Or maybe he’d sound even better talking breathily against your neck, with his big hands running all the way down your body —

“How are you liking it here so far?” he’s asking.

Maybe you’ve been reading too many of those romance novels.

“It’s amazing,” you say brightly. “And it looks like there’s so much to do.”

“Oh, there is,” he smiles, studying you with that sweet, sincere expression. He holds eye contact: steady and unabashed. Easy. For all of the masculine angularity of his face, his eyes are wide and pretty, framed by those heavy black eyelashes. “What kind of stuff do you like to do?” he’s asking.

“All kinds of things,” you say. “What’s fun?”

His eyes light up. “You have to go to the fair when it opens. The ferris wheel especially.”

“I’ve never been on a ferris wheel,” you admit, a little sheepishly.

“You’ve got to go,” he says. “You can see the entire shoreline from the top, it’s gorgeous —”

“Kiri,” Camie interrupts (in the way that’s so very her). You’re sad for it, because he looks so sweet when he’s wrapped up in what he’s saying like that. “What time are you guys out of here?” she asks pointedly.

“Five,” Kiri says. “Did you guys want to do something after?”

“I want to nap after,” Bakugou pitches in crabbily.

“For sure,” Camie says, disregarding him. “Let’s all do something afterward. And in the meantime, we’ll just stay here and hang out nearby. What do you say, y/n?”

“That sounds great,” you say, thanking your lucky stars that your sunglasses are in the bag slung over your shoulder. If you’re going to hang out nearby, you might as well admire the view while you’re at it.

And you should probably get a good look at the ocean, too.

“We’ll leave you boys to it,” Camie says.

☀

You and Camie are laid out on the beach not far from the lifeguard bench, relaxing on your towels. Well — Camie is, at least. You’re more occupied with stealing little glances at Kiri from behind your dark sunglasses.

He’s reclining on the lifeguard bench with Bakugou, legs spread out.

“Camie,” you hiss. “Your friend Kiri? He’s smoking hot.”

She laughs, lazily peeking over at you through a half-opened eye. “I saw you checking him out earlier. The look on your face was hilarious.”

“Was it that obvious?”

“Mhm,” she laughs. “I told you he was a beefcake. What do you think? Summer fling material?”

You chew your lip. “I mean, what’s he like?” you ask. “He seems really nice. But I feel like you never really know.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” she says. “He is super nice.”

“Is he?”

“Yup,” she says. “Always has been, since we were kids.”

You’re still enamored by the sight of him there on the lifeguard bench. You’re watching him talk, admiring the way he’s smiling and chatting brightly to Bakugou, who has a sour look on his face. Bakugou responds to something Kiri’s said, and Kiri grins suddenly — laughing about something. 

He picks up the water bottle beside him, uncaps it. Big arms flexing. Lifts it to his mouth and takes big gulps with his head tossed back. A little water goes spilling down his chin, drips down his neck and onto his chest. He recaps the bottle and licks his lips, grinning.

“His body…” 

“Oh, his body’s insane,” Camie laughs.

“So you’d never go for him?” you ask. “You never liked him?”

“Not my type,” she yawns, peeking over at Bakugou. “I prefer… uh… “

“Yeah,” you laugh. “Does he get around? Kiri, I mean.”

Camie shrugs. “I haven’t seen him date much. Maybe a few, over the years. He’s not a chaser, though.”

You look at him from behind your glasses again.

“You should go for it,” Camie’s saying. “You want him, right? What do you have to lose? Have some fun. It’s just a summer fling, anyway.” She yawns.

“You’re right,” you say. He looks over in your direction, just for a second. Smiles at you amiably. You smile back. “Just a summer fling,” you murmur, when he looks away.

You glance over at Camie. She’s resting in the sun; her eyes are closed, and her breaths are steady and soft. She’s probably already asleep, tired from the drive. So you rummage through the beach bag until you find the romance novel you brought along.

☀

You don’t know how much time has passed; you’re completely engrossed in your novel. Camie is still sleeping; the sun hits your back and the backs of your calves, hot. The scene you’re reading in that little romance novel of yours is also hot — and getting hotter by the second. You flip the page, your eyes poring over the words at the top of the next:

He dragged his fingertips slowly up her legs, resting them lightly at the apex of her thighs.

In those words, you’re imagining yourself. And him. Kiri. You’re imagining yourself shuddering under his touch. His big hands running all over you. Thick, long fingers tracing lightly up your thighs. Hands pressing into your waist. His mouth on your neck, murmuring soft, sweet words.

His tongue on your skin, hot and wet.

“What are you reading?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Kiri’s voice. When you look up, he’s towering over you, squinting down at you. You hadn’t even heard him approach over the insistent crash of the waves on the shore.

He crouches, resting his vascular forearms on his thick thighs — where those little shorts are riding up, exposing his tan line just slightly. He laces his big fingers together, looking down at you expectantly.

“Oh, nothing,” you laugh nervously, slamming your book shut. You’re desperately hoping that he didn’t catch a glimpse of that steamy scene you were just reading.

Now that he’s up close — just a few torturous inches away from you — you can smell the sunscreen heavy on his skin, see the sunlight filtering into his irises. That vivid red, brightened by the dark border of his eyelashes. The lifeguard whistle hangs off his chest, dangling in the air between you.

He squints down at your book, then rotates it slightly to look at the cover. “Sunset Girls?” he asks, studying the cover art: a silhouette of a couple embracing in front of the sunset. His mouth turns up in an amused, but not unkind, smile.

“It’s just a corny romance,” you admit, laughing.

“What’s it about?”

“A group of girls going away for the summer. Falling in love. Yadda yadda.”

He smiles, searching your eyes. “Are you a hopeless romantic?” he asks. You think your heart might melt at his expression: open, curious. Sweet.

“Maybe deep down,” you laugh. “Even though I shouldn’t be.”

“Why not?” he asks, sincerely.

“Well. You know. It’s not like I can just have my head in the clouds all the time.”

“Says who?” he smiles.

“The real world, I guess,” you laugh.

“Clouds are an important part of the real world,” he argues playfully.

You grin. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Besides,” he says. “What better place to have your head in the clouds than here? You should embrace it. Be the real you.” And he talks so candidly, so easily and non-judgmentally, that you find yourself charmed by his words, just like everything else about this place.

You want to continue the conversation, but before you can, Bakugou’s rounding your body to squat by Camie’s sleeping figure and pinch her cheek. She wakes with a disgruntled mutter.

“What time is it?” she asks blearily.

“Just past five,” Kiri says. “What do you guys want to do?”

“I don’t care,” Bakugou grumbles.

“Let’s go mini-golfing,” Camie chirps. “I saw on the way in that they renovated the old course in Bayside.”

Bakugou groans. “Mini-golfing? That’s so fucking boring. We’re not twelve anymore.”

“It’ll be fun,” Kiri promises, smiling down at you. “What do you think, y/n? Are you up for it?”

“Of course,” you say — excited for the night to come.

So the four of you head back up the dunes and toward the cottage, with Kiri easily shouldering all of your and Camie’s beach gear. Bakugou’s all grabby hands with Camie, leaving you and Kiri to walk together behind them. The two of you pretend not to notice Bakugou’s curious hand on Camie’s ass.

Kiri resumes your earlier conversation easily as you walk, asking about the plot of Sunset Girls. You skirt around the sex scenes, trying your best to remember and convey the actual plot (which is mostly nonexistent). Kiri listens intently either way, as if you’re saying something particularly interesting.

When the four of you make it to the front door of the cottage, Kiri sets the beach stuff down. He departs with a grumbling Bakugou and a promise that they’ll pick you and Camie up at 7:00 for mini-golfing.

☀

You’re waiting with Camie on the curb outside the cottage, in a light sundress. It’s a few minutes to seven, but the sun is still out, and the summer air is still so warm on your skin.

It’s 7:00 sharp when Bakugou and Kiri pull up on your street. Bakugou’s driving; the two of them are in a sleek black two door (daddy’s money written all over it). Clearly, it can barely accommodate Kiri’s massive frame in the passenger seat.

Kiri ducks out of the car right after it rolls to a stop, stepping out to lean down and move the front seat forward. While Camie climbs into the backseat, you greet Kiri. He smiles down at you widely, the stick of a lollipop peeking out the corner of his mouth.

He’s dressed light for the summer evening: a thin T-shirt that (mercifully) falls over the contours of his chest, lightweight shorts that actually fit him. You mourn the loss of those tiny lifeguarding shorts, glancing at his worn-in Vans.

“How’s the place?” he asks, jerking his head toward your little summer house.

“So nice,” you say. You smile to yourself; you’re daydreaming of him reclining, shirtless, on the pillows of that little bed, in that little room — absolutely dwarfing all of his surroundings. “Have you been inside before?”

“Never,” he says, pulling the lollipop out of his mouth.

Well — maybe you can change that this summer.

He steps aside; you climb into the backseat, and he settles back into the passenger seat, shutting the four of you in.

As Bakugou pulls down the street, Camie leans forward. She wraps her arms around the headrest, tangling her fingers up in Bakugou’s hair. He grumbles.

Kiri leans his elbow onto the center console, adjusting his body to look back at you. He looks laughably large in this car, his head nearly scraping the roof of it. He takes his lollipop out of his mouth, opens it to say something.

“Mini golfing is so boring,” Bakugou interjects irritably.

Kiri grins at you, rolling his eyes at Bakugou’s words and sticking his tongue out of his mouth. He’s boring, he mouths.

You laugh; Bakugou looks over at Kiri suspiciously. 

“What?” he demands.

“What?” Kiri asks innocently, before grinning goofily back at you.

You smile back, looking at all the sharp angles of his profile when he turns away. You watch him stick his tongue out, licking up the side of the lollipop. You wonder if he’s good with his mouth, how his tongue might feel traveling up the inside of your thighs.

You run your eyes all over him, taking in the bulk of his arm resting on the center console, his tricep stretching the sleeve of his shirt. The curve of his back under the thin fabric.

“Remember when you used to work at the mini golf course, Kiri?” Camie laughs.

“We don’t talk about that,” he says.

“Why, because you had to wear that dweeby uniform?” Bakugou laughs.

“Fuck off,” Kiri laughs, bashful. You can see him blushing, that red dusting his cheeks; you find it so endearing. “I’ll still crush you all at minigolf,” he jokes.

You’re lost in thought as Camie teases him over the uniform, too busy breathing in the deep scent of his cologne as the scent wafts into the backseat. You’re fantasizing about how he really could crush you if he wanted. That blush on his cheeks, his flushed face — you’re imagining it in a different context. In your head, he looks up at you feverishly as you straddle him, with two huge hands squeezing the flesh of your ass hard.

He turns back around to talk to you jovially about the various mini-golf places on the island, and why the one you’re going to is the best out of all of them. He’s just as easy to talk to as he was earlier today.

And by the time you’re pulling up at the mini-golf place, you feel like you might explode from wanting him so much.

☀

The four of you have just made it to the final hole. Camie and Bakugou have long since given up any serious attempt at winning (in favor of flirting with each other). So it’s come down to you and Kiri competing for victory. You’re holding up pretty well, actually, considering that you’re currently tied with him.

And now for the final round.

It takes you three concentrated taps to get the ball in the hole. When you turn around after your turn, you catch him staring. His eyes are glued on your thighs; they’re exposed in the warm summer air, peeking out from the bottom of your tiny sundress.

He meets your eyes, blushing. Caught. You grin.

“Can you beat that?” you tease.

“We’ll see,” he laughs, bashful.

While Camie and Bakugou flirt off on the side, paying absolutely no attention to the game, Kiri’s concentrating on hitting the ball. He’s squinting at the hole, his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth just slightly. His expression is so innocent, so boyish; you can’t help but smile.

He taps the ball.

It just narrowly misses, coming to rest a few inches off. It’s clear that this’ll be an easy win in two strokes; all he has to do is tap it and it should go rolling right into the hole. 

But it isn’t an easy win, because he hits it way too hard. It goes bouncing right over the hole, rolling a few inches off to the other side.

“Oops,” he says, laughing guiltily, as if it weren’t deliberate.

“No way,” you scoff.

He misses another easy attempt and finally gets it in on the fourth try — meaning you win narrowly, by just one stroke.

“Did you really just let me win?” you laugh.

“No,” he pouts, even though he obviously did. “You were just too good.”

“Suuure,” you say, as the four of you make your way to the course exit, dropping off the clubs on the way out.

Bakugou and Camie trail a few feet behind you and Kiri, arguing over who lost worse between the two of them.

You roll your eyes and smile, turning to him. “You totally threw the game.”

“I just couldn’t compete,” he grins, running a hand through his hair. “What can I say? You smashed me. Pretty embarrassing, since I was supposed to be the mini-golf guy.”

You tsk, shaking your head. “So what do I get for winning, mini-golf guy?”

“What do you want?” he smiles.

You open your mouth to answer, but you’re cut off by Camie squealing something. When you and Kiri look backward, you find that Bakugou’s overeager hands are pinching and prodding at her again.

“Sheesh,” Kiri laughs, kneading his neck awkwardly. “Maybe you guys should get a room or something.”

“No kidding,” you laugh.

Bakugou and Camie exchange a scheming glance.

“You know what?” Bakugou grins, rummaging through his pocket until his hand reappears, brandishing his car keys. “I think we will.”

“What about —” Kiri starts, but Bakugou’s already tossing him the keys. 

“How are you gonna get back?” Kiri pouts, stuffing the keys into his pocket.

“We’re gonna take an Uber back to our place,” he says to Kiri.

“Huh?”

“Give us a few hours,” says Bakugou.

“A few hours?” Kiri laughs. “That’s a little overconfident, don’t you think?”

“Fuck you,” Bakugou sneers as Camie laughs, hooking her arm through his.

“You’ll take good care of her, right, big guy?” Camie asks Kiri, batting her lashes.

He pauses to look down at you, blushing. You’re flustered, too; the two of you just look at each other awkwardly for a second — confused, but not unhappy, with the turn of events.

“Yeah, they’re fine,” Bakugou’s laughing. And when you look back over at them, he’s already pulling Camie down the sidewalk and away from you. She looks back over her shoulder, calling out a hasty goodbye.

And now the two of you are stranded, watching them walk away. As they disappear into the thick, meandering crowd of people, you’re wondering what the hell just happened. You turn to Kiri, only to find that he’s already looking down at you, chewing on his lip thoughtfully with his hands in his pockets.

“Do you want to —” he says, at the same time as you start to talk.

“Sorry,” you laugh sheepishly. “Go ahead.”

“I’m sorry,” he says bashfully. “Do you want me to take you back to your place?”

You’re hell-bent on taking advantage of the chance that just fell into your lap. “Absolutely not,” you say, a little too enthusiastically. For a second, you’re a little embarrassed by your own enthusiasm, until you see his face break into a wide smile. From his expression, it’s completely clear — he’s just as grateful for this situation as you are.

“I’m having a great time,” you say. “No thanks to Camie and Bakugou.”

He laughs. “Me too. Are you hungry?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit.

“Come on,” he says, smiling down at you. “I know a place. Let me reward you for that little win of yours.”

The two of you wander down the sidewalk. Kiri’s talking brightly as you do, pointing out certain restaurants that he likes, recommending places he thinks you might like. He tells you random facts about certain shops: which ones are new, which ones have been there forever, which ones he worked at for just a bit, during which summer.

He asks you about yourself, too — about your major, your interests, your hobbies, listening intently to everything you have to say.

You like talking to him. You like hearing the places he likes. The places he knows. And you like being out with him, watching countless faces pass by. There’s something peaceful about it. Something inexplicably romantic and intimate about being together in a place so full of strangers, knowing just each other.

You breathe in the salty air traveling in from the ocean. It’s cooled off a little since the sun went down.

The true charm of this place, you think, comes at night. You find it incredibly beautiful, the way the shop displays light up in whimsical colors. Couples pass by, basking in the warm summer air, hand in hand. Everyone is smiling here. Everyone is happy. Living in the moment, and enjoying it completely.

Like Camie said — it’s a place like no other. You’re starting to get that now.

“It’s up here on the corner,” Kiri’s saying.

The place you’re heading for is right up ahead. It’s a little diner that looks and feels different from all of the shops you passed on the way. It has a different kind of charm: a quaint one. It’s a little rundown; one of the letters in the sign is dimmer than the others, and another is flickering.

“I used to come here with my family,” he’s saying. “It never really kept up with the times, and it’s not the prettiest on the outside, but the food’s still great.”

“Well, I think it looks nice,” you muse. Because, really, you do.

“Me too,” he says. “And the best part about it is that there’s not usually a wait, since it doesn’t really catch the eye.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “It’s a special spot. A hidden gem, or something like that.”

You’re studying the facade of the worn down old building, thinking about that. You can see why a spot like this would be special to a guy like him. If the other little shops drew you in with a sort of beguiling whimsy, this is something much more earnest. There’s nothing about it that’s crafted to draw you in; it just does so on its own, enticing you with a warm coziness.

It looks like a place that has a story to tell.

It’s a fitting place for a guy like him, you think — the both of them just dripping with so much earnestness.

Now Kiri’s grabbing the old door to the diner and holding it open for you. An ancient old bell above tinkles, a soft welcome.

“So what’s all good here?” you ask, stepping through and into the warm light.

“Best milkshakes around,” he says brightly. “No contest.”

“Milkshakes,” you grin. How romantic, you’re thinking. How sweet — to be going to a diner that has the best milkshakes in town. It really is like something right out of one of those romance novels.

In this moment, you’re deeply grateful to Camie for nagging you into coming here.

It’s a seat-yourself place, as it turns out. The smell of fryers is heavy in the air, but not in an unpleasant way; the floors are checkered and worn, scuffed from footsteps over the years. Kiri’s leading you over to an isolated little corner of the diner, far away from everyone else.

You watch him walk as you follow. You’re remembering that view you had earlier today. That tanned skin in the sunlight. You look at his arms as he walks; his hands are in his pockets, and your eyes are fixed on his forearms and all of the veins snaking down them.

“Is this okay?” he asks, once he’s led you to a comfy-looking little booth.

For a second, you imagine him asking you that question in a different context. From between your legs, maybe, looking up at you from beneath his heavy eyelashes, with one hand on his dick.

“Of course,” you say, scooting onto the bench closest to you.

He settles in opposite you.

There are menus already laid out on the table; you study yours with your chin cradled in your hand.

“What flavor’s good?” you ask, looking up at him. “For the milkshakes, I mean.”

“Strawberry. Vanilla, too. And chocolate.”

“So, all of them?” you tease.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Basically. Which do you want?”

“Hmmmm,” you say, nudging his foot under the table with yours. He looks at you, wide-eyed. “Why don’t you pick a flavor for me?” you tease.

“Strawberry,” he says, immediately.

“Why strawberry?”

“You seem like a strawberry kind of girl,” he laughs bashfully.

You smile. “And why’s that?”

He’s starting to blush again. You find it so sweet. So enticing. He’s an even bigger sweetheart than Camie made him out to be.

“I don’t know,” he laughs. “That’s my favorite flavor. It seems like you, somehow.”

The waitress — an older woman, who looks worn out from the day — approaches then, and her face breaks into a smile when she sees Kiri. She knows him somehow; you suppose it makes sense, given the size of a place like this. She makes small talk about his family; he answers everything cheerfully, and then introduces you to her by name. And then he gives her his order, and yours.

“Are you from around here?” you ask Kiri as the waitress takes her leave.

“I’m not,” he says. “But I’ve been coming here for the summers since I was a kid. With my family. Like Camie.”

“Oh, really?” you ask. You want to know more about him. You could listen to him talk all day.

“Yeah,” he says, in that easygoing way of his. “And now that I’m old enough to work…” he trails off, shrugging. “That’s what I do.”

You nod. “You’re in school too?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he nods. “I just come up to work for the summers and save up. As long as I’m in school and I can still do it, why not? It’s a nice little escape.”

You ask him a little more about the logistics of coming up each summer. Apparently, he, Bakugou, and a few other guys they know usually stay at Bakugou’s summer house. You’re thinking about that sleek black car Bakugou rolled up in earlier, wondering if the ‘summer house’ isn’t something more like a mansion.

Kiri tells you that this is the first summer it’s just him and Bakugou. The rest of their friends are busy with internships and jobs and can’t make it up to the island. You ask about each of them, and Kiri describes them fondly.

You learn a lot about him, too. He’s a psych major, studying at a college that’s about the same distance from the island as yours is, but in the opposite direction. He’s talking about the classes he’s planning on taking next semester when the waitress comes back with your milkshakes.

They’re huge — ridiculous portion sizes in thick glasses that are almost laughably large. Kiri’s face breaks into a delighted grin as he watches you apprehensively put your straw in the glass. He waits expectantly for you to take a sip.

As soon as you do, he asks brightly, “How is it?”

“Amaaazing,” you say. You lick the mess off of your lip, not missing the way his eyes linger on your mouth for just a fraction of a second too long.

“Great,” he smiles, boyish. He’s leaning his weight forward onto the table now, his big fingers laced together as he lowers his head to take a sip of his.

“It’s so nice here,” you say between sips. “I don’t blame you and Camie for wanting to come back every summer.”

“It’s the nostalgia, you know?” he laughs.

You smile, sipping on your milkshake. It’s as good as he promised. Maybe even better. It tastes like you imagine his nostalgia feels. “I can imagine. For sure.”

“I hope you have a great time here,” he says sincerely.

“I already am,” you say pointedly, bumping your foot against his. 

“Yeah?” he says, momentarily flustered. You keep your foot there under the table, pressed right up against his. “Me too,” he says.

There’s a slight shift in the air after that blatant little exchange. You’re being much more forward than you’d usually be, but it feels freeing, in a way. Maybe it’s because of what Camie said up on the beach.

You want him, right? Have some fun.

You’re going for it. That was the entire reason you came here, right? To indulge.

And what’s more indulgent than this?

Kiri’s leaning a little further forward over the table now as he talks — just slightly, subconsciously. The both of you keep sipping on your milkshakes, and you’re lost in the conversation and the pleasant buzz of his voice in your ears.

“So why’d you end up coming up here?” he’s asking now. “Other than Camie, I mean.”

“Well. Camie got all existential on me to come here, saying it was the last summer I’d probably have the chance to. She’s been bugging me to come for the last few summers.”

“No way,” he says, wide-eyed. “You’re telling me I could’ve met you years ago?” he teases, grinning.

You break eye contact, smiling down at your half-full glass. “It’s definitely a shame.”

“Well,” he smiles. “I guess we’ll have to make up for lost time. There are so many things you’ve been missing out on.”

Like you? you’re thinking.

Kiri’s telling you about what you have to do and see, now that you’re here. The kite festivals, the lifeguard races, the concerts. And then there are all of the little things, he says, with a faraway smile on his face: sunsets on the bay, the stars over the beach at night.

He comes back to earth suddenly. “You should definitely check them out,” he says, slightly embarrassed. 

But you’re already too far gone: completely charmed, imagining yourself doing all of these things with him. You’re wondering why this is so easy. He’s so easy to talk to: a good conversationalist, an even better listener. It’s almost uncanny — like you’ve met him before.

You’re wrapped up in the thought of doing all of these things, imagining doing them all with him. Your milkshake is gone before you know it; you push the glass aside to sip on your water, crunching absently on an ice cube.

“You shouldn’t do that,” Kiri pouts. “It’s bad for your teeth.”

“Really?” you ask innocently, crunching harder. “Should I stop?”

“You better,” he jokes, finishing off his milkshake.

“Why don’t you make me?” you laugh, crunching some more.

“Make you?” He cocks his head a little to the side, grinning. “How do you want me to do that?” he laughs, leaning further forward over the table now — tension hanging heavy in the air. You bask in it for a second, looking at him with your heart in your throat. It only breaks when the waitress stops by to drop the check.

You reach for it, but he snatches it up quickly, laughing.

“Let me pay,” you pout, grabbing for the check presenter.

“Uh uh,” he laughs. He holds it up and out of your reach, smiling down at you teasingly.

You sigh, watching him count bills with his tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. He pulls a generous amount for the tip, then slides it under the milkshake glass.

He stands up from the booth, extends a hand, and helps you up out of your side. While you’re adjusting your dress, his phone chimes, and he digs it out of his pocket.

“I guess they’re done,” he says ruefully. “It’s a bummer I don’t have my car.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh — even though you’re a little sad over it, too. “There’s always next time.”

☀

Kiri drives you leisurely back to Camie’s place; you’re fairly sure the lazy pace is deliberate. He tells you funny stories as he drives, mostly about Camie. Right now, he’s talking about the debacle last summer on the dock. Apparently, she’d been so drunk that she’d fallen right over the railing and into the bay, and he’d had to jump in and grab her.

“Good thing you’re a lifeguard,” you laugh.

“Yeah,” he grins. And then the two of you are pulling back up to the cottage, and the night is over too soon.

Well — maybe not. Camie’s car isn’t in the driveway, which means she and Bakugou had probably taken the Uber back here to get it. And they’re still out, which means… 

Kiri parks on the side and shuts off the ignition, laying his head back on the headrest. Then he looks over and down at you, smiling slightly.

“I had a good time with you tonight,” he says. “I’m glad they took off.”

“Me too,” you say.

You look downward, watching his big hand toy absently with the gear shift. Then you look up at him, meeting his eyes.

You’re just dying to get those hands on you.

It’s killing you.

“Kiri,” you say, leaning over the console, just slightly.

Instinctively, his eyes flick downward, to your chest — where your dress is falling forward. He looks back up at your face, blushing slightly. He shifts in the seat, taking a deep breath.

The look on his face says everything you need to know.

So you unbuckle your seatbelt, leaning further forward over the console; he leans forward, too, breathing hard.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he says. “I wanted to tell you earlier, but I didn’t want it to come off wrong or …”

He trails off as you place your hand on his. From that breathlessness in his throat, the strain in his voice, you can hear exactly what he wants.

“I want you,” you say, with your heart in your throat.

He takes a hazy breath, leans forward to close the gap.

His lips brush against yours, lightly at first — a closed mouth kiss. You squeeze his hand urgently. Then you both arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His hand comes to rest on your waist, lightly at first — just idling there, so large on your body.

You tilt your head a little to the side, parting your lips. Feel his hand tighten on your waist, just a little. You push your tongue past his lips, taste the strawberry there. Breathe him in: cinnamon, aromatic and deep. His hand slips further down your waist, cupping your hip, squeezing you lightly through the thin fabric of your dress.

You trail your fingers just above his waistband, feel his breaths hitch, tasting each one. And as you slip your fingers under his shirt, trailing them up his abs, he starts to shudder. His hands get a little needier; he squeezes you harder, moving his fingers further down your side. His tongue pushes deeper into your mouth.

His hand leaves your side to span your leg, just above your knee. He moves it upward slowly — his thumb tracing up your inner thigh — as his tongue explores your mouth. 

“Can I?” he asks, pulling back breathlessly — halting his curious fingers right at the bottom of your dress, the perfect gentleman.

“Please.” 

“Fuck,” he says. He slips his hand under your dress, brings his mouth to your neck. “Baby.” Breathy — the word just a low murmur against your neck.

You wrap a hand up in his hair, feel it slip — soft — between your fingers. His thumb grazes over the skin at the tops of your thighs, teasing you lightly.

“I need it,” you say, pulling on his hair.

He squeezes your thigh harder, his kisses hot and wet on your neck. You let out little moans, sighs, hazy mms. His free hand comes to envelop the back of your neck, keeping you still so he can mark your throat between heavy breaths.

He keeps teasing your upper thigh with his thumb — so close, almost there. Almost close enough to feel how wet he’s making you. You’re spreading your legs — wanting him so much, desperate to feel his fingers on your pussy, gasping with each lick to your neck.

“You’re getting me so wet,” you murmur, hot breaths hitting the wet skin on your throat — the air in the car hot, thick. His thumb rubbing little slow circles on your thigh.

“I wanna feel how wet you can get,” he pants against your neck, continuing to suck it, nipping the skin softly.

“Touch me,” you beg, tugging on his hair, running your fingers through it. “Please.”

So he does, finally — bringing his fingers up from your thighs as he licks up your neck. He kisses your jaw lightly, and when you’re shuddering, he grazes his fingers over your panties, teasing your clit.

“God,” he says softly, rubbing your clit gently through the fabric. “Fuck.”

His fingertips trail down, until they’re exploring the wet fabric covering the entrance of your pussy, feeling how dripping wet you are from all of the teasing.

It’s right when his fingers are slipping under the hem of your panties that a car horn beeps, headlights shining brightly into the back window of the car.

The two of you pull apart breathlessly, feverish and frustrated, pretending you were just sitting innocently a second ago. Kiri laughs, running his hand through his messy hair. 

You both squint out the driver’s side window as Bakugou and Camie roll up next to you in her car.

Kiri rolls his window down.

“You better not be fucking in my new car,” Bakugou’s yelling.

“Fuck off,” Kiri laughs bashfully, moving in the seat.

You glance down at his lap as he adjusts his shorts. In the dim streetlight, for a fraction of a second, you can see the massive shape of his dick pressing against his thigh.

So everything is as big as the rest of him. You press your thighs together in frustration. So close. You’re dying for more; you’re thinking about how heavy and hot his dick would feel wrapped up in your hand. How it’d feel inside of you, stretching you out. If you had it your way, you’d ask him to drive you somewhere right now so you could find out.

But this is Bakugou’s car, after all, and it wouldn’t be very polite of you to do that — no matter how much you want to climb over and fuck Kiri in the front seat.

You curse Camie internally for showing up when she did, watching her car pull into the little driveway of the cottage.

“S-so,” you start, at the same time that he awkwardly clears his throat and looks down at you.

He laughs; it eases some of the tension in the air. “Sorry. Go ahead,” he says.

“When are you free next?”

He chews his lip, tapping his fingers on the gearshift. “I’m lifeguarding tomorrow during the day, but what about at night?”

You sigh, remembering something Camie had said in the car on the way here. “I think Camie wanted to show me around the island tomorrow night.”

The disappointment that crosses his face almost makes you laugh; you feel the exact same way.

“The day after?” he says hopefully. “I’m off all day.”

“Me and Camie too,” you say. “If both of you guys are off, I’m sure Camie’s gonna want us all to hang out during the day, knowing her. But maybe we can ditch them at night.”

“Yeah,” he grins. “We can pay them back for earlier.”

“Exactly,” you laugh. “What do you wanna do?” Other than the obvious, you think.

“I’ll surprise you,” he says brightly. “I have a few things in mind.”

“You’re sweet,” you smile.

“Come on,” he says sweetly, pulling the keys out of the ignition. “I’ll walk you inside.”

☀

Once you’ve showered, and once Camie’s teased you over Kiri (and the fact that you exchanged numbers with him) to her heart’s desire, you lock yourself in your bedroom. You settle into bed and pick up your phone. That incident in the car has you so worked up; you’re dying to talk to him again tonight, even if it’s just to exchange pleasantries.

To: kiri - hey!

While you wait for him to respond, you figure you’ll pick up your steamy little romance novel where you left off. You open it to that line —

He dragged his fingertips slowly up her legs, resting them lightly at the apex of her thighs.

You’d forgotten that you’d left off there. You bite your lip, trying to focus on the book, and not the memories you have of Kiri teasing you through your panties in the car.

He responds a good twenty minutes later, while you’re in the middle of reading about the protagonist of your novel getting railed within an inch of her life.

From: kiri - hey, sorry! i was in the shower

The shower? you think to yourself, your head immediately filling with a dozen dirty scenarios of you and him in the shower together.

From: kiri - i had a lot of fun with you tonight

To: kiri - me too :)

You bite your lip, thinking about what you should say next. You want to keep this conversation going — to see exactly where it might go — but you’d rather that happen in person. You should save it for later.

To: kiri - you should rest up for tomorrow! do you start early?

From: kiri - haha yeah, 9 AM! i should get to bed

From: kiri - but ill talk to you tomorrow?

To: kiri - for sure :)

You put your phone on the nightstand, still imagining him in the shower. How exactly he’d look.

Wet. Droplets of hot water collecting on his flushed skin, falling from the tips of his hair, running down his chest and the veins on his arms. Rivulets snaking down his abs, down his lower stomach. Little droplets resting on his lip — his tongue darting out to lick them off.

You wonder how hot he likes the water when he showers.

You’re imagining him leaning forward in the steam, resting his weight with one hand on the tile and the other on his dick. His breaths hitching as he strokes it. Wet, heavy eyelashes fluttering.

And while you’re thinking about how his voice would sound as he moans, you’re slipping your fingers between your legs. You dip them inside your pussy, knowing he’d fill you up so much better. You’re thinking of that glimpse you got of his dick — how long and thick it is. How amazing it’d feel stretching your pussy out.

You think of that sweet little is this okay? back in the diner. While you massage your clit, you imagine him asking you that in the shower, with his face buried between your thighs. His tongue licking your sensitive clit, his big hands grabbing your ass cheeks, spreading them.

That little breathy fuck he’d sighed in the car.

Baby. His tongue pushing inside your pussy, wet and hot. Your hands wrapped up in his hair as he fucks your sensitive insides with his tongue.

His sweet voice in your ear. I wanna feel how wet you can get.

You imagine yourself pushed up against the wall, with your cheek on the tile. His tongue on your neck, big hands squeezing your tits. One leaving your chest to snake down your stomach so he can tease your clit.

Fuck. Baby. In that low, hazy voice. You on your tippy toes, his dick pushing inside of your pussy, getting all coated and slick. Him pushing his hips forward, burying the whole thing in you, over and over again, until —

You let out a little whimper, cumming on your fingers, with his name on your tongue.

And when you sleep, you dream of him: of hot, wet kisses that taste like strawberry milkshakes and cinnamon.

[mayhem24-7forever]

Tagged by: @loverhymeswith Thank you!!!

Rules: tag a few people you want to know better; make a new post, don’t reblog!

Favorite color: Navy blue with white polka dots (or purple)

Currently reading: I JUST finished an immaculate book called "To Marry and To Meddle" by Martha Waters and I cannot recommend that book/series enough, it's like an even funnier Bridgerton full of my favorite romantic tropes. I'm about to start "A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Mayhem" by Manda Collins so I'll see if it's good

Last song: right now I'm listening to a Rick Flag enemies to lovers playlist I found on spotify (DON'T JUDGE ME) and the song that just came on is "Can't Sleep" by K.Flay

Last series: I'm part way through season two of The Killing, which I am watching specifically just for Joel Kinnaman because I love him even if this character/show is giving me so many different and complex feelings.

Last movie: Last new movie I watched was The Lost City but the most recent film I've seen was when I rewatched The Suicide Squad so I could stare at Joel Kinnaman

Sweet, spicy, or savory: SWEET

Coffee or tea: Either one as long as it's drowning in cream and sugar

Three ships: bruv usually I just ship myself with the characters lmao but Druig x Makkari (Eternals/MCU), Buddie (9-1-1), and Faramir x Eowyn (Lord of the Rings) come to mind as ships I've recently thought about

First ever ship: probably Aurora x Phillip in Sleeping Beauty, that shit was my DRUG as a child but like the first ship that I was like a tumblr-level stan of was probably destiel from supernatural

Currently working on: chapter 5 of Lose You Too (I swear I'll get it done, I just have such a hard time writing fluff compared to smut and angst lmao)

Favorite piece of clothing: My Joe Mazzello/D-Backs jersey from the movie Undrafted, it's so comfy, I love sleeping in it

Comfort food: sushi, panda express, or wendys depending on what level of comfort I need and what mood I'm in

Favorite time of year: honestly probably october because it's my birthday month and halloween and stuff

Favorite fanfiction: It's hard to pick a favorite so I'll pick a favorite from each of my favorite fic authors, (consider this a Jo's fic recs lol) I am OBSESSED with "The Princess and the Vigilante" series by @theowritesstuff, "The Babysitter Saga" by @klmurr, the "Stockholm Syndrome" series by @missemimori, "So Like Porcelain" by @honeycombstrawberry, pretty much anything @loverhymeswith has written for Takeshi but especially "Home", "Life to Come" by @damnedparker, "Kill of the Night" by @babblydrabbly, "Eternity" by @a-reader-and-a-writer, "Yes Sir" by @lunaticsandidiots, "Window Repair" by @neptuneswritingwork, and "Stress Relief" by @lacontroller1991 (guys there's so many more I'm exercising sooo much restraint right now)

No pressure tags for peeps I would like to get to know better: everyone I tagged in the fanfiction section and @rishlurh, @all-the-things-i-done, @chaseadrian, @allourstarsareshinning, @likedovesinthewnd

[littlelittlebear]

Two Drifters | 3/3 Jeronica Secret Santa

@fangstomysweetpea oh my god.... its finally time!!! 

The moment i’ve been aching for is finally here and i am HYPE

Happy Christmas my dear Tumblr-friend, I hope you enjoy this jeronica playlist/au/riverdale rewrite.

A couple things first, the descriptions on each song are just an outline as to whats happening in that moment/what the song calls for. Also, this is like a story, so its not really something you can play on shuffle lol. I’m confident you didn’t really need these “instructions” lmao, just want you to have a bomb-ass jeronica experience XDD

Also, you don’t have to “follow” the descriptions when you think them out, you can completely take the reigns too if you’d like!

So.... here ya go!!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1MflcKtyBDRjnP0giX03X4?si=ZcsD0GfxR0KevhgDpTZVKQ

And here are the descriptions-

Oxford Comma-

Locking eyes for the first time… wow. Just- everything is in slow motion.

Baby Doll-

Slow dancing in Pop’s after the dance. (V goes to Pop’s instead of Archie)

Can I call you tonight?-

Jughead and Veronica’s moments of glee when they finally set up a date with each other. Veronica squeals and jumps up and down, Jughead punches the air, they both fall down on the bed with blissful looks on their faces. Two cinnamon rolls.

“So, I’ll call you tonight?”

“Yes! *Too enthusiastic- calm down Veronica* Yes. Call me tonight.”

*Que music*

Just Like a Movie-

Jughead calls this their theme song one day when they’re just hanging out in the student lounge as a joke.

Scrawny-

Veronica calls this Jughead’s theme song in response, they have a good laugh and Jughead rolls his eyes at the lyrics A LOT.

Space Girl-

Jughead calls this Veronica’s theme song- because she’s “oUt oF tHiS worLD!”.

She smacks his arm for being so cheesy.

Good Morning-

The morning after they do the “horizontal tango” with each other for the first time, they dance in Veronica’s kitchen, knowing all the words- only to be interrupted by an amused Hermione Lodge.

Unforgettable-

Their first Christmas together, spent snowed in at The Pembrooke. But honestly, they don’t mind.

Shake it out-

Jughead and Veronica cry together after her parents blackmail them/force them to break up. #parentssuck.

Your star-

Coping with the breakup, newsflash- they aren’t, or when they are... they don’t go the healthiest route. So. Much. Angst.

Rare-

Veronica changes up her style a little bit, which really is just lower cut tops, just trying to forget about Jughead- does a lil sexy performance singing to this at a pep rally.

Out the door-

Jughead never leaving the depressional stage of grief.                                

+ Exchanging broken looks that just scream “I’m not over you.”

I can’t get you off my mind-

Drunkenly hooking up at a party because their tension recently had just been… w o w

Drugs-

Sneaking around- sexy times ;)

Why Do You Love Me-

Having a screaming match, then a very angry/hot makeup session, then very angry sex XD

The Wind-

After some hOrIzOnTaL TaNGo at Sweetwater River, they admit that they can’t keep away from each other, saying that they love each other for the first time- followed by Veronica crying tears of joy cuz she’s never done that before- and that they’re going to work everything out, together. They just hold each other after that.

“I love you, Princess.”

Veronica props herself on her elbow to face him (they were laying down before)

Jughead sees her widened eyes. “Y-you don’t have to say it back, I know its ha-“

“I love you too, Jug”

You and I-

Montage of working at Pop’s for summer, ending with a jam sesh in Jughead’s trailer- Veronica just in his shirt and Jughead just in his sweats. FP comes in, surprised to see Veronica, but welcomes her easily. FP and Veronica bond, and he embarrasses Jug with some baby photos. While Jug’s probably beet-red, he can’t help but completely oggle at Veronica- happy that they don’t have to hide from his dad anymore.

Start a Riot-

Jeronica send a little message to Hiram through security cameras (they just make out lmao), showing that he can’t keep them apart. They then proceed to trash Hiram’s jingle jangle lab. :)

Moon River-

Slow dancing after having been crowned homecoming King and Queen. And of course, because Veronica is 1/2 of this relationship- this becomes their song.

“That’s us.”

“What do you mean?” Veronica asks, confused.

“The two drifters in the song. ‘Two drifters, off to see the world.’ That’s us”

Veronica’s eyes start to gloss.

“I absolutely love that. And you.”

Teenagers-

Being the badass power couple they are, being 100% team Serpent against the Bulldogs during the riots. Its all one long shot too- no cuts :))

A Sunday Kind of Love-

Looking at each other in slow motion (wow- I really love putting stuff in slow motion) when Veronica is officially named Serpent queen, they’re absolutely smitten with each other. Cut to them dancing in the Wyrm to the song, discussing how they’re going to make their big debut as Riverdale’s resident power couple… second to Choni of course.

“So… now that I’m your queen, I was thinking had a debut of sorts. Just to educate the public of this new order.” Veronica jabs, only kind of joking.

Jughead laughs, but it sounds more of a huff.

“Could you settle for a hand-in-hand entrance at school? Or would you be more comfortable with a red carpet event?”

Glory-

Veronica and Jughead walking into school as Serpent Royalty with matching Serpent jackets- no special colours thank you very much. You can bet your ass its in slow motion.

Worlds Apart-

Veronica crying at Jughead’s bed-side after the Ghoulies fuck him up.

Boss Bitch-

Veronica gets revenge on the Ghoulies and Penny Peabody with the help of the female Serpents, the River vixens, Hermione, Betty, and Alice.

Le Symbolique-

Veronica and Jughead reunite from his state of unconsciousness, this whole sequence is in slow motion, with a lot of white lighting/glare. Jughead almost died and just that thought alone KILLED Veronica.

“Jug I was so scared-“

“Shush Ronnie, let me look at you.” His teary eyes trace over Veronica’s face with a beaming smile, before he brings his girlfriend closer and kisses the top of her forehead.

Harmony Hall- 

Some core four bliss before it gets chaotic again, with a side of Jeronica and Barchie cuddles.

Not Your Barbie Girl-

A River vixen performance, Jughead is so fricken in love with Ronnie right now cuz she’s just RADIATING empowerment.

Therefore I Am- 

Jeronica sends Hiram to jail again after a bomb ass one liner from Veronica:

“Mija, you have no idea what you’re doing.”

“Only one thing’s false in that sentence Hiram, I’m not your Mija anymore.”

(HELP ME I CAN’T WRITE)

*Proud Jughead smirk*

This Life-

Veronica meeting JB and Gladys, them getting along great- just a wholesome Lodge/Jones get-together.

Don’t Call Me Angel-

Veronica changes her name to Luna, fully emancipating herself from Hiram, and this gets Jughead really turned on XD

Sway With Me-

La Bonne Nuit’s first successful night, Josie, Veronica, Toni, and Cheryl perform. Veronica somehow convinces Jughead to dance with her in public. Think Moulin Rouge’s Diamond Dogs type editing.

My Oh My- 

Getting screwed over my Hiram, Veronica is in a TON of debt and needs some “stress relief” with Jughead. He obliges. Happily.

HIP-

Veronica and Cheryl start their rum business, Jughead helps and oml he’s so proud of her. Btw, Cheronica are HUGE badasses right now.

Bury a friend-

Surviving Eversgreen Forest and Penelope Blossom…

Youth-

The core four are free from the forest, successfully escaping Penelope Blossom. Jughead and Veronica share a tearful but happy kiss, laying down on the back of a truck.

Don’t Take The Money-

The core four hang out at pops and promise to have fun this senior year, Jughead steals Veronica’s cherry from her milkshake, but being so vulnerable to Midget’s (He calls her Midget. Yup.) puppy dog eyes, he makes it up to her by sharing his fries. 

“And for a brief, shining moment, we were kids again.” all that good shiz

The Four Seasons: “Winter”-

Jeronica hangs with the Stonewall psychos.

(Online Love)-

Veronica and Jughead FaceTime and Veronica has this vibe like she’s the montage of the hero’s dead girlfriend in a movie. Like her hair is all splayed out on her pillow and she’s all smiley-

“You look like an angel right now- with your hair like a halo and how much you’re smiling.”

Veronica laughs

“Well it’s your fault I’m smiling you idiot.” Her voice softens towards the end of the sentence.

“I love you too, Ron.”

El Tejano-

Party at Stonewall, Jeronica are absolutely WASTED. Fun fact- Jughead get’s really into PDA when he’s drunk

Burned Out- 

Oh shit… I guess Jughead is dead now. (dw, Betty’s still the one who “kills him”)

Claire de Lune-

Just kidding, he’s alive, and he and Veronica have a really cute moment in the bunker. Veronica starts reading his novel, per his request, and he just starts playing this on the record player and she smiles but her eyes are still on the book. He just kind of watches her, and when she starts beaming at the book he can’t help but kiss her right there. Then they just cuddle and little bit, Veronica on Jug’s lap, reading the book some more.

Girls Like GIrls-

Veronica has to prove Jughead is dead, so she and Betty kinda sorta… make out. Like, a lot. Betty is dating Archie at this point, and he’s the one who gets “mad”. But basically Betty and Veronica end up making out again cuz they spot Donna watching them. Veronica is a bi con, and Betty might be too but everyones in denial so *shrugs*.

Dream Lover-

(Time skip, because I’m lazy) Jughead’s alive again, sadly, his spot at NYU was taken by well, Veronica. Luckily, after pulling some strings, she surprises Jug with a full-ride acceptance letter from NYU starting second semester.

Magic Moments-

Yay! Prom! Barchie gets crowned king and queen (Beronica was kind of forgotten about, but thats fine, because we’re here for Jeronica first). While Betty and Archie are totally lost in each other, Jughead and Veronica are just kind of joking around on the side. While it’s Barchie’s moment, Jeronica is still looking pretty damn cute rn. Also, this becomes Barchie’s song!!

Oxford comma-

The song comes through the speaker at prom, Jughead invites Veronica to dance. As they sway, they gaze at one another like they’re seeing one another for the first time, to the song that started it all. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

And thats it! Thats Jeronica’s story from season one to season four, I hope you have a very merry Christmas and I hope you liked your presents! Also, if anyone feels like adding on to the dialogue or using any of the points in a fic or even making a whole ass fanfiction- please do!! I didn’t do this justice with my mediocre quotes so it would actually be preferred XD.

And again, happy Christmas :))

[neocityarchive]

ends | mark lee au (pt 1)

summary | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: none

Chapter Summary: You didn’t have to be reminded that you lost the best thing to ever happen to you, but when a great opportunity came your way, you thought maybe a little risk won’t hurt. 

A/N: i woke up and suddenly this wasnt on my blog lmao im so frustrated. i mightve accidentally deleted it but here it is again.

You looked at your phone to check the time. You have 15 minutes to get to the SM building. Why you’re going back there, you have absolutely no idea.

One of your sunbaes called and asked you to come in, saying they needed the interns’ input on the graphics of the new advertisement material for the recent SM Rookies project. You could have easily said no, but you also are very much aware that SM doesn’t usually do this. It would be crazy to pass an opportunity this big. But that’s not what you’re really worried about.

You stared at your screen until it went black, then pressed on the lock button, illuminating it again. Only a minute has passed since you last checked. You still weren’t used to your generic lockscreen. It’s been a month since you changed it, but it still feels weird not seeing Mark’s cheeky grin everytime your phone lights up.

Stop it, you told yourself.

You don’t know if it’s just in your head or if it’s the fact that you’re anxious and overthinking about the possibility of seeing him again, but the bus seems to be going faster today when you didn’t need it to.

You have no idea if the boys are going to be in the building. You stopped keeping track of the whole group since the break up. You couldn’t bring yourself to watch any of their videos since your ex seems to be in every single one of them.

In an attempt to get distracted, you put your earphones on and your playlist on shuffle, shifting your attention to the busy city life happening outside the bus’ window.

As if the universe didn’t want you happy, the songs coming up the playlist just made everything worse. Yang Da Il’s Sorry started playing and suddenly, you were thrown back to a memory you’ve been trying so hard to suppress lately.

You just got back from a trip to China, two days earlier than what you told everyone. These days, Mark has been really stressed trying to balance his time and energy between the three units. You could tell he was tired despite his efforts not to show it to anyone. You haven’t had a decent conversation in a while. He was always drained, so every phone call would just end up in an argument. If not, he’d be sleeping, or he would say bye even before you could tell him about your day.

It was hectic, so you thought you could pay him a surprise visit to lift some of the stress off his shoulders. After all, it used to work. Used to.

You were already on your way to the conference room where the dreamies were having a meeting but you stopped in your tracks a few feet away from the door.

It was quiet. There wasn’t the usual rowdy noise you could hear even from the elevator, which is very weird considering it’s the dreamies. That’s how you knew they were talking about something serious. A chill went down your spine, finding the whole thing unsettling.

“You should tell her the truth,” you heard Donghyuck’s voice from the hallway.

“I know, though,” Mark replied abruptly.

Your face contorted. You missed the sound of his voice, so much that your chest ached. But that wasn’t what you wanted to hear more about. Tell the truth to who? What truth? Who’s her?

“Just don’t make her wait,” Hyuck said. “She’ll only get hurt.”

Mark sighed. He sounded exhausted, like they’ve been on this topic for quite a while and the flow of the conversation wasn’t going his way.

No one spoke. It was very unusual since they usually just talk over each other, but this time, even a singe drop of water would sound deafening. You found yourself holding your breath.

It didn’t seem like they were talking about work. If it was, they would definitely be louder. You searched your mind of anything or anyone they could be talking about but there wasn’t enough information to make a conclusion. Still, there was something stirring in your chest. You don’t know how to explain it, but it didn’t feel good.

“Mark hyung,” Renjun called, breaking the silence.

“Oh?”

He cleared his throat. “I’m just going to ask the question that is on everyone’s minds right now.”

Silence. It was deafening.

“Do you still love Y/N?”

You blinked. Twice. Thrice. You suddenly felt like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs. Your knees felt week, and your mind was going nuts. This wasn’t what you expected to hear when you came. Not at all.

You started going through the possibilities. Do they know another Y/N? Did you hear Renjun right? Is this some sort of prank??? Do they know you’re listening?

But the silence in the room proves it’s no prank.

You wanted to run, you wanted to scream. You wanted to burst into the room all at once. But your feet stayed glued to the ground. You found yourself waiting for the answer to a question you never thought you’d have to ask.

Do you? you thought.

Your mind wandered to your recent phone calls, your frequent arguments. It happened so often that there has been a part of you that hesitates to call him, afraid you’d fight again. He rarely ever sends goodnight and good morning texts, or even updates about his day anymore. Things have definitely changed between the two of you, but you always thought it was just because he was exhausted from work.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Today was supposed to be a good day. Today was supposed to be the day that would get you your boyfriend back. The day everything would be back to normal. But apparently... not.

“Do you?” Hyuck asked again.

“I don’t know. I’m just...” Mark’s voice trailed off.

You waited.

“...so tired of it.”

You pulled your earphones from your ear and stuffed your phone in your purse in frustration.

Your eyes have started to well up again. You looked up, trying to blink the tears away but it won’t work. No matter how you try to fool yourself and convince yourself you’ve gotten better, all these small moments that lead you back to him proves otherwise.

Part of you always knew things would be like this eventually, that Mark would get tired. He had way too many things on his plate, and you always felt like you should be the least of his problems.

He was always born to be a star. With his talent and passion for what he does, he was bound to take over the world. You knew that meant a lot of sacrifices for him. Living away from his home country, giving up the chance of a normal teenage life, always being within the eyes of the media and fans. You always knew the time would come when the compromise he had to make was our time for each other.

You just never thought it would come to the point where he would give up everything you had after all you’ve been through. Somehow, through all those months of dating him, you had yourself convinced that he loved you enough to not leave you like this. Turns out you were wrong.

“I never imagined I would say this...” you remember him saying, “but I think we should break up.”

It really felt like your world fell apart that day.

You used to be so cynical about how breakups are portrayed in the movies. It’s always so dramatic. The characters always seem like everything have stopped working after the breakup. You used to think it was overboard. But after going through it yourself, you realized maybe the movies were right.

Nothing felt right after that day. Everything seemed so much dimmer, much quieter, much slower. It was like the world forgot how to function properly...

The bus pulled at your stop, breaking your train of thoughts. You got off and walked to the building, taking two steps at a time, afraid of seeing anyone even remotely familiar. Thankfully, you arrived at the 11th floor without any casualty.

The whole thing went by quickly. Your mind was completely preoccupied while working. No traces of Mark, not even on the huge television screens on the walls.

Contrary to what you originally thought, working in SM was actually a fun experience. Aside from the fact you met the love of your life there, the people working with you were really nice. Today, they offered you a job, convincing you to stay. It sounded tempting, good pay, good benefits, but you didn’t know if you could work in a place that holds too much of the past you’re trying to let go of. Maybe not now. You told them you’d think about it.

Before you knew it, the work part was over. You were already back in the elevator, feeling a bit better than you were when you arrived.

The elevator stopped at the 9th floor, revealing a group of people who looked like executives. Upon seeing them, your sunbae grabbed you and the other intern by the arm and pulled you out of the elevator.

“You may go first, Mr. Lee. We’re not in any hurry.” He smiled to them, who nodded politely as they entered the elevator.

“Thank you,” the man who you assumed was Mr. Lee said.

Once the doors closed, your sunbae let out a sigh of relief.

“Are you okay?” you asked. “Who was that?”

“I’m fine.” He nodded. “That was a major stockholder of the company and a bunch of other important people.”

You nodded to yourself, suddenly realizing why the faces looked familiar. You must have seen them in the TV or something.

“Alright you guys. I’m gonna take the stairs. I’m just going down one level anyway. You can wait for the next one here,” your sunbae said.

Just then, the other elevator door opened but it was going up. The other intern went in, saying she forget something upstairs. Just like that, you were alone in the 9th floor.

A sudden realization dawned on you. You didn’t recognize the floor right away since the interior changed a bit, but this was where the recording booths are. This was also where you last saw Mark. As if in a trance, you decided to around to see what else changed within the few months you haven’t been here.

A chill went up your spine as you walked past the lounge beside the recording booth, your mind going back to how easily you got your heart broken the last time you were there.

It was two days after you heard the dreamies’ conversation. You couldn’t bring yourself to see him after that. You called him earlier and asked to meet up, lying that you’ve only just gotten home from China.

He agreed to meet you at the lounge beside the recording booths, saying he can’t leave the studio because the dreamies need him for advice while recording.

So you went there, feeling uneasy. There was no one else around, which was a good thing because you were sure whatever happens, you would cry.

You and Mark haven’t seen each other for weeks, but when he came, there were no kisses. Not even hugs. There was none of the usual excitement and undeniable craving that you both get whenever you see each other after not being able to for a long time. This time, he just sat quietly beside you. You weren’t even surprised.

He looked different. He had makeup on, but you could still tell the circles under his eyes got bigger. He obviously wasn’t doing well. But then again, neither were you. You spent the last two nights sleepless and crying, anxious, wondering what the hell you should do.

Without a word, Mark held out his hand, palm up. It’s something he does when he wants you to hold his hand.

You hesitated, wondering what happens after this, but it didn’t take you much thought. You intertwined your fingers with his anyway. It felt so natural and familiar, and weirdly out of place in the situation. It hurt.

He squeezed your hand gently.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. If it was any louder than that, you knew it would break.

He nodded weakly.

“You look tired,” you managed to say.

He looked at you for the first time that day, and it took all of your willpower to keep yourself from breaking down.

“Cause I am,” he replied.

“Can I help?”

He shook his head, looking down. He detached his fingers from yours to fix his cap, running his fingers through his hair. You were half expecting for him to hold your hand again, but you weren’t surprised when he didn’t.

“Y/N,” he said.

“Mark,” you replied.

He bit his lip, an anxious habit. “Aren’t you tired?”

“Not really? I had a nap before coming here so–”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You just stared at him.

“Aren’t you tired,” he said again, slower and softer this time, “of this...? Of... us?”

You looked away. You knew this was coming. You just didn’t think it would be this soon. You took a deep breath and tried your hardest not to cry.

“I am,” you said, your voice close to breaking. “But...”

You weren’t sure what to say. It’s true. You are tired. You’re tired of not being able to see him, of not getting a proper conversation out of the small time you have together, of things not being like they were before. You’re so damn tired of it all. But telling him that is like telling him to stop doing his job, to stop doing what he loves. That’s the last thing he needs.

“But?”

You sighed. “I don’t care.”

He shook his head again. “God, this is so hard,” you heard him mutter under his breath before turning to you. “How can you not care that you’re tired? Doesn’t this frustrate you?”

“I can’t just...” your voice broke. You let a deep breath and swallowed, trying to calm yourself. “What do you want me to say? I’m tired, Mark, and yes, it does frustrate me. A lot. But so what if I am? It doesn’t mean I want to give up on us.”

He buried his head in his hands.

You don’t know what you’re still holding on to. It’s like everything that used to be there is disappearing right before your eyes. You’re stalling, but you already know how this ends.

“Y/N,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “Let’s face it. I’m already losing time for you, and it will only get worse. We never see each other anymore. I can’t even go out of this damn building to spend an hour with you. All we do is argue on the phone, and even when we see each other, we don’t talk properly. How can you still want to stay even after all this?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Does love really need to have a reason? you thought.

“Look, we barely understand each other anymore. I can’t... I can’t do this.”

Your heart broke. There was no other way to explain it. That’s exactly how it felt. Like something inside your chest just died. It’s like he had stabbed you with a knife, and just when you thought the pain was at its maximum, he still had to twist the blade in your chest.

“I never imagined I would say this,” he said, “but I think we should break up.”

You just sat there, almost motionless if your lips weren’t quivering. If this was a few months ago, he would already have his arms wrapped around you, muttering that it’s going to be fine, that he has your back no matter what. Now, he’s just... there.

You forced yourself to speak. “Just like that?”

He didn’t reply.

You let out an empty laugh, a tear rolling down your cheek simultaneously. “You couldn’t even wait a day and just spend a little more time with me. That’s how much you want this done.”

“No, I—” he tried to speak, but you were already riding the high of your emotions, you just had to let it out.

“I got back from China two days ago,” you said. “I was supposed to surprise you, maybe ask you out for lunch. But when I got here, I overheard your conversation with the guys. I heard you say you were tired of us, but it wasn’t just that. The way you said it...” you let out a shaky breath, your tears now uncontrollable. “God, it hurt to hear. I knew what you were thinking even then, and there was no changing your mind. So I couldn’t bring myself to see you after that because I was so afraid of what you’d say. I had a feeling if we saw each other that day, it would just make things worse. So I spent the last two days thinking what to do, you know how stupid I am.”

“Y/N,” he said softly, but you weren’t done.

“I still hoped I could maybe change your mind. I hoped my gut was wrong, that there was still a chance this could work. But I guess my luck had already ran out. I knew from the moment you walked in and just sat there, not even giving me so much as a hug, that you won’t even try to make things work anymore. So I guess... this is really it.”

“I didn’t... you weren’t supposed to.. I...” He searched for words, but you couldn’t bear to stay and wait for him to change his mind when he clearly won’t.

So you stood up and took something out of your purse. It was an elephant keyring that you got from China, something you bought especially for him. You two have a thing of giving each other tiny souvenirs from the places you went without each other.

Mark stood up too. His eyes were welled with tears, making the situation harder than it already is.

“It’s a lucky charm, supposedly,” you said, handing him the keyring.

He wrapped his fingers around it. A single drop of tear streamed on his cheek. And then another.

“Stop crying. God, at least make it easier for me to leave. This is unfair,” you joked, wiping his tears.

Mark managed to let out a laugh. For some reason, it just broke your hear even more.

You forced a smile. This is the guy you’ve been in love with, longer and harder than you’ve ever been with anyone. You hate the you probably won’t hear his explosive laugh again or watch him get overexcited over the simplest things or hear him randomly sing Frank Ocean under his breath. You hate that you have to let it all go so soon when you never thought you’d ever have to.

“I love you, Mark Lee,” you said, taking a step back. You know he secretly loves it when you say his full name. “And I sincerely hope you’ll find peace again and be happy after this.”

Before you could break down again, you began walking away.

But you haven’t even taken three steps when you were pulled by the arm. You spun around slightly, ending up wrapped in his arms again, his hug tighter than any you’ve felt. He buried his head on your shoulders while you wrapped your arms around his waist like you’ve done so many times before.

He didn’t say a single word when you pulled away. Neither did you. There was nothing left to say.

You turned around and just like that, you were gone.

The ding of the elevator opening pulled you back to the present. But you were too far from the doors already. You wouldn’t make it in time.

Your cheeks were wet. You didn’t realize you’ve been crying.

You figured it’s pointless to tell yourself you’ve moved on when you know full well it would take so much more than just two months to get over something as special as your relationship with Mark. Still, you couldn’t help but beat yourself up over the fact that you’re staring at an empty lounge in an empty hallway, crying like a baby.

You quickly dabbed your eyes and cheeks to dry the tears before looking around to see if there was anyone who witnessed your slightly embarrassing moment, but the are was still empty.

You went back to the elevator before you could see another thing that would trigger your thoughts once more.

You thought you were already safe. Excluding the flashbacks, the day has gone smoothly so far. But with the luck you are born with, when something is bound to go wrong, it definitely will. It’s almost funny that it didn’t even take five minutes before something did.

“Y/N?!” a familiar voice called from behind you.

You turned around, facing a tanned, brunette boy whose eye glinted with surprise, and with an aura radiating mischief and cleverness.

“Hyuck?”