#whistles innocently as i post this for u

[lncarnon]

10. [thigh touch] - Your muse slides their hand slowly up my muse’s thigh, gazing at them the entire time to gauge their response. (your choice / muse roulette etc hehe)

He'd never indulged her, or her ladies. An amusing thought considering their line of work and his own place of power, one might assume his every visit was begot by the throes of pleasure, lust, and money. Yet, every single person who thought this would be wrong. Shay never went to see Melissa for the simple want of the body. No, his time spent within her place of business was strictly that, a partnership between the two of them, information for protection.

He kept the thugs at bay, and she told him whatever he wanted to know.

Their conversation had started much the same as it usually did. Idle talk of any changes to their lives, his fearsome adventures upon the seas, her irritation with patrons misbehaving. She moves closer, he thinks nothing of it. For a man who placed his faith in no one but the Order he certainly had become quite comfortable around Melissa. Enough so, that when she reaches out and places a hand upon him, he does not shy away from the physical contact.

Rather the action snares his attention and keeps it in a vice, whatever he'd been saying trailing off into silence as his eyes follow her motions. It'd been something that they had spoken of in his prior visitations, that he needs no payment, no favors, no bodily attention. Still, she seemed keen on testing the boundaries.

Flicking his attention upwards to meet her intense gaze as fingers creep ever higher, a smile tugs along the corner of Shay's mouth.

"Your pick of men and ya' still try t' choose me."

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Oliver keeps on staring at reader and Felix notices it and gets possessed so he put on a later show for him. Like making out but don’t having full on sex. Then the next morning readers walking to breakfast with a lot of hickeys all over her and she can’t cover it up.

Mine, all Mine || Felix Catton x reader

A/n: thank u for the request ml 🫶 sorry it took me awhile to post this 🥲

Warnings: fem!reader, possesive!Felix, swearing, smoking, Oliver being sorta creepy

Wc: 864

Felix Catton Masterlist

GIF by @127png

As Felix listened to your conversation with a few others in the circle of friends around you, his eyes caught Oliver Quick staring shamelessly at you from his window. Taking a long drag, he wrapped an arm around you, his fingers delicately tracing the necklace that bore his initials, all while looking at Oliver.

It took Oliver a few seconds to realise that Felix was staring straight at him, and when he did, he scrambled from the window which earned a soft chuckle from Felix.

For the next couple of days, Felix would often catch Oliver staring at you. It irritated him to say the least, especially since he would stare longer when you were on his lap, or when you were holding hands and walking around campus. Clearly, Oliver didn’t know better.

You were sat on Felix’s lap at a Halloween party, you were dressed up as a slutty maid while Felix was dressed as a cop. “What are you looking at?” You say in his ear, noticing that his attention was elsewhere. His hand on your hip gives you a reassuring squeeze before he smiles at you.

"Nothing," he brushes it off, planting a kiss on your collarbone, but a lingering doubt tugs at you. Your eyes roam the crowded room before locking onto Oliver.

He averts his gaze, sipping his drink briefly, while you narrow your eyes at him. “Do you know Oliver?” you redirect your attention to Felix, and his eyes snap up to meet yours.

“Hm?” He’s caught off guard by your sudden question. ��Oliver? He was checking us out,” you casually shrug, not giving it much thought, just noting the observation.

“That weirdo? No. Just seen him around campus,” Felix clears his throat, putting the lollipop he was sucking on back in his mouth, catching your eye. “Stay away from him though, yeah?” His possessive tone lingers as he points his lollipop at you prompting a subtle smirk from you.

“Felix, darling, you know me,” you say in a sultry tone, taking the lollipop from his fingers and sensually popping it into your mouth. Your gaze holds his as you swirl it around your tongue, before innocently looking away, leaving an enticing allure in the air.

Felix subtly adjusts beneath you, and a self-satisfied smile crosses your lips as you sense the impact of your actions. You can feel the growing bulge beneath your skirt, and without a single word, Felix effortlessly repositions you on his lap, now straddling him.

“Have I told you how insanely hot you look in that costume?” His eyes roam down your front, pausing where your outfit leaves little to the imagination. You giggle, playfully tilting your head as if you were thinking.

“I don’t think so,” Felix tilts his head back, emitting a low whistle, his gaze intense on you. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Kiss me.” Your hands find their place on his shoulders.

Felix lets out a deep chuckle, “Yes ma’am,” You both smile before he grips the back of you hair and pulls you close to him. His lips feverishly kissing your lips as you let out a low groan at the feeling of his bulge underneath you.

You leave his lips, trailing kisses down his neck. Felix’s eyes were wide open as he stared right back at Ollie from across the room. He reviled being watched. Unfazed, Oliver didn’t bother looking away, shamelessly watching you as you leave marks on Felix’s neck.

Felix smirks at Ollie, kneading the flesh of your ass, drawing a moan from you. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispers in your ear. Eagerly nodding, you rise, and as Felix playfully slaps your ass, you stumble slightly, but his large hand steadies your waist.

Unbeknownst to you, Felix shoots Ollie a look before winking at him and leading you away. Surely now, Oliver would get the memo and back off.

~

Walking into the hall, you push your sunglasses higher up the bridge of your nose. With a slightly annoyed demeanour, you cross your arms, acutely aware of the hushed whispers and stares from fellow students.

Felix left about half a dozen hickeys along your collarbone and neck. You didn’t even try to conceal them either with makeup since they were deep hues of purple.

“Move,” You hear Farleigh say to a random beside him as he quickly scrambles and he takes his spot, giving you space to sit in between him and Felix.

Your hand meets Felix’s chest with a resounding slap as you settle into your seat with a huff, “Did you really have to make them this dark?” Felix stops chewing his toast, “Yes, yes I did,�� a proud grin adorning his face while you shoot him a disapproving scowl.

“Why the sunglasses, y/n?” Farleigh nudges you, prompting you to take them off briefly. Your red eyes meet his gaze, causing him to cringe. “Put them back on, please,” he murmurs, and you respond with a casual flip-off, continuing with your breakfast.

Locking eyes with Oliver at the table across from yours, you catch him mid-sip. “He really has a staring problem,” you remark aloud. Farleigh and Felix turn towards you simultaneously, asking in sync, “Who?” Farleigh cranes his neck, attempting to look at where you were looking.

“Oliver,” You murmured. “Fucks sake, does he not get the hint,” Felix curses—clearly exasperated—leaving you confused. “What hint-“ Before you could finish your sentence, Felix takes ahold of your chin with a firm yet gentle touch, pulling you into a kiss.

“Jesus, right now?” Farleigh gags beside you, his reaction mirroring your own surprise at the suddenness of Felix’s kiss.

Your manicured nails rest on his jaw as Felix lifts his hand up to flip off Oliver who was staring through the gap of people. He pulls back as you catch your breath, “Swap with me,” He says as he moves back on his seat.

You give him an odd look, “So he doesn’t keep staring at what’s mine,” Felix’s voice was laced with possessiveness as you stand up and move across his lap to where he previously sat, his hands on your hips guiding you.

[theragethatisdesire]

pretty girl - jean kirschtein x afab!reader - 18+!!!

there's def more eren coming but while that's in the works please enjoy the result of the jean brainrot i experienced the other day. fair warning- it's going to get pretty rough, but that's what you asked him for ;)

pairing: reader x jean kirschtein

wc: 4.6k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, established relationship (jean's ur gorgeous bf lucky u), unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, pretty rough sex, vaginal fingering, biting, dirty talk, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, daddy kink, use of names (pretty girl, crybaby, good girl), very dom jean, multiple orgasm, dacryphilia/crying, creampie

this one was super fun and is very tasty u guys enjoy <3

-

-> be there in 5 babe :)

You are not looking forward to this, to say the least. You pace madly around your little apartment in a massive t-shirt and sweatpants covering the skimpiest lingerie set you own. It’s got all the bells and whistles: a matching garter belt, lace in all the right places, stockings that come up to where your plush thighs are the fattest. You should be looking forward to this, you tell yourself, candles lit and ambient lighting ready to go. You have a gorgeous boyfriend who’s going to “be here in five”, and you should be brimming with excitement. But…you’re just not.

Jean’s been in your life for a few months now. What had started as a run-in at the coffee shop around the corner had turned into candlelit dinners, movie marathons, and exclusive titles, and you adore him. His sandy brown hair, the tattoo on his strong bicep, pretty hazel eyes– Jean’s sexy, loving, sarcastic, attentive, literally everything you could ask for in a boyfriend. Except when it comes to your sex life, that is.

The sex isn’t bad per se, you just can’t shake the feeling that he’s holding something back from you. He’s almost too perfect; he’s gentle with you, always taking care to ask permission before touching you, chaste kisses as he slides in, hand-holding in missionary. He cums every time, immune to the whiskey-dick you’d expect from his bourbon drinking habit, so you know he’s enjoying himself, but he doesn’t always seem all there. The fire just isn’t in him, and you know he has that side to him. You’ve seen those hazel eyes you love so much blaze, in a heated argument, at the gym. Why it doesn’t happen in your intimate moments is beyond you, it’s like he’s afraid to break you, like he’s not doing everything–

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Shit, knocking on your front door is what he’s doing.

You take one last look in the mirror: hair’s casual, but still sexy, makeup to a minimum, all straps and lace covered up by your inconspicuous pajamas. Time to potentially ruin your relationship.

“Hey beautiful,” Jean greets you with an innocent smile, “you look cozy.”

“Feel cozy,” you accept his kiss, chewing on your lip as he comes in. Your heart’s pounding in your ears; poor thing has no idea what’s to come. Maybe it’ll go well, you think; false hope might be the only thing that gets you to pull through with your plan.

“Have any movie ideas for tonight? I was thinking Hereditary, but only if you’re not too chicken…” Jean raises his eyebrows, a taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. Ha! If only he knew all of the things you aren’t “too chicken” for.

You smile weakly, stomach churning. “Maybe. Can we just…can we just talk for a sec?”

Jean’s playful demeanor drops instantly, replaced by a faint frown. “What about?”

You amble over to the couch, playing with the strings of your sweatpants anxiously. How the fuck are you even supposed to bring this up? Your mind’s racing so quickly it draws a blank, and before you can stop yourself, you blurt: “Sex.”

“Sex?” Jean’s cheeks tinge pink. He hasn’t shaved in probably a week, a shadow covering his sharp jawline. God, he’s gorgeous, you can’t mess this up, you really can’t.

“Yeah,” you confirm, “sex. Our sex, to be clear.”

“I figured as much,” Jean’s sat himself beside you now, one eyebrow raised suspiciously. He’s not upset, not yet, but you’ve definitely caught him off guard.

“I– I feel like we’re on different pages,” you stammer– fuck you are so bad at this, “I just feel like sometimes you’re so…gentle, and you don’t necessarily, like, have to be?”

Jean’s frowning full on now, a precious little wrinkle appearing in the center of his forehead. You’ve hurt him, and your heart sinks. Probably should have started with the pros. “Like…what do you mean, by ‘don’t have to be gentle’?”

“Our sex life is great,” you try to smile enthusiastically, as if you don’t actually want to blow your brains out right now, “please don’t think I’m saying you’re bad in bed or anything. I just, like– okay, for example, have you ever tried anything rough?”

His mouth is a flat line. “Like what?”

“Like, handcuffs, or roleplay, any of that stuff.”

“What have you tried?” His voice is even, collected, but there’s something simmering in him that you can’t put your finger on. It’s not anger, but it tastes similar, running in the same vein but not quite there. It’s your turn to feel your face warm.

“I mean, I’ve tried handcuffs before. Some light slapping, spanking.” You’re twiddling your thumbs, confessing into your lap. You can feel his eyes on you.

“That it?”

“I guess.”

“Did you…enjoy that kind of stuff?” He’s taking the bait. You finally meet his gaze and it ignites a little fire in your stomach; he’s never looked at you this intensely, brows pinched together like you’re a puzzle he’s trying to figure out. All of these little mannerisms are tells, you’re intuitive enough to know that, but exactly what he’s trying to convey you just can’t figure out.

“Yeah.”

“How rough are we talking, here?” Jean sounds deeper than normal, the slightest bit of strain to his words. That’s definitely new; Jean’s the most unshakeable person you’ve ever met.

“If I’m making you uncomfortable, I–”

“You’re not making me uncomfortable,” an easy chuckle floats out of his mouth, “just trying to feel you out is all.”

Your brows furrow. “Feel me out?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I’m surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised?” Your nose wrinkles. “Did I ever give off the impression that I was, like, super vanilla or something?”

“No,” he laughs again, a bit of the tension melting from the room, “no, not that. We’re just still pretty new, that’s all. Wasn’t going to whip out everything in my toolbox ‘til I knew you were okay with it.”

That piques your interest; you think you’d very much like to see what’s in this toolbox of his. “So you do like some of this stuff?”

Jean rolls that thought over in his mind for a beat before responding, a suspicious smirk that you can’t read tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, I guess you could say I like some of this stuff.”

“We’re back to my original question then: what do you like?”

“I’m more worried about what you like,” Jean says, “especially since you won’t come right out and say it. Gonna make me guess?”

That’s your Jean, blunt as ever. The fire in your stomach sparks and spits at the conversation, teasing and tempting. There’s something playful to his words; you can’t shake this feeling that you’re missing something, that he’s toying with you, but you like it. You let him keep pushing, see where he’s leading you. “Sure, guess.”

“Do you like…” Jean trails off, examining you with his chin nestled between his thumb and index finger, “to be dominant?”

“No.”

“Submissive, then.”

“Yeah.” He likes that, you can tell by the way his eyes glint at you. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“Like to be tied up?”

“Already told you about the handcuffs.”

“I bet you have a praise kink.”

That has you flustered. There’s a sinking sensation in your stomach that you’ve underestimated him, waded out too deep into the water, but fuck it, you’re already here. “How’d you know?”

Jean smiles, pleased. “I just do. Overstimulation?”

“Sure.”

“Orgasm denial? Degradation?”

“If I deserve it.” It’s a bold answer, but it makes Jean suck in a sharp “fuck” between his teeth. Oh yes, you’ve definitely underestimated him.

“You like to be punished, don’t you?” His hand has traveled up to cup your jaw, thumb playing absentmindedly with your bottom lip. There’s an anticipatory warmth gathering between your legs, and the air between you both is practically crackling, charged by the tension thrumming through both of your bodies.

“Yes,” it comes out in a breath, almost pathetic, but you can’t help yourself. He looks so good, always does, and now he’s grazing his eyes over you like he wants to take a bite.

“You know how safewords work?” You nod a bit too eagerly. “Ours is going to be red, okay?”

“Okay,” you’re agreeing, but you aren’t entirely sure what to, caught up in the soft rubbing of his thumb over your mouth.

“If your mouth is,” a deep breath shakes through his frame, “occupied, give me a sharp pinch with your nails.”

“I can do that,” the tension between you is palpable now, the room’s so hot that you’re surprised your wallpaper isn’t peeling off.

“Go to your room,” Jean releases you, eyes dark and hungry, “take your clothes off and wait for me on the bed. I’ll be in soon.”

You follow his instructions without thinking twice, as if a switch has flipped in your brain. Maybe it was his tone, an authoritative way of speaking that threatens consequence, or maybe you’re just so ready to see what this perfect boyfriend of yours has been hiding all this time. As you’re getting undressed, you realize he still doesn't know about your lingerie. You bite back a smile, kneeling on the bed. This is going to be so good.

A minute or so ticks by slowly, and just when your legs are starting to ache, Jean’s entering your room. His face darkens in a way you’ve never seen before when he sees your little get up; lightning shoots through your core.

“Put on a pretty outfit just for me?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“That’s good,” he says in that slow drawl of his, “good girl.”

He’s only testing the waters, but you can feel your body viscerally react to the little pet name, shifting on your knees to mask your desperate attempt for friction, dampness spreading in your panties. Jean sees right through your act, smirking.

Jean joins you in undressing, slipping his shirt over his head. You take your time admiring his torso; miles of long, lean muscle, little ripples by his ribs trailing into a ridiculous six-pack. Jean’s a confessed gym rat, and it shows in every little line along his body. You have to blink and look away before you start salivating.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Jean scolds, tilting your head up towards him, “eyes on me, got it?”

“Got it,” you answer. Jean frowns.

“That’s not very nice,” he says, “try again.”

You go out on a limb. “Yes, sir.”

Jean’s eyes glint again in that mean, pretty way you saw earlier. You did good, you did good for him. “Much better. Get on the floor.”

You slide off of your mattress, practically buzzing with anticipation, settling on your knees in front of him. A low groan rumbles in Jean’s chest.

“Look so good like that, my pretty girl.”

Oh, you really like that, nuzzling against his hand on your head. Jean smiles down at you, inching his pants down until that little thatch of brown hair starts revealing itself. “Open up for me, nice and wide.”

Your jaw’s dropped, mouth open and tongue out, expectant. Jean smiles wider, sharp and dangerous, pulling his cock out for you. He taps the head against your tongue a few times, even slaps you with it, facade faltering for a fraction of a second to gauge your reaction. You’re good for him, sitting still and patient with your mouth still open, a drop of drool starting to slide off the end of your tongue. Jean makes a sound that’s somewhere between a groan and a chuckle.

“Oh, you’re an obedient little thing, aren’t you?” Your panties grow impossibly wetter, you wiggle on your thighs under him, earning yourself another slap of his cock on your tongue, heavy and drooling. “Gonna fuck this pretty face, okay?”

You close your mouth around his head, sucking lightly to show your approval. He’s not even touched you, not so much as a kiss, and your brain’s foggy, running like a hamster on a wheel chasing the circular thought of be good, be good, be good. Jean grabs your hair none-too-gently, tugging it at the roots, and starts canting his hips towards your mouth, muttering under his breath about how good you are, how good your mouth feels on him.

You lower your jaw ever so slightly, and before long, Jean’s picking up speed, knocking your gag reflex here and there and making you cough around him. He doesn’t seem overly concerned; in fact, he grins cruelly down at you when he hits an extra-sensitive spot, making you hunch and gag on him.

“Look at my pretty girl, so happy getting her mouth fucked,” he hisses when you moan around him, feeling the vibrations up his cock. He’s moving faster now, rougher than he’s ever been. You’re gagging with some regularity, tears welling up in your eyes and threatening to spill down your cheeks. You expect him to let up, give you some air, but it only spurs him on, and before you know it, there are thick streams of tears running down your face. Your jaw aches, your knees burn, but you stay, letting him use you how he pleases.

“Fucking crying on me,” Jean growls, “my cock too much for you?”

You try to answer with a shake of your head, but he’s relentless, fingers tightening in your hair and cock shoving to the back of your throat, making you retch.

“No, you love it, don’t you? My little crybaby.”

You’re so wet you can feel it gathering on the insides of your thighs, entirely soaked through your panties. You move your hips subtly, this way and that, desperate for friction. Jean notices, pulling out of your mouth but staying connected by a string of your spit.

“You squirming, pretty girl? Need some attention?”

“Yes, sir,” you rasp, nodding eagerly. Jean helps you up onto the bed, lays you back against his chest facing the mirror on top of your wardrobe. It’s a terribly lewd sight; you spread out in front of him, face swollen and teary, the telltale glisten of wetness glittering on your thighs.

Jean slides a hand down your body, rubbing you over your panties and nibbling at your ear. “You’re gonna watch me make you cum, and if I see you look away, I’m fucking you ‘til I cum, and you’re not getting a damn thing. Got it?”

“Yes, sir,” your voice wobbles pathetically. Jean seems to like it; his cock twitches in interest against your back. He pushes your panties to the side, flicking his fingers faster over your clit. Embarrassingly enough, you’re already nearing your halfway point from the face-fucking, moaning and grinding up into his palm.

“Need something?”

“Mhm,” you grit out, jaw clenched. Jean slaps your pussy; not too hard, but firm enough to make you jolt, bring you a moment of clarity.

“Manners,” he reminds you sharply.

“I’m sorry, I– can I please have a finger?”

Jean’s placated, slides one finger into you and laughs hot against your neck at the obscene sound that tears from your throat. “What do we say when we get what we ask for?”

“Thank you– fuck, thank you,” your words are coming out in puffs of breathe. Jean has long, skilled fingers, a fact you’re already familiar with, but the position he’s put you in has you dripping onto the sheets: forcing you to watch as he pumps in and out of you, grinding into your clit with the heel of his hand. You’ll be lucky if you last another minute.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? My pretty girl likes being full, right?” Jean murmurs, hot against the shell of your ear. “Tell me.”

“Yes, sir, I– I like it, I need– fuck!”

“What do you need?” Jean coos, entertained, as if he’s not unraveling you with just the one.

“I want one m-more finger, please,” you stutter, relieved you’re able to get the words out at all.

“Learning so fast,” Jean kisses your shoulder, granting your wish. His fingers are thick, the slight stretch making you throw your head back against his shoulder, hips rolling into his hand of their own accord. “Still looking?”

You force your head back to its upright position, mindful of the threat in his tone. His fingers work faster at your obedience, curling insistently against the gummy spot inside your walls that makes you see stars, makes you a little out of your mind with need. It’s that out-of-mind dizziness in your head that causes your little slip-up:

“Fuck, please, more- more, Daddy.”

Jean’s fingers still; it’s not until you’re halfway into a whine of disappointment that you realize what you’ve said. Your face burns; you meet his eyes in the mirror, yours shot wide and embarrassed. You trip over your words, trying to explain yourself. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in your earlier conversation.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, I just–”

“Just what? Already so fucked out you can’t think straight?” Jean curls his fingers pointedly against your walls, punching a groan from your chest.

“Yeah,” you sigh, head growing cloudy again.

“Say it again.” That definitely isn’t what you expect to hear him mutter against your neck. Jean works a third finger into your cunt with some difficulty, stretching you to your limits. “Fucking say it, or you’re not cumming.”

“Oh my God, D-Daddy,” your cries are pathetic, punctuated by whimpers. The bubble in your stomach is about to pop, the tension growing unbearable. You’re almost there, grinding into his hand pitifully and babbling, when Jean takes one of his hands to grab your throat roughly. He holds you captive, staring at your own stretched cunt on display for you in the mirror.

“Good, good girl,” he says, “now watch Daddy make you cum.”

The band inside you snaps viciously; your back arches away from him, and you squirt, gushing all over your bed sheets, inhuman sounds tearing from your throat where you struggle under his hand. Jean’s working you through the whole thing, still steadily pumping his fingers and whispering dirty little nothings into your ear. It finally begins to quiet, overstimulation washing over you. You push urgently at his wrist, mumbling something or other about “too much, too much”.

Jean mercifully obliges, pulling his hand from you with a shameful sucking sound, giving your pussy another light slap.

“Such a good girl for me, yeah? How you feelin’?”

“Good, so good,” you slur, “I’ve never– never…”

“Never squirted?” Jean’s eyebrows shoot up at your answering nod before a smug expression settles over his face. “Such a fun little toy, aren’t you? Just wait, you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Your cunt clenches around nothing; so he can make you do that? Again? Jean’s slid out from behind you and is repositioning your limp body, dragging you down the bed by your ankles to line you up with his cock. He bends your knees up, pressing them close to your head. Jesus, he’s going to kill you at this rate.

“Want me to fuck you?”

“Please,” you hate the begging lilt to your voice, but you’re beyond fighting it. You gave up the reins a long time ago when you knelt for him, let him call you a good girl, let him fuck your throat.

“I’ve got you, pretty girl, Daddy’s gotcha,” Jean starts bullying his way into your pussy, still tight and pulsing from your orgasm. “Shit, got a tight little cunt, don’t you? Feels so good– fuck.”

You’re simpering under him, barely able to process the stretch of his cock in you. He’s well-endowed and you’re overwhelmed, a dizzying combination for your fucked-out brain to handle. Just when you think he might be in your throat he’s so deep in you, his hips press to the back of your thighs, both of you letting out a long groan at the feeling.

“So pretty,” Jean muses, not moving yet, just placing a thumb on your clit and absentmindedly playing with it, “such a beautiful pussy.”

You whine, frustrated. He glares at you, landing a harsh smack to your inner thigh.

“I’m not going to warn you again.”

“Please fuck me, oh God, please,” you pant, past the point of humility. Jean licks his lips, presses his palms deep into the backs of your knees, practically folding you in half. He gives you what you ask for.

You’re jolted back and forth on the mattress, mouth hung open in a silent scream as he splits you open on him, forces every inch deep into you. His tip’s kissing your cervix, pain blooming in your abdomen, but you don’t even care, so lost in the rhythm of his hips.

“Jean, I– oh my God,” you try to tell him how good he feels, but all you get is a firm hand around your throat.

“Who’s fucking this pretty cunt up, hm? Fucking you good and deep? Who is it?”

“Daddy,” you choke out, breathless, “Daddy’s.”

“There you go,” Jean’s focused on where you’re connected, eyes never leaving the frothy white ring forming around the base of his cock. You’re crying again, vaguely aware of the streams of tears running down your temples, into your hairline, but fuck, he just feels so good your brain can’t even process it. Jean takes notice, wipes one of your tears and licks it off of his thumb. “Cute fucking crybaby, all happy and cockdrunk, aren’t you?”

You whimper some semblance of an agreement, feeling the band of tension in you already getting stretched to a breaking point. He’s at an angle that allows him to hammer into the most delicious spot inside of you, rubbing against it with each thrust.

“Gonna cum soon, I– I’m gonna cum soon,” you manage, locking his gaze.

“Let me feel it, go on, do it for me,” Jean pants, squeezing your neck tighter. The lack of air goes to your head; the room spins until all you can focus on is him pounding into you. You cum violently, throbbing around his cock, thrashing against his strong arms. Jean fucks you through it, never losing his pace. “Good fucking girl, just like that.”

You’re practically wheezing as your senses return to you, clawing at Jean’s arm on your throat. He lets up on your neck, smiling down at you. “Feel good?”

“Mhm,” you hum, blissed out and half-asleep until Jean flips you, forcing you to prop up on your hands and knees. “Wait, Jean–”

“Wait?” Jean scoffs, sliding back into you. You let out a little cry, and he smacks your ass sharply. “This is what you asked for, right? Said I was being too nice to you.”

“I didn’t– oh my god…” your eyes roll back into your head, a well-placed thrust cutting your words off. “It’s so…it’s so much, Jean.”

Jean lands three more sharp slaps to your ass, already thrusting into you at a brutal pace. “What was that?”

“T-too much, Daddy,” you collapse, face shoved into the bed to mask the pitiful cries leaving your mouth. It is too much; if you tuck your chin to your chest, you can see a little bulge in your tummy where he’s fucking into you, another orgasm already building in the pit of your stomach. You feel like you might pass out if he makes you cum again, but he’s ruthless.

“Too much?” Jean coos, fisting your hair to turn your face. He’s glaring down at you. “You were practically begging me for it, and my pretty girl gets what she wants, right? Said you wanted it rough, so you’re going to fucking take it.”

You nod miserably, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Jean hisses when you clamp down around him. “Squeezing me so goddamn tight, this pussy.”

You feel a hand start thrumming insistently against your clit and nearly shriek; your pussy’s so swollen, so sensitive already. You claw at the bedsheets, feeling something warm and wet swelling inside of you.

“Daddy, I– fuck, it’s, it’s–”

“Gonna make you squirt again,” it’s a promise from behind your ear, “you’re gonna squirt on my cock and Daddy’ll cum for you, okay?”

“I can’t, I–” you’re wailing, words cut off by your own moans. Jean loves it, you can feel his thrusts growing more urgent against your hips, so deep in you you could choke.

“You can,” he corrects you, hand moving faster, “want Daddy to cum in you?”

“Yes, please, p-please,” You cry, letting him use you as he wishes. 

“I’ll give it to you, gotta cum first, you can do that, can’t you? Taking me so well, pretty girl, just need you to cum one more time for me.”

“Uh-huh,” the edges of your vision are starting to close in. He’s ruthless, hips slamming into yours hard enough to bruise, cock stretching you out so nicely, you can’t hold it, but you know, somewhere deep in this primal part of your brain, you need to be good, need to ask him. “Need to cum, Daddy, please– please let me, I–”

“Go ahead,” Jean shushes you, hips moving impossibly faster, “be a good girl, let me feel it.”

That tips you over the edge and Jean makes good on his promise; your cum is dripping out of you, spraying onto his thighs and ruining your sheets. You’re thrashing your head back and forth and sobbing through your orgasm, pinned and powerless under him. Jean swears at the vice-like grip you have on him; it doesn’t take him long to follow suit, pressing himself as deep as he can go, cumming in you. He bends over you as he does, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to him, kissing you hard in a mess of tongue and teeth. You feel it warming your stomach, moaning appreciatively until you both collapse in a sweaty mess of limbs, gasping for breath and clutching onto one another.

Jean allows himself a few moments to catch his breath, and then he’s pulling out of you, leaving you empty and whimpering. He shushes you, holding you close to his chest and letting you work through the intense session in his arms. You’ve never been so fucked out, nuzzling into his chest and simply letting him hold you, letting the aftershocks wrack through your sore body. After a few minutes you’re coming to; the haze begins to lift, and you peek up at him, unsure of where to start after…that.

“You okay?”

You turn the words over in your mouth before you can get them out, still feeling a bit like you’re floating. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. That was…wow.”

Jean, the man that just held you down and forced what were probably life-threatening orgasms out of you, blushes. “Yeah, it was really something.”

“Yeah, it was,” you agree, giggling despite yourself. Your mind is still a little cloudy, a little soft after everything. “But it was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Jean grins, hoisting you up into his lap so you can both sit up, still cradling you to his chest. “Not too gentle, was I?”

Your face grows hot, you want to hide it behind your hands. “No, not too gentle.”

“You were right earlier,” he admits, “I was definitely holding out on you just because the way I like to…I mean, I don’t think I need to get too into it, you were there. It can be a lot. Didn’t want to push you too far.”

You hum contentedly, playing with the little gold chain he always wears. “I understand that now, but I’m a big girl. I can handle whatever you want to give me, promise.”

“Don’t say that,” Jean groans, “too tired for round two.”

Your hand falls into the mess between your thighs, and you wince. “Maybe after a shower?”

“Greedy,” Jean tuts, scooping you up with him to make the journey over to your bathroom, “my greedy, pretty girl.”

[flemingsfreckles]

Drunk Dial Pt 2

PART ONE IS HERE

Warning: alcohol consumption, language, suggestive comments, mentions of sex

WC: 2.9k

A/N: I feel like yall are going to be mad at me for this part but angst and conflict are fun🤷‍♀️ as always if yall want a part 3 just let me know.

It had been a few weeks since your rather embarrassing evening. You had pretty much remained “no contact” with Jessie. Or at least that’s what you both claimed you were doing.

You had dropped off the clothes she had let you borrow two days after you had spent the night. You had washed them, put them into a bag and dropped the bag at her doorstep, sending her a text to let her know. What you had also done was put a bag of her favorite coffee beans along with a card into the same bag with her shirt and shorts.

You didn’t mean anything with the extra gift, it was simply a thank you, just as the card stated. Nothing more, no secret intention behind it, just a thank you for taking care of you. It was also an apology for even putting her in that position. This led to a text from Jessie thanking you for the beans and mentioning that there was no need for the extra gift. Which then led the two of you to discuss your current favorite coffee shops. You had a couple other innocent chats since but then after a few days your communication died off and you were back to silence.

It was a few weeks later when you found yourself crawling into bed after what was a nice first date with another girl you had been talking to, Haley. Thankfully, she didn’t ditch you as the other girl had and the two of you actually got dinner and drinks together. The two of you had gotten along well over text but once in person with the girl, she had been bland. It felt like the vibe the two of you shared over text had been swept away, the girl was plenty nice and sure she was pretty but in the back of your mind you kept telling yourself one thing. She wasn’t Jessie. You found yourself comparing her to Jessie, which you knew wasn’t fair to her. You had walked her home and politely declined when she offered to bring you upstairs. You weren’t one to spend the night right away, it had never been something you did, jumping into bed with a girl right away.

You adjusted the pillows before turning on the tv and flipping through channels until you landed on what you knew was happening but you had hoped to avoid. The NWSL championship game. Being played just a few minutes away from you, it had been impossible to avoid knowing it was happening. It was also impossible to avoid that the thorns were the talk of the town.

You couldn’t help but laugh, as you turned the game on being met immediately with your ex girlfriend’s face on the screen as she took a corner kick. You weren’t together anymore but suddenly the nerves of watching her play were back. You hardly watched her games anymore, you’d check the score lines usually but watching felt weird so you hardly did it. The game was nearing the final minutes, Portland leading 2-1. You watched until the final whistle blew and you watched Jessie take off at full speed toward her teammates in celebration and then you watched the screen turn black as you turned it off.

You regretted turning it on, you shouldn’t have watched. Now you sat debating if you should text her a quick congratulations. Your debate was short lived as you decided against it and instead rolled over trying to put yourself to bed.

You toss and turn for what feels like hours, unable to sleep. Letting out a sigh you roll over and grab your phone, it wouldn’t help to doom scroll, but it would cure your boredom. As if she knew you were bored and awake, you receive a text a few minutes after picking up your phone.

Jessie: Hey :)

You: Hi Jessie, congratulations by the way.

Jessie: How did you know

Jessie: Thank you :)

Jessie: What are

Jessie: u doing?

You shake your head at her texts, obvious signs she had been drinking and enjoying herself at the post game celebrations. Jessie wasn’t usually a texter anyway, when she did it usually had punctuation, she spelled everything out, she didn’t send smiley faces or emojis, she was pretty cut and dry over text. When she was drinking, she wasn’t.

You: Nothing, had a date tonight, trying to get to sleep.

It’s a minute later before you see Jessie’s face, her beautiful face and her hand holding the flower out to you on your screen as she calls you. You watch it ring for a moment before answering.

“Hello?” You say, immediately cringing at the loud sound on the other end. Voices, loud music, you imagined Jessie was out with her team celebrating.

“Hi!” Jessie shouts back at you. You can hear her giggle to herself. “Hi” she says again. “Did you watch me play?”

“Having a good time celebrating Jess?”

“Yes, but do you know what would make it better?” She pauses for half a second, not even letting you answer before she tells you. “If you were here.”

You let the line go silent for a moment, unsure of what exactly you should say to her. “Go hang out with your teammates Jess, go celebrate.”

“Please?” You hear her voice, less of a yell now, asking you politely.

“Please what?” You ask.

“Come celebrate, come meet me, I want you here.” She says in a voice you know you can’t resist.

When you walk in the bar you hear the same noises you heard in the background of your call with Jessie. You were already cursing yourself from pulling your body from the nice warm bed and instead out to the streets of Portland. You could’ve been in your sweats but instead were now in jeans and a Portland shirt, one you had bought before even knowing Jessie.

Loud music, loud conversation filled the humid air. You look around your eyes catching Sinclair across the room. She squints a look of confusion across her face before she excuses herself from her conversation and makes her way toward you.

“Hey.” Her voice resembles the confused look on her face.

“Hey Sinc.”

“I don’t mean to be rude but what are you doing here?”

“Jessie called me, begged me to come. I know she’s probably drunk, I just want to make sure she is okay. I’m not going to stay long.” You wave your hands as you explain, you knew you’d probably get questioned by a couple of people on why you were there but you didn’t care too much.

Sinc lets out a long sigh, bringing a hand to her forehead pinching her temple. “She’s been talking about you all night, I just didn’t think she’d call. I would’ve taken her phone.”

“I didn’t expect a call either.” You stick your hands in your pockets, gently rocking on to the heels of your feet before shifting to your toes. You were starting to feel uncomfortable. “I should just go. Sorry.” You turn to head back the way you had come in when you hear her voice. The voice calling, shouting your name over and over.

Turning back around you are suddenly face to face with the freckles you still adore. You watch as her eyes grow wide and she breaks into a dorky smile.

“You came?” Jessie’s face appears shocked, as if she wasn’t expecting you to be there after begging you on the phone to come meet her.

“I mean you called, you asked me to.” You shrug. You couldn’t tell her that the reason you came was because you were still truly, madly, and deeply in love with her. So you lied to her. “Plus you came to me the other week so, I owe you.” You tried to play it off as if you weren’t equally excited to have heard her beg you to come.

“Let’s dance!” She says before grabbing your hand and pulling you away from Sinc.

“Let me know if you need help.” She shouts after you as Jessie pulls you harder into the crowd of people.

You kept your distance on the dance floor at first. Only holding onto Jessie’s hand as she danced around you. Watching her make you smile seeing her so carefree. As she continued to dance she pulled you closer, her hand trailing to touch your forearm, then your shoulders. Before you knew it Jessie hand her arms looped around your neck as she swayed around, her front brushing up against yours every few moves.

“How was your date?” Jessie asks, a small smirk on her face.

“Really? You want to ask that?” You raised an eyebrow at her.

“Was she as good as me?” You watch as Jessie tried to hold back a smirk, as if she already knows that the date was bad. You roll your eyes at her overconfidence.

“Jessie.”

“I mean clearly not, you didn’t spend the night.”

“Shut up. You know I don’t do that on the first date anyway.” You gently push her shoulder, playfully before catching yourself realizing you were leaning towards being flirty, that wasn’t the reason you came here.

Jessie takes your playful contact as an invitation, pulling gently on your neck, her fingers threading slightly through your baby hairs, encouraging you to lean down to her. “How about you take me home instead?” She whispers into your ear. One of her hands finds your cheek, softly tilling your head away from her so her lips can graze your ear as she speaks.

“Jessie.” You say to her, almost as a warning.

“Please. I’m still so in love with you, and I know you still feel the same way about me, so take me home.” You pull back, your eyes wide as you listen to her confession. You can feel your heart starting to race, her words ring in your head as you stare back at her. She still loved you. The love of your life still loves you. She was still in love with you, despite saying the opposite the other day. She still loved you and somehow she knew you felt the same. You never told her you still loved her, at least that you know of.

“How did you, how do you know that?” You’re not even sure where to start with the information she just shared with you.

“You told me silly, when I picked you up at Marathon. You sat in my bathroom and told me how I ruined love for you, you told me how you don’t know how anyone will ever make you feel how I did. I feel the same, I’ve been wanting to tell you but I’ve been scared.” She has a slight slur to her speech which brings you back to reality. This wasn’t just Jessie professing her love for you, this was drunk Jessie, who wouldn’t remember this tomorrow, blabbering her feelings at you in her vulnerable state.

“Hey Jess, wait.” You push her back slightly, still trying to process the fact that you might have confessed your feelings to her weeks ago and she had just been withholding telling you.

“Take me home.” You watch as she sticks out her bottom lip, tilting her head so that she’s looking up at you, doing her best to get you to give in.

You know you shouldn’t. She was drunk, not in a clear mind. You shouldn’t give into her. You should ask one of her teammates to make sure she got home safe and you should leave. That’s what you should do. That’s the right thing to do, the angel on your shoulder.

But that’s not what you wanted to do. You wanted to take her home. You wanted to be the one to make sure she was safe, you wanted to care for her, to wash her face, make sure she brushed her teeth, you wanted to tuck her into bed, kiss her forehead and let her fall asleep. When she woke up and had sobered up, and could talk to you with a sober and clear head, you wanted to climb into bed next to her, you wanted to put your lips on hers. You wanted to make love to her, show her how much you had missed her, recommit every inch of her skin to memory. You wanted her back. You wanted her to be yours again.

“Jessie, you’re drunk.”

“But I want you, take me home baby, make me yours again.” Her voice is deep and yet soft in your ear, it causes you to shiver slightly. Hearing her call you baby again had your mind drifting back to when she’d call you that everyday, when you woke up, when you called her when she was away, when you’d pick her up to go to dinner, when she was moaning it in pleasure, back when you were her baby. Jessie lets her hand trail around the side of your neck before she begins to slide it down your chest.

“Jessie, no.” You grab her wrist, pulling it off of your body. You quickly look around, catching the eyes of Sinc. You quickly send her a pointed look, darting your eyes to Jessie. You’re grateful when she seems to get the hint and begins walking your way with Mackenzie.

“Hey Jess, let’s go over here, I’ve gotta show you something.” Sinc says, placing an arm across Jessie’s chest pulling her back from you. She doesn’t put up much of a fight in her happy go lucky state, following her fellow Canadian.

“You alright?” Mackenzie says once Jessie is out of earshot. “I didn’t know you two were back together.”

“Oh, we’re not. I don’t know what we are, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. She drunk called me, it’s a long story. It’s just, she helped me out a few weeks ago so I wanted to do the same but, uh, she was trying to get me to take her home, and not just to sleep.” You watch as Mackenzie raises her eyebrows understanding your implication.

“Not that I would do anything, she’s drunk, but I don’t want her regretting even just letting me bring her home to sleep. She’s not in the right mind to make that choice. I don’t want to put her in that situation. I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. All I want is her to feel comfortable when she wakes up. I just want her safe.” You ramble on to the goalkeeper who nods kindly at you

“We’ll take her home with us, we have a guest room, my girlfriend hasn’t been drinking.“ Mackenzie says, gesturing to the woman standing next to her. “We’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Arnold smiles at you. “You’re just looking out for her. There’s no need to be sorry for that.”

“I just didn’t realize how drunk she was when she called me or how many more drinks she had since I’ve been here. I just don’t feel comfortable putting her in a weird spot with me. I think she was saying and telling me stuff she wouldn’t if she was sober. I don’t want her to be embarrassed or regret anything.”

“Don’t feel guilty about what you did, you made the right choice. Let me get your number, I’ll let you know she’s home safely.” You and Mackenzie quickly exchange phone numbers and you thank her one last time before heading for the door.

As you slumped into your car seat you let your forehead come to rest on the top of your steering wheel. You didn’t know how to feel, split between sadness, anger, and a tiny bit of longing.

You were mad Jessie didn’t tell you what you had confessed in her bathroom weeks ago. Had she done so maybe the two of you would have talked, maybe you would’ve worked things out, you wouldn’t be playing this silly game of missing her and trying to move on simultaneously, and that made you sad. You were mad at her for calling and begging you to come, mad at her for trying to get you to take her to bed. Feeling of anger was also at yourself and your own stupid decisions. You could have ignored her texts, ignored her pleas over the phone to come see her, you could have, but you didn’t.

You looked over into your passenger seat, your phone and wallet sprawled there. You grabbed your phone unlocking it and opening your messages. You saw Jessie’s name, looking at it for a second too long before you clicked just below hers.

You: Hey, I know it’s late, any chance that invite still stands?

You: You’re still on my mind.

Maybe that was a lie, maybe she wasn’t on your mind, but Jessie certainly was and you wanted something else to distract you.

Haley: Of course, give me a call when you’re outside.

You punched in the address that you had dropped her off at just a few hours ago before throwing your car in drive and heading her way.

[hollyoongs]

Let's go to the beach-each (nicki minaje - starships) Let's go get a wave

ᨓ 。kim donghyun x fem reader ꒰🌊꒱ ﹕fluff ﹕+8.5k contains: surfer!leehan and lifeguard!fem reader, slight enemies to lovers and slight slowburn, mention of the rest of BND members THIS IS FOR THE #SWY EVENT COMING 2 U BY @onedoornet ┈─★

The sun blazed overhead as you stood at your lifeguard post, scanning the ocean for any signs of trouble. Busan’s beach was packed, as always, with tourists and locals soaking up the summer heat. You squinted against the sunlight, and there he was—again.

Leehan, the surfer who consistently defined the rules.

Leehan was the type of surfer who thrived on teasing and stirring up playful trouble, especially with anyone who dared to challenge him. He had a natural, effortless charm, the kind that made people—especially girls—think they had his attention when, in reality, he was always a step ahead, never letting anyone get too close.

His laid-back attitude, paired with his sharp wit, made him irresistible to most, and they often mistook his flirtatious smirks and lighthearted jabs for something more. But Leehan wasn’t one to be tied down or caught up in romantic expectations. To him, the fun lay in the game, not in the commitment, and he enjoyed keeping people guessing, always in control, never truly letting anyone see past the surface.

He rode a wave effortlessly, his form sharp and perfect as he carved through the water. It would’ve been impressive if it weren’t for the fact that he always surfed in the restricted areas, despite your repeated warnings. You huffed, standing up and blowing your whistle loud enough for him to hear, waving your arm to signal him back to the safe zone.

But instead of acknowledging you, he threw you a cocky smirk while waving his hand, returning the gesture, and kept riding the wave. Your blood boiled. This was the third time this week.

After what felt like an eternity of him ignoring you, he finally paddled back to shore, dripping wet and grinning as if nothing was wrong. He sauntered up to where you stood, his surfboard tucked under his arm.

"Something wrong, lifeguard?" he asked, raising an eyebrow, feigning innocence.

"Yeah, there is," you snapped, crossing your arms over your chest. "That area is off-limits. You know that."

Leehan shrugged, flicking his wet hair back, and your eyes couldn't lose the opportunity to see his neckbone stretch out, his Adam's apple on full display. "I wasn’t causing any trouble. Just catching a wave."

"You’re going to cause an accident," you retorted, standing your ground. "If you don’t follow the rules, I’ll have to ban you from the beach."

He grinned wider, clearly not taking you seriously. "You think you can handle that?"

Your irritation flared. "Don’t test me, Leehan. I’m here to keep people safe, not babysit rebellious surfers."

"Whatever you say, lifeguard," he said, mocking with his tone, turning away as if the conversation was over. "Just try not to get too worked up over little things."

His winked at you as he left; you watched him walk off, fuming. You sighed and sank back into your chair, the familiar sound of waves crashing against the shore doing little to calm your nerves.

Busan Beach was supposed to be a peaceful escape, a break from the chaos of Seoul, where you could spend the summer doing something productive, just like your grandfather had encouraged. Instead, it felt like you had signed up for a full-time job babysitting an unruly, reckless surfer.

Mingyu, the head lifeguard, had warned you about Leehan the first day you showed up in your red lifeguard suit, excited and ready to take on the challenge of keeping the beach safe. He’d pulled you aside and told you in no uncertain terms, “Watch out for Leehan. He’s… persistent.”

You’d laughed it off back then, thinking it couldn’t be that bad. But after a few encounters with him pushing every boundary, you finally understood the exhausted look Mingyu had given you. Leehan wasn’t just persistent—he was relentless.

This rivalry had been building for weeks, and no matter how much you enforced the rules, Leehan never seemed to care. He was infuriating—arrogant, reckless, and completely unaware of how much he got under your skin.

The next day, it was the same routine. You on the tower, keeping an eye on everyone, and him in the water, pushing every boundary he could. By noon, you’d had enough and stormed over to where he was setting up his board.

"Do you enjoy making my job harder?" you asked, voice sharp.

He looked up at you, clearly amused by your frustration. "Maybe I just enjoy getting a rise out of you."

You opened your mouth to fire back, but before you could, a sudden scream cut through the air. You both turned toward the water, where a young boy was struggling in the strong current.

Without hesitation, you dropped everything and sprinted toward the water, adrenaline surging through your veins. You dove in, swimming as fast as you could to reach him, your training kicking in automatically.

Just as you reached the boy and grabbed him, you saw Leehan beside you, his strong arms helping to keep the boy afloat. You exchanged a brief, surprised glance before focusing on getting the boy back to shore.

Once on land, you both worked together to make sure the boy was okay, adrenaline still pumping through your veins. As soon as the boy’s parents arrived, you finally allowed yourself to breathe.

"Oh my God, I told you to not go there without dad! Thank you so much, darling." The mother of the boy hugged you so tight that you thought you were about to have a lack of oxygen anytime soon. You heard claps from the people that saw everything, and you blushed, bowing at them and returning to your tower, not noticing that Leehan was behind you.

You climbed back up to your lifeguard tower, your heart still racing from the rescue. The adrenaline had yet to leave your system, and you were trying to calm yourself when you felt someone’s presence behind you. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Leehan; his familiar energy was unmistakable.

"What now?" you asked, not bothering to look at him as you plopped down into your chair, hoping the waves could drown out your lingering frustration.

Leehan’s voice came from closer than you expected. "That was impressive."

You blinked, surprised by the compliment. Turning slightly, you saw him standing there, no cocky smirk, no playful teasing. Just genuine respect in his eyes. It threw you off.

"You helped," you said, slightly begrudgingly but acknowledging the fact that he had been right there in the water with you, making sure the boy was safe. It was the first time you’d seen him take something seriously.

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Guess I’m not always causing trouble, huh?"

You huffed, leaning back in your chair. "Don’t get used to it. You’re still on thin ice with me, surfer."

Leehan chuckled, the sound softer than usual. "I can live with that." He tilted his head, looking at you with curiosity. "You ever think maybe you’re a little too uptight? Not everything has to be a battle."

Your jaw clenched. "Not everything is a joke, Leehan. Some of us have responsibilities."

"And some of us know how to enjoy life while still being responsible," he countered, that familiar teasing edge slipping back into his tone. "Maybe you should try it sometime."

"Go to hell," you said, and he laughed at you. Well, at your answer. "Thankfully, I will only deal with you for the next two months."

"Two months?" you nodded, answering him while looking at the horizon, seeing how the majority of people were already leaving as a cool breeze started to feel.

"I'm going back to Seoul. Only coming here for my summer vacations and my grandpa." You look to your left, his body leaning against the balcony through which you could see everything, his gaze fixed on you.

You started to take your things, cleaning in the process some of the food you had eaten and writing a report for Mingyu—all of that in the presence of Leehan, who was giving you space.

Both of you left the tower; you left Leehan there, not thinking that he would only take his surfboard and run to you, catching you up.

"Where are you going?" Your eyes narrowed, feeling weird out for his drastic change of behavior.

"My grandpa's house." You pointed at the colorful house; you knew your dad was in the neighbor's house playing cards, so he won't embarrass you with a comment in the presence of Leehan.

The boy next to you let out a sigh. "I only have two months to bother you."

"You already bothered me for a month; I think I can handle two months, sadly."

"Oh, please, you love nagging me. You love me." He sang the "love" word, and you pushed him; he laughed as you once again left him behind. You reached the door of the house, your key opening it easily. Leehan left his surfboard on the sand and putted a hand on your door as you were about to close it. "I'm sorry."

"You wanna know something, Leehan? I love making memories at the beach, but right now you're causing me stress. Please, let me have a peaceful two months," he put a thinking face, looking at you short after.

"I will help you with that," your eyes shinned.

"You're not coming to the beach?" He scoffed at your answer.

"No, but I will help you make memories. Ones that you won't forget." You both stood there, his hand coming to your vision as he put a string of your hair to the back of your right ear. "Only if you let me."

"Good night, Leehan."

As the door clicked shut, you leaned your back against it, your heart still racing. Leehan's words echoed in your mind, that teasing tone now laced with something deeper, something unfamiliar. He'd always been a thorn in your side, a source of frustration, but tonight, something had shifted. His offer—no, his promise—lingered in the air.

"Only if you let me."

You shook your head, trying to shake off the warmth blooming in your chest.

The next few days went by in a blur of routine—keeping an eye on beachgoers, making sure everything was running smoothly. Leehan acted like nothing happened, and so did you. He wasn’t causing trouble like before. In fact, he stayed in the safe zones, and whenever you crossed paths, he’d flash you a soft grin. Keyword, soft.

If he wasn't in the safe zones, he was relaxing under the umbrella; even sometimes he would come to talk to you; no bickering and no fighting. You even got to know more about him; he was applying to an university in Seoul with his best friends; he had a dog; he got his first surfboard at the solid age of six; knowing small things makes you see him less insoferable.

This was one of those days, a small lunch break as he talked to you.

"Hey, can you not go at the same time as always?" You cleaned your mouth with a napkin, your eyebrows frowning.

"Why would I not do that? My shift is over by that." He put a finger between your brows, and you relaxed them.

"You said you want to make memories. Right?"

"Hey, Leehan!" You both heard a male scream. Looking from the balcony, there were five boys, all of them waving at the boy, and for the first time, you could see a big smile on his face.

"Sungho!" He looked at you as he stood up. "Meet me outside the tower. My friends came to surf." You didn't even have time to answer; he left, and you could see through the balcony how he jumped to his friends, making you smile at the brotherly view.

Time flew really slowly, watching the people and Leehan with his friends. You wouldn't admit it, but his friends were as handsome as him, but there was something about Leehan that simply made you look at him more. Just like he said, as you were going down the mini stairs the tower had, you could look at him in the distance with not one surfboard but with two. A few minutes past when he stood in front of you, the surfboards in both of his sizes.

"What are you doing?"

"More like, what are we doing?" He gently gave you a surfboard with a smile. "We are surfing."

"Yeah, there's no way I would do that." You pointed the surfboard, and he opened his eyes.

"Come on! It would be fun; what's stopping? Because, as far as I know, you are on vacation." You gulped, looking down at the sand.

"I don't know how to surf."

Leehan's lips curled into a teasing grin, his eyes lighting up. "You don't know how to surf? You’ve been a lifeguard this whole time and never tried."

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you held your ground. "It's not like I haven’t thought about it. I just never had the chance, and I didn’t want to."

"Embarrass yourself?" He finished, stepping closer; the surfboard balanced easily under his arm. You looked away, feeling the warmth of his presence. "Don't worry. I’ll teach you."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. "I don't need a cocky surfer trying to teach me something I’ll probably fail at."

Leehan tilted his head, his expression softening. "I'm not that bad of a teacher, you know. And I won't let you fail. Besides," he added with a wink, "you can’t leave here without making at least one memory that you’ll actually want to keep, right?"

You hesitated, watching as his teasing demeanor slowly faded into something more sincere. The offer was genuine. And there was something in his eyes—something that made you believe, for just a moment, that this wasn’t a game to him anymore. He was serious about making a memory with you.

"Fine," you sighed, taking the surfboard from his hand, the weight of it heavier than you expected. "But if I wipe out, it's on you."

Leehan laughed; the sound was warm and carefree. "Deal."

He guided you toward the water, explaining the basics as you walked side by side along the shore. His usual teasing was gone, replaced by patient instructions as he showed you how to balance, how to paddle, and how to read the waves. For the first time, you saw him differently—not as the rebellious, rule-breaking surfer who drove you crazy, but as someone who was genuinely passionate about the ocean and everything that came with it.

The sun was starting to set, casting a golden glow over the beach as you finally paddled out together. The waves were gentle, and Leehan stayed close, his eyes on you the entire time. "You ready?" he called out over the sound of the surf.

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest as you focused on staying steady.

"Okay, when the next wave comes, I want you to pop up and keep your knees bent. Don’t overthink it, just feel it," he said, his voice calm and reassuring.

You waited, your breath catching in your throat as the wave approached. Leehan gave you a nod, and with all the courage you could muster, you popped up, your legs shaky but holding. For a brief, glorious moment, you were riding the wave, your heart soaring.

Then, just as quickly, you lost your balance and tumbled into the water with a splash.

When you resurfaced, sputtering and laughing despite yourself, Leehan was right there, grinning at you like he’d just witnessed the most impressive feat in the world. "Not bad for your first try!"

You playfully splashed water at him. "I wiped out."

He shrugged, still grinning. "You got up. That’s what counts."

You couldn’t help but smile, your earlier frustration melting away. There was something about the way he looked at you in that moment—like he was genuinely proud of you—that made your heart skip a beat.

As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, you paddled back to shore, the soft sand welcoming your tired feet. Leehan walked beside you, the atmosphere between you lighter, more relaxed. For once, there was no teasing, no arguments—just an unspoken understanding.

"You did good today," he said, his voice softer than usual as he set his surfboard down.

"Thanks," you replied, brushing some sand off your arms. "I guess you’re not such a terrible teacher after all."

Leehan chuckled, but then his smile faded slightly as he looked at you, his gaze lingering longer than usual. "You know, I wasn’t kidding about what I said before."

You tilted your head, curious. "About what?"

"About making memories." He stepped closer, his expression more serious now, the playful, carefree surfer gone. "I want you to remember this summer… with me."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard. This wasn’t the cocky surfer who loved pushing your buttons. This was Leehan, standing in front of you, vulnerable for the first time. You could feel the weight of his words, the way they hung in the air between you.

"I…" you started, unsure of how to respond. Your heart was racing again, but this time, it wasn’t because of the adrenaline from the waves.

He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your skin. "I think I’ve been spending so much time trying to get a rise out of you because…" He trailed off, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "I like being around you, lifeguard."

You blinked, the confession catching you completely off guard. "Leehan…"

He gave you a small, nervous smile—something you’d never seen from him before. "I know I can be a pain, but… I think we’re past that now, don’t you?"

For once, you didn’t have a sharp comeback. Instead, you found yourself nodding, your heart pounding in your chest as you took in the sight of him standing there, more open and vulnerable than you’d ever seen him.

"Yeah," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. "We are."

Leehan’s eyes softened as he stepped closer, the teasing smile replaced by something warmer, more genuine. "Good," he said quietly, his hand lingering on your arm for just a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away, his eyes still locked on yours. "Then let’s make this a summer to remember."

— : ☆

Another month and a half has passed, and you can’t count how many times you’ve gone out with Leehan. Each time surprises you—once, you were at an aquarium where he wouldn’t stop talking about fish (which was a pretty big surprise, considering how much he loved marine life), and another time you were decorating cookies at his house with his lovely grandma, who adored you.

Leehan had invited you to a quiet café hidden on the outskirts of the beach town, one with a view of the ocean but far away from the usual crowd of surfers and tourists. It was intimate and cozy, with soft music playing in the background and large windows that let in the golden light of the setting sun.

“So, this is one of my favorite spots,” Leehan said as you both settled into your seats. He smiled, but there was a nervousness behind it, like he was waiting for your reaction.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, gazing out at the waves. “I didn’t even know this place existed.”

He grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Told you I had good taste.”

You spent the next hour talking about everything and nothing—about university, future plans, the places you’d want to visit. Leehan opened up more than usual, telling you about his worries about moving and not being accepted for university, about missing the place that made him grow, and about how he wasn’t sure if he was ready to leave behind this part of his life.

“I mean, I love surfing, but it’s not just that, you know?” he said, his voice softer than usual. “It’s… everything. The people. The memories. This summer.”

You glanced up at him, your chest tightening at the way his eyes softened when he looked at you. "You’ll miss it, won’t you?"

“Yeah.” He smiled faintly, his gaze lingering on yours for a moment before looking out at the ocean. “But I’ll miss you more. I like your personality, lifeguard.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than they should have been, making your pulse quicken. He wasn’t teasing. There was no playful glint in his eyes, no mischievous grin on his lips. It was just… him. Honest. Vulnerable.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you smiled softly, reaching across the table to lightly tap his arm. “I’ll miss you too, Leehan. I like your personality too, surfer.”

He looked down at your hand on his arm, his expression unreadable for a moment before he turned back to you. His hand slid over yours, gentle and warm, sending a shiver down your spine. “This summer,” he began, his voice trailing off as he searched for the right words. “It’s been different. Because of you.”

Your heart raced, the air between you thick with unspoken feelings. You wanted to say something—anything—to fill the silence, to break the tension, but you couldn’t. Instead, you stayed there, your hand still under his, the weight of his touch grounding you in the moment.

Before you could fully process what was happening, the waiter came by with your drinks, breaking the spell. Leehan pulled his hand away slowly, almost reluctantly, and you both shifted back into the comfortable rhythm of your conversation.

But the atmosphere had changed. There was a tension now, a soft, electric current running between you that neither of you could ignore.

As the evening went on, you wandered down to the beach together, the cool sand beneath your feet and the sound of the waves lapping against the shore. The sky was a blend of purples and oranges, the last remnants of the sunset painting everything in a dreamy haze.

Leehan walked beside you in silence for a while, his hands tucked into his pockets. You glanced over at him, noticing the way his brow was furrowed slightly, like he was deep in thought.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, nudging him with your elbow.

He blinked, looking over at you with a small smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“About what?”

He hesitated for a moment before turning to face you fully, his gaze intense. “About creating your next memory”

You looked up at Leehan, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes. The evening had been perfect, filled with quiet moments and laughter, and now, as you stood together on the beach with the ocean breeze swirling around you, his words felt like a promise.

“Creating my next memory?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Leehan nodded, his smile softening. “Yeah. I want us to have more moments like this, you know? I want us to remember this summer not just as a time when we were friends but as something more.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the rush of emotions that were flooding over you. The way he spoke made it clear that this wasn’t just about summer or surfing; it was about something deeper, something real.

“What do you have in mind?” you asked, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness.

Leehan’s eyes sparkled with a mixture of mischief and affection. “It's a secret. And it will take time.”

"Really?" Leehan nodded as he took the stairs to your house along with you.

"Yeah, so you'll be free from me," you said, making a small pout.

"I started to get used to your annoying ass." You opened your door quietly; it was pretty late, and you knew your grandpa was sleeping.

Leehan put his palms on the door frame once I was inside, his face stretched to match mine. "Once again, you prove to me that you…"

"Don't do-"

"Love me." Like the first time, he sang the first word, but on the contrary, one month ago, this time you rolled your eyes with a smirk on your face, pushing him out as he gave you a smile.

"Goodnight, Leehan." You gave him your back to go to the kitchen, but his hand caught your waist and made you spin. Now you were face to face, your hands on his chest for support due to the sudden movement.

The moonlight bathed Leehan in a soft glow, casting a halo around him that made your heart skip a beat. His fingers lingered on your waist, his touch warm and gentle, as if he were testing the boundaries of the moment, unsure if he should take it further or let it fade.

You held your breath, feeling the weight of the unspoken tension between you. The electric current that had been building all evening was finally reaching its peak. His eyes searched yours, dark and intense, as though he was trying to find the courage to say what had been left unsaid for weeks.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I'm going to make this last week with you memorable. I'll give you my word.” Your heart hammered in your chest, and you felt yourself leaning in, pulled toward him like the tide to the shore. His face was so close now, close enough that you could see the way his breath hitched. His lips went to your cheek in the softest way possible.

He took his hands off your body, now a soft smile in his face as he watched you. So ethereal, so beautiful, so unique.

"Good night, lifeguard."

— : ☆

It wasn’t like him to go radio silent, especially after what had happened that night at your house. You found yourself constantly checking your phone, hoping for a text, a call—anything that would explain why he was gone so suddenly. But there was nothing. The beach felt different without him—quieter, lonelier. Even the familiar sounds of the waves crashing against the shore weren’t enough to drown out the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Had something changed between you? Had you crossed a line that couldn’t be undone?

Your grandpa had noticed your distraction, but as always, he kept his words to himself, only offering the occasional knowing smile whenever you seemed particularly lost in thought. It was a week later, though, when he came to you, holding a package wrapped in delicate, sea-blue paper.

“This arrived for you,” he said, his eyes twinkling with a quiet amusement.

You blinked, looking between him and the package. “For me?”

He nodded, handing it over. “From Leehan. He said you’d know when to wear it.”

Your heart fluttered at the sound of his name, and with trembling fingers, you carefully unwrapped the package, noticing something written in the wrap paper.

"Tonight. Be ready at 7. I’ll be waiting on the beach."

Inside was a dress—a beautiful, flowing white dress, simple yet elegant, with delicate lace details around the neckline. It was the kind of dress that felt timeless, like something out of a fairytale.

"How does he know my size?" you whispered.

"I called your mother, and she gave it to me." Your grandpa surprised you, and he simply winked, leaving your room as you admired the dress.

By the time the sun began to set, you were standing at the edge of the beach, your toes sinking into the cool sand. The dress flowed softly with the breeze, and for a moment, you felt like you were in a dream, like you had stepped into one of those romantic movies where the ending was bittersweet but beautiful.

Ahead, you saw it—the soft glow of string lights hanging between two palm trees, illuminating a small table set for two. The sound of distant laughter carried through the wind, and as you got closer, you spotted Leehan’s friends: Woonhak, Taesan, Jaehyun, Sungho, and Riwoo. They were busy setting up the final touches, but the moment they noticed you, they gave you a wave before retreating, leaving the scene just for the two of you.

Leehan stood by the water’s edge, his back turned toward you, his hair ruffled by the wind. He was wearing a white shirt that matched the dress he had chosen for you, and as he turned to face you, his eyes softened. The moon had begun to rise behind him, casting a silver light over the beach, making the whole scene feel like something out of a storybook.

“You look…” His voice trailed off, his gaze lingering on you as if words weren’t enough to capture what he wanted to say. “…perfect.”

You smiled softly, stepping closer. “This is beautiful, Leehan. I can’t believe you did all this.”

He scratched the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. “I had some help,” he admitted, nodding toward the group of friends who were now disappearing down the beach. “But I wanted tonight to be special.”

You glanced around at the lights, the candles flickering on the table, and the waves gently lapping at the shore. It was special—more than you could have ever imagined. But beneath the beauty of it all, there was a bittersweet undercurrent, a silent understanding that this summer, this moment, was coming to an end.

As you both sat down at the table, the conversation flowed easily at first—lighthearted, filled with laughter, stories of the past few weeks, and jokes about the lengths he went to keep the evening a surprise. But as the night deepened and the stars began to dot the sky, the mood shifted.

There was a heaviness now, a shared sadness that neither of you could ignore.

Leehan's eyes lingered on yours longer than usual, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on the both of you. The breeze carried the scent of saltwater, the distant hum of the ocean a constant reminder of the fleeting nature of this moment. You took a deep breath, feeling a lump form in your throat as the reality of the situation settled in. Two days. You had two days left together.

“I still haven’t heard back from the university,” Leehan said softly, breaking the silence. His voice was quieter now, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen before. “I keep checking my email, waiting for something, but nothing yet.”

Your heart clenched. You knew how much he wanted this, how hard he had worked to get to this point, and yet here he was—stuck in limbo, waiting for a future that still seemed so uncertain.

“I’m sure it’ll come,” you said, your voice gentle. “Maybe they’re just taking longer than usual.”

He gave a small, tight smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. Maybe.”

You both fell into silence again, the weight of the situation settling heavily between you. The string lights above flickered softly, casting warm, golden hues over the table, but they couldn’t chase away the growing ache in your chest.

Leehan leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair, his gaze fixed on the ocean. “You’re leaving in two days.”

It wasn’t a question, just a statement—a fact that hung in the air like a cloud over the evening. You swallowed hard, nodding.

“I know,” you whispered, your chest tightening. “It feels like this summer went by too fast.”

He nodded, still not meeting your eyes. “I didn’t want it to end like this. I didn’t want… us to end like this.”

The words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a force you hadn’t expected. Us. He had said it—acknowledging what had been growing between you all summer, the connection that neither of you had dared to put a name to.

“You know,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “I don’t want this to end either.”

Leehan’s eyes finally met yours, and in that moment, the vulnerability in his gaze mirrored your own. The emotions you had both been holding back all summer—fear, excitement, longing—were laid bare, unspoken but undeniable.

“Then why does it feel like we’re both saying goodbye?” His voice was barely above a whisper, the sadness in his tone echoing the ache in your own heart.

You didn’t have an answer. You didn’t know how to explain that sometimes things were too perfect to last. Sometimes, no matter how much you wanted to hold on, life had other plans. You reached across the table, your hand finding his, the warmth of his touch grounding you, even as everything else felt like it was slipping away.

“I’m going to miss you, surfer.” You whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “More than you know.”

Leehan squeezed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’m going to miss you too, lifeguard.”

The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of all the things you couldn’t say—how much you had come to care for him, how much this summer had changed you. But there was no need for words anymore. You both knew. The feelings were there, just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged.

But you wouldn’t say it. Not tonight. Not when the thought of saying goodbye was already too much to bear.

Instead, Leehan stood up, offering you his hand. “Come on,” he said softly. “I have one last surprise.”

You let him lead you down to the water’s edge, the cool waves lapping at your feet. The moon was high in the sky now, casting a silvery glow over the ocean, and for a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the world.

He pulled you into a slow dance, the sound of the ocean and the distant music from a small speaker he installed, blending together into a soft, romantic melody. You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, as if he were trying to memorize the feel of you in his arms.

“Thank you for this,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

He didn’t respond with words. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, his arms tightening around you. And in that moment, you knew. You both knew.

You were in love.

But it was a love you couldn’t hold on to, not right now. Not when the summer was ending and life was pulling you in different directions.

So, for tonight, you danced. You held on to each other as the waves whispered their goodbyes, as the stars blinked down from the sky, and as the world around you faded away. Because in this moment, you didn’t need to say anything.

— : ☆

You stood in the doorway, phone in hand, staring at the screen longer than you should have. The familiar weight in your chest grew heavier, pressing against your ribs as you swallowed down the lump in your throat. The house felt quieter now, the warmth of last night’s memory still lingering in the air. It was hard to believe that just hours ago, everything felt timeless, like your summer would never end. But now… it was real. You were leaving.

Taking a deep breath, you pressed the voice message icon and tried to keep your voice steady.

"Hey, Leehan. Sorry for bothering you. I know you're probably still sleeping, but my mom came earlier than expected, and…" Your voice wavered, but you forced yourself to continue. "I'm leaving right now for Seoul."

A wave of sadness washed over you as you spoke, each word feeling heavier than the last. You paused, trying to collect your thoughts, to say something meaningful, something that could capture the bittersweet emotions flooding your heart. You wanted to thank him for everything—for all the memories, for the way he made this summer feel like something out of a dream.

"Thank you for everything, Leehan. For the beach, for the laughter, for… for making this summer unforgettable." You hesitated, unsure of how to end it. "I’ll miss you."

The words hung in the air, final and inevitable. You released the button, watching the message send with a soft whoosh. It felt like letting go of something precious, something you weren’t quite ready to part with.

You pocketed your phone and turned to face your grandpa, who stood in the doorway watching you with a sad but understanding smile. His arms opened, and without a word, you wrapped yours around him, squeezing tightly. The scent of the sea, the warmth of his flannel shirt—everything about him reminded you of this place, of home.

“I’ll miss you so much, grandpa,” you whispered, your voice breaking just a little. Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away, not wanting this moment to end in sadness.

He patted your back softly, his voice steady. "I’ll miss you too, kiddo. But you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t forget that."

Pulling back, you offered him a watery smile, nodding as you wiped at your eyes. He glanced over at your mom, who was waiting in the car, then back at you.

"You can always come back, you know. This town… it’ll always be here. And so will I."

You nodded, but the heaviness in your heart remained. It was never just about the town. It was about everything that had happened here, the memories you were leaving behind—memories you weren’t ready to let go of, not yet.

With one last look at the house, the beach in the distance, and the path you had walked so many times with Leehan, you climbed into the car. Your mom smiled softly as you buckled in, but you couldn’t return it. Not yet.

The engine started, and as the car pulled away, you found yourself turning back, looking through the rearview mirror at the small beach town fading in the distance.

Leehan stood by your grandpa, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, the bouquet of flowers cradled protectively in his arms. His eyes darted to the road where the car had just disappeared, his face pale with the weight of realization—he was too late. He gripped the flowers tighter, his knuckles white against the delicate petals.

Your grandpa placed a hand on Leehan’s shoulder, his expression soft, filled with the kind of understanding that only comes with age. “You didn’t miss her by much, son. She just left.”

Leehan nodded, but the words didn’t bring him comfort. The ache in his chest only grew as he looked down at the flowers, the card tucked neatly between them, filled with all the words he hadn’t been able to say to you. Five pages, front and back, confessing everything he had felt all summer—everything he had been too afraid to voice.

“I wanted to tell her,” Leehan murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought I had time.”

Your grandpa sighed, his hand still resting gently on Leehan’s shoulder. “Sometimes, we think we have all the time in the world. But life… it doesn’t always wait for us.”

Leehan’s gaze lingered on the empty road, his heart heavy with regret. He had planned everything so carefully—every detail of the beach date, every moment leading up to his confession. But now, it felt like it had slipped through his fingers like sand.

"Leehan!" he heard the familiar scream of Jaehyun; actually, all of his friends were running to him with smiles on their faces. Jaehyun was faster than the rest, a paper in his hand shoving in his face.

"God, MyungJae, what is that?"

"Read it!" He took the paper and read it, his energy below zero slowly going up. He could feel the relief when he read, "We are glad to have you, Kim Dong Hyun, at our university."

"I got in," he said, a small smile on his face.

"We all did! We're going to Seoul, baby!" Woonhak screamed, and that's when a bulb turned on Leehan's head. A soft touch on his shoulder made him look at the old man.

"I think you actually have a chance to give her the flowers."

Leehan’s heart raced as the realization hit him. Seoul. He was going to Seoul. The very place you were headed. He had a chance—maybe not to stop you from leaving, but to find you again, to tell you everything he had kept bottled up all summer.

He looked at his friends, who were all celebrating, but his mind was already somewhere else. Turning to your grandpa, who still had that knowing smile on his face, Leehan felt a surge of determination.

“I need to go after her,” he said, voice shaky but full of resolve.

Your grandpa chuckled softly, nodding. “I figured as much. Go on, son. She’ll be glad to see you.”

— : ☆

A month. That’s how long it had been since you last saw Leehan. No messages, no updates from your grandfather—just an aching silence that grew heavier with each passing day. And now, here you were, standing on the familiar beach in Seoul, the same place you came to clear your head. The sky was a fading blend of soft orange and pink, slowly surrendering to the approaching night.

The dress you wore felt like a relic from a time that felt both distant and painfully close—the same dress from that unforgettable beach date with Leehan. Nostalgia coursed through your veins, memories of that night replaying in your mind as the sound of the waves whispered around you.

You sighed, kicking at the sand as you walked closer to the water, unsure why you had returned here tonight. It was as if some invisible thread had pulled you back to this place, as if the universe wasn’t quite done with the story between you and him.

The soft crash of waves filled the silence, and for a moment, you let yourself get lost in the rhythm of the ocean, your thoughts drifting like the tide.

"That area is off-limits, young lady."

Your heart skipped, your breath catching in your throat as you whipped around at the familiar voice. And there he was, standing a few feet away, wearing that same teasing, lopsided smile that had made you fall for him in the first place. Leehan.

He looked a little different now—more mature, like the month apart had shifted something in him. But his eyes still held that spark, that mischievous glint you had come to adore.

“Leehan?” You breathed, your heart pounding so hard you thought it might burst from your chest.

He gave you a small shrug, his hands tucked casually in his pockets as he took a step closer. “What? You didn’t think I’d just disappear, did you? Especially after all the trouble I went through for that beach date.”

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips, your chest filling with warmth. “I thought you might’ve forgotten about me.”

His eyebrows shot up, a look of mock offense crossing his face. “Forgotten? You, lifeguard?” He stepped even closer, until he was standing right in front of you, his voice dropping to a soft murmur. “Impossible.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, all the hurt and uncertainty from the past month seemed to melt away. But there was still one question you couldn’t shake.

“What are you doing here, Leehan?” You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, that teasing grin never leaving his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bouquet of flowers. “Well, your grandpa might’ve told me a little secret. Something about how you always come here when you need to think.”

You blinked, your chest tightening at the thought of your grandpa playing matchmaker. “He told you where to find me?”

Leehan chuckled, shaking his head as he handed you the flowers. “Yeah, he’s pretty sneaky for an old guy.”

You took the bouquet, feeling the softness of the petals between your fingers, your heart racing at the thought that he had come all this way just for you. But before you could say anything, Leehan stepped closer, his expression softening, his voice turning serious.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurted out, his voice rough with regret. “For not calling, for not texting… for disappearing. I—I wanted to. Every single day, I wanted to reach out, but I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know if you’d even want to hear from me after I let you down.”

Your heart clenched at the sincerity in his voice. You had been angry at first, hurt by his silence, but now, seeing him like this, so vulnerable and broken by his own mistakes, you couldn’t hold on to that anger.

“I missed you,” you said softly, the truth of it spilling from your lips before you could stop it. “I missed you so much, Leehan.”

His eyes softened at your words, but the guilt in his expression remained. “I missed you too. Every day. And I hated myself for not telling you, for letting my own fear keep me from you.”

He took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup your cheek. His touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

"I messed up," he started, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. "I should have called you the moment you left. Every day, I wanted to text you, to hear your voice, to know how you were doing… but I didn’t. I thought giving you space was the right thing. I thought I was being respectful, but honestly, I was just scared."

His thumb grazed over your knuckles, his touch soft, almost hesitant. "I was scared that maybe you'd moved on. Maybe I was just some summer fling to you and that the second you left for Seoul, I’d be forgotten. But I never forgot you. Not for a single second."

His voice cracked, and he paused, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Every time I looked at the ocean, I thought of you. I thought about the way you used to look at it, like it was a part of you, and all I could think was how much I missed you. How much I miss us."

You felt your heart tighten at his words, the weight of his confession sinking deep into your chest. He let out a shaky breath, stepping closer, his hands still holding yours as if he were afraid to let go.

"You have no idea how much I regret not picking up the phone and telling you how I felt. Because, God, I am so in love with you. I love the way you laugh when you think no one’s listening, the way you get lost in your thoughts when you're staring at the waves, the way you make everything feel right. I’ve loved you for so long, and I can’t keep pretending that I don’t."

His gaze softened, and his voice grew even quieter. "I’m sorry for making you think I didn’t care, for being such a coward. But I can’t let you walk away again without telling you how much you mean to me."

He took a deep breath, his grip tightening just a little as he leaned in, his voice steady but filled with an overwhelming tenderness.

"I love you, lifeguard."

The world seemed to fall away in that moment, the weight of his words settling over you like a gentle breeze. Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—joy, relief, and love. You had waited so long to hear those words, and now that they were here, everything felt right.

A slow smile spread across your lips as you looked up at him, your hand tightening in his. “I love you too, Leehan.”

His eyes sparkled with happiness, and before you could say anything else, he closed the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, filled with the sweetness of first love, but as the moments passed, it deepened, filled with all the emotions you had both kept hidden for so long.

When you finally pulled away, Leehan rested his forehead against yours, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You know, I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.”

You laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “I’m glad you finally did.”

He chuckled, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you close. “Get used to it, lifeguard. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

"What do you mean?" He cleared his throat and looked at you.

"Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I got in, to the university."

Leehan laughed as you wrapped your arms around him, your excitement evident as you squeezed him tightly. The bouquet of flowers had tumbled onto the sand, their petals scattered around as you held him close.

“You got in?” You asked, your voice muffled against his chest.

He nodded, a bright smile on his face. “Yep. Me, Jaehyun, Woonhak… all six of us got in. Last month was moving everything and paper work. So, it looks like we’re both headed in the same direction.”

You pulled back slightly to look up at him, your eyes wide with surprise and joy. “You’re really here.”

Leehan’s grin widened as he nodded again. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A wave of happiness washed over you, the feeling of his presence comforting and reassuring. “I’m so glad you’re here, Leehan.”

"And you know why?" You had a feeling of what was about to come. "Because you love me," he said, doing a small dance in front of you. This time, you laughed, your heart jumping in joy.

"Yeah, I do love you, surfer." He kept on dancing, so you took him by the collar of the shirt and kissed him once more.

Leehan’s laughter mingled with the rhythmic sound of the waves, filling the evening air with a playful melody. He stopped dancing when you pulled him closer, your lips meeting his in a kiss that spoke volumes. His lips were warm, and the kiss was both tender and teasing, full of the longing you both had felt over the past month.

As you broke away, he looked at you with a smirk. “You know, I’ve been practicing my dance moves just for this moment.”

You laughed, your eyes sparkling. “And here I thought you were just trying to impress me.”

Leehan’s grin widened, his fingers tracing light patterns on your arm. “Oh, trust me, impressing you is just the beginning. I’ve got a whole repertoire of moves I’ve been saving for our next date.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the thought of future moments with him. Hand in hand, you both walked along the shore, the waves gently lapping at your feet. The night was filled with laughter, flirtatious glances, and the promise of a future together. The summer might be ending, but with Leehan by your side, every moment felt like the beginning of a beautiful adventure.

↷ 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚢'𝚜 note: After contasntly debating into wi¿hich one to put out to the world, here I am giving not only to the network but to the onedoorblr/bndblr my second work! I promise I will post more of my boys, I truly will (and pls the song in the intro has NOTHING to do with it LMAO, I forgot the song I chose before)💗

[ohbabydollie]

omg the schlatt x masc fem s/o headcanons make me go absolutely insane ckksjfksjdkskskksk please please please do more

LMAO i’m glad u liked them

everyone asks you what to get him for his birthday since you know him best and ted took you on a mini shopping spree which you were excited for!!

as soon as you guys were walking through the mall you stopped at a victoria secret, looking at all the lacy panties and bras before picking up a thong

“i think he would like this, it’s not his size though” you say before asking a worker for their biggest size

a bunch of stupid shirts with saying like “i ❤️ getting pegged” “must be on estrogen from the way my rack keeps growing” etc.

the biggest monster dildo you can find at spencer’s with a tube of flavored lube

of course while you got him a few stupid gag gifts you got him shirts and things he would genuinely enjoy

getting mad at him and saying you’ll shove things up his ass and nicknames getting more insulting

“fisting your ass tonight, no prep” “i’ll stick my foot up your ass, bitch” “shut up, that’s why your hole is fucking gaping” “move broad”

schlatt laughs at it sometimes, kissing you on the forehead as you call him a broad and wrapping an arm around your waist

when he asks for your food you feed it to him, airplane and all

if he’s struggling to open a bottle or something and getting frustrated you’ll calmly grab it and open it before handing it to him with a wink and kiss

yk how he was pretending to eat pussy in that one chuckle sandwich vid? you pretend to part open and eat his ass

when you two walk off together you kick his ass and/or the back of his knees because you think it’s funny

yk those videos that are like “when the 5’2 homie finally agrees to cross dressing (he’s definitely getting it tonight)”

yeah you send those to jay all the time and tell him that the height is slowly going up so you’re just waiting until it’s 6’2

along with other memes like that

if anyone tries to defeminize you he’s on their ass IMMEDIATELY!!

“she might as well be your boyfriend with tits and in a dress” some girl says laughing slightly “well she’s my girlfriend with tits and more femininity than you could ever dream of” schlatt says crossing his arms “not ran through either”

doesn’t like it when men flirt with you but finds it funny once you get tired of them talking about fucking you and get started talking about fingering their asshole and they grimace in disgust before he appears

“hey sweetheart” he says wrapping his arm around your shoulders “thanks for keepin’ her fingers warm for me champ” he says to the guy jokingly as you giggle

posting him with songs like eating by CP hollywood & suki

“fuck is this?” he asks showing you your latest instagram story “an appreciation post for you” you say innocently smiling

Silly costumes for bits or for halloween parties!!

schlatt dressed as jessica rabbit n u as roger rabbit!! you as a prim and proper doctor n schlatt as a sexy nurse, complete with the fishnets and fake syringe

u get the silly costumes n he gets the sexy slutty ones

your behavior gets so normalized schlatt doesn’t even bat an eyelash at it anymore

“pegging session tonight?” you ask him, grinning as he rolls his eyes “only if you’re in leather”

groping at his man boobs, ass and thighs

“goo goo ga ga, i want milk” you say groping at his chest as schlatt pushes your face away, annoyed

if he’s ever walking in front of of you, checking out his ass and whistling at him

nsfw!!

drunkenly going up to schlatt at a costume party and saying “you look so pretty in your costume princess, imma eat you out when we get home” before schlatt pulls you into his lap and telling you “we’ll 69 it” as he undoes your tie and you go red in the face

making out with him at a party, parting with your face flushed and a string of saliva connecting the both of you

the first thing you say, looking up at him with hazy eyes, “no homo” schlatt looks at you confused before yelling “ITS NOT FUCKING GAY”

likes watching you walk around in flowy dresses and skirts knowing the second you both are alone he’s gonna be lifting them up and having you sobbing for him

he loves taking you into a bathroom, lifting your skirt snd fucking you into oblivion

“where’s the big strong girl huh? the one that said she was gonna peg me, huh?” he asks with your knees over his forearms (full nelson) and making you look in the mirror, completely weak to his touches and unable to escape

“look at my girl when she’s all cute and submissive” he says grinning and forcing you to look into the mirror

“where’s that bratty mouth you had earlier, hm?” he asks while he has you bent over on a counter as he goes in and out of your cunt, making you tighten up on his length

is mean to you in bed but there are times where he’s soft with you, calling himself lucky for having you, calling you his pretty wife, etc.

aftercare is top tier, will clean you up and get you food or drinks, whatever you want

[adoringsuga]

— ruin our friendship.

⭑ featuring. chigiri hyoma

⭑ content. fem!reader, chigiri gets jelly lol, kissing that gets a little heated so be warned, several isagi mentions (& cameo!) bc i love him, & cursing

⭑ word count. 2.3k

⭑ summary. chigiri hyoma, plain and simple, is your best friend in the whole wide world. your relationship is as uncomplicated as can be; yet, after you ask a presumably innocent question about a friend of his, something comes to light that changes everything...

⭑ notes. omg this is like my first post ever so…hello (≧∀≦)!! this is also like?!??! my first fanfic ever so... lollll... it's honestly so short so i didn't even know what to even write for the summary... anywho! hope u enjoy!! hopefully there will be more to come b/c super obsessed w blue lock rn ngl

“Your hair is so soft,” you murmur mostly to yourself, fingers combing through soft, cherry-red strands, gently untangling any knots you come across with a care reserved solely for the boy currently resting his head in your lap.

Hyoma only hums appreciatively, hyper-focused on the TV in front of you two, sporadically tapping his fingers on your thigh when something of note occurs on the screen. He had turned on some old football game of his when he had invaded your apartment—unannounced, you may add,—around an hour ago. And, before you could utter a single word of complaint about his choice of entertainment, he quickly began haughtily sprouting some bullshit about having to study his old match so he could be aware of what to improve on to better his techniques and what a shame it would be if his team were to lose because someone was to interfere with his review.

Personally, you think he only said that so you wouldn’t change it to this new movie—or, ‘the overly sweet and annoying chick flick’ as Chigiri has lovingly dubbed it—you’ve been dying to watch for weeks now.

Asshole Hyoma, you think a little bitterly, It’s your apartment, you should be able to choose what you can watch or not.

(But, as your eyes flicker to the intense concentration alit on his face, the way he scrutinizes every move, every pass, every shot with an acute focus you find weirdly endearing [and oddly attractive, to your growing horror], you can’t help but think maybe this is fine for now. Maybe.

Maybe football isn’t too bad, you muse, actively ignoring the infinitesimal flush that rises to your cheeks.)

Bored of simply threading your fingers through his strands, you begin to separate his hair into chunks, intertwining the strands once you’ve deemed you’ve parted the hair neatly enough for a loose braid.

You’ve always thought that Hyoma’s hair was inexplicably beautiful, much like the rest of him. Delicate features combined with a lithe yet toned body made him increasingly popular with the female and male demographic of soccer fans (and non-fans as well), especially as his popularity grew and grew with each match he was featured in.

You, simply, admired his beauty for what it was: graceful and elegant, never perceiving him in the lustful light most fans of his had taken to since his debut, (although you would be lying if you said a part of hadn’t slowly begun to see him in a light less than platonic since the start of the year or so).

(These feelings, truthfully, make you want to crawl into a hole and die).

Shaken from your train of thought when a loud cheer erupts from the speakers, your eyes flit up at the TV briefly, blinking in surprise when someone of note catches your eye. You can’t help but gape, fingers stilling from your steadfast braiding as you let out a low whistle, gaze fixed upon the TV.

Even though it makes your heart pang painfully in your chest, you know Hyoma will never see you the way you see him, so, you might as well try and get over him now.

And, without a doubt, you think that the forward on your TV can definitely help with that.

“Whoa,” you mutter, in genuine awe at the gorgeous boy on screen. “Hey, hey, Chigirin,” your words are coupled with a few pokes to his cheek, and he turns his head slightly to look up at you once you’ve finished your ministrations, letting out an inquisitive hum with a raised eyebrow.

“Who’s that?” you question as soon as he peers up at you, pointing at the midnight-haired boy with glimmering deep blue eyes on the TV, eyes gleaming with interest.

“… Why.” Is all he simply says once he sees who it is, voice carefully level and gaze clouded with something you can’t quite place.

“Because he’s cute,” you answer, immediate and truthful, with an almost ariose cadence to your words. You pause for a moment, intently studying the midnight-haired boy, who, at the moment, is currently celebrating a vivacious goal when it all suddenly clicks. “Hey, wait, isn’t that Isagi-san? And aren’t you playing his team next week? Do you think you can get me his number?”

(Embarrassingly, a part you blindly hopes that Hyoma will say say no, so you can overanalyze the meaning behind such an act and further fuel your delusions that Hyoma was definitely into you just as you were to him.

And, hey, who can blame you? Getting over a guy like Hyoma is an agonizing endeavor, so sue you for trying to enjoy your delusions for a bit more before it all comes crashing down and you’re once again stuck in the role of his supportive best friend.

Forced to be something you wished you weren’t. His best friend. Only his best friend.)

Hyoma abruptly sits up from your lap, and you let out a little yelp at the suddenness of it, eyebrows furrowed. His curtain of hair hides his face from your puzzled gaze, and you tilt your head a millimeter to the right, curious.

(The strands of hair you had been braiding loosen at the movement, and eventually unravel unceremoniously after a second passes.

You’re slightly dismayed at the fact.)

Suddenly, a chill runs down your spine, and, for some inane reason, you feel as though you’ve fucked up.

“U-uhm, Chigirin,” you begin awkwardly, suddenly frantic to fill the uneasy, growing hush because truthfully, Hyoma’s unexplainable silence is really starting to weird you out. You’re about to sprout some bullshit about something your statistics professor said the other day, when, all of sudden, you’re on your back, the air knocked out of your lungs and mouth agape in shock.

Pink eyes simply stare down at you, unblinking and almost bored.

“H-Hyoma…?” you manage to stutter out after a long moment, face impossibly red as the boy in question leans over you, the heat of his breath ghosting over your lips. You lay limp, hyper-aware of the fact that even if you did want to move, you wouldn’t be able to as your wrists are being held securely in place by one of Hyoma’s hands. You vaguely wonder if it’s bad that this mere fact gives you butterflies.

(You never use his given name, and Hyoma feels a sick sense of satisfaction curl in his belly at the melodic chime of it.)

You’re warm all over, yet Hyoma seems entirely unphased; even though if he were to only move a mere inch or two, your lips would surely touch.

The thought causes something to thrum in your stomach, makes it tighten in apt anticipation and your breath catch in your throat. I can’t do this, you think, nearly hysteric. It’s all too much, and you turn your face to the side, unable to meet his piercing gaze any longer lest you confess to something you know you’ll regret immediately. Though, with the movement, your gaze somehow catches the TV once more, and there, in all his spectacular glory, is Isagi Yoichi, grinning handsomely with navy blue eyes burning with unabashed determination, calculating and undeniably resolute.

His focused gaze is locked right onto the camera, and his eyes bore intensely into yours as if you’re right there in front of him, as if he could plainly reach out and touch you.

(Oh goodness. Your delusions are growing worse and worse by the day.)

Hyoma growls, seemingly aware of what has currently captured your attention, and purses his lips as though he has just eaten something rotten.

“Don’t look at him.” He demands suddenly, using his thumb and forefinger to gently yet firmly hold your chin, tilting it in a way that ensures your gaze is set on him and only him. “Don’t look at Isagi. Don’t look at anyone else. Look at me.”

“I… what? Hyoma… What do you… ?”

“Can’t you see?” he snaps, almost furious. “I’m in love with you. I have been since I met you. I was fine not saying anything before, but I refuse to lose you to Isagi too.”

Your heart stops. Everything simply stops. Have you been in an accident? And is this simply your unconscious mind attempting to soothe you with what you’ve always dreamed of most? But it can’t be, because you can feel the searing warmth that permeates from his skin, can count every eyelash and every light, scattered freckle, can smell the addicting cologne you mentioned liking to him offhandedly months ago because a guy in your class was wearing it, and so many other things that disproves your accident theory fully.

This is real. This is happening.

Chigiri Hyoma is in love with you?

“You’re in love with me?” you echo in disbelief and rose buds bloom on the crests of Hyoma’s cheeks as he nods adamantly, the hand grasping your chin drifting up to cup your cheek instead.

Somehow, it’s that second, silent confirmation that truly affirms it for you.

Chigiri Hyoma, the perpetual thorn in your side and your best friend in the whole wide world, is in love with you.

Your heart leaps, before it swells. Chigiri Hyoma is in love with you, and he says it as though it is an undeniable fact.

Chigiri Hyoma is in love with you. He’s in love with you.

You feel dizzy at the news, everything fuzzy and muddled except for Hyoma himself, who looks to be growing increasingly nervous and tense with each passing second of silence from yourself.

I should probably say something, you think in a haze.

But, you can’t think of anything that could adequately describe the emotions you’re feeling at the moment, so you simply lift your head and softly graze your lips with his, taking in shocked, pink eyes before crashing your lips together fully. Hyoma makes a small noise of surprise, before melting into it, letting go of your wrists and instead taking your face tenderly with calloused hands, rough against petal-soft skin.

He’s practically on top of you now, but you can’t find it in yourself to care- using your newly freed hands to run your fingers through his hair, to grasp at his face, his waist, and anywhere else you can reach.

It’s not the best kiss, per se- your teeth knock together more than once in a way that causes a dull ache, and mortifying sounds keep escaping your mouth at the most inopportune moments, but God, you don’t think you’ll ever get a kiss like this again.

Regrettably, you pull away after a few more glorious moments, Hyoma chasing after your lips before settling to simply press chaste kisses at the corners of your mouth instead. He trails down after a moment, beginning to nip lightly at the soft skin of your neck, insistent yet gentle as his teeth graze your pulse ever so slightly. You whine at the feeling, almost panting as you weakly push his head away as warmth blossoms under your ribs, settling in your stomach and wisping through your limbs in a hum.

He nips once, twice, before lifting his head, albeit begrudgingly, finally allowing you the chance to suck in a breath of sweet oxygen through parted lips.

As you catch your breath, you hazily gaze up at a red-faced Hyoma, his lips rosy and swollen from pressure and eyes blown and glassy. Embarrassingly, the sight causes your chest to clench with something akin to desire, and you nibble at your kiss-bitten lips in an attempt to keep those feelings at bay, if for the time being.

A beat passes.

“I love you too,” you admit airly as soon as the heat in your cheeks and the rapid beating of your heart calms down to a somewhat manageable level, and Hyoma simply laughs, eyes glimmering with adoration.

“I think I garnered that,” he grins, before capturing your lips once more, cradling your face as though you’re the most important thing to him in the entire world.

(“Hey. Isagi.” Yoichi turns at the call of his name, perking up slightly at the sight of familiar cherry-red hair tied loosely in a bun and long lashes. Putting down the small trinket he had been toying with, he opens his mouth, eager to greet Chigiri back when the other is suddenly right in front of him. Yoichi blinks, grinning openly before Chigiri abruptly takes and wrenches a large chunk of his hair harshly between thin fingers.

“Ow!” he hisses immediately, scalp throbbing hotly and already aching like a motherfucker. He’s surely going to have a headache later, and that realization, alongside the whole, you know, hair-yanking thing, puts a damper on his mood. “What was that for?” he exclaims, incredulous, angrily rubbing at the spot Chigiri had pulled with an ire Yoichi prays he’ll never experience again.

“For my girlfriend,” Chigiri states matter-of-factly, patting Yoichi on the head lightly and demeaningly as though he didn’t just violently violate his poor scalp. He gives no time for the older to respond, already swiftly turning from Yoichi and beginning to walk away, but not before brazenly declaring, “Oh. And we’re beating you too, so be ready for that.”

“Girlfriend? What the hell did I do to your girlfriend?” Yoichi sputters, blatantly ignoring Chigiri’s last statement and decidedly shelving it for a later discussion because what the fuck? What did he do to deserve to have his hair pulled again?

[What is with him and getting his hair pulled, genuinely? Do people just see him and instantly think, ‘Oh yes, he looks like he likes to get his hair pulled’?

For the record, he does not. He really does not, from the bottom of his heart.]

Chigiri simply laughs, the honeyed glow of the sun catching in his hair and making it burn a fiery red, and Isagi can only watch the other boy strolls away, left cluelessly standing with a stinging scalp and widened eyes.

“... Wait. Chigiri-san has a girlfriend?”)

[sentientsky]

thank you so much, @fearandhatred for tagging me! <3

For as many as you want of your published works, pick your favourite line/paragraph and post it up here. Let yourself feel proud of your creations (not always proud of my work, but gritting my teeth and adding these 'cause my therapist would want me to, lol)

Until the Bitter End [40,760 words] Context: Crowley comes face-to-face with God

Dreadful memories of falling from a great height flashed through his mind. The taste of sulphur coated the back of his teeth, noxious and terrible. “You let me fall. You pushed me—for asking questions ,” he had hissed, all venom, all jagged teeth. So many eons of abandonment, of sheer loss…Well, it does something to a not-person, to a beating, not-human heart. You learn to go cold, to slow your breathing and keep yourself boarded up and hidden. Your body learns to react to affection like a rejected organ transplant. You carry on through life scared and spitting and backing against the wall like a cornered animal. You believe you don’t deserve tenderness. You believe it will ruin you. Because to love, to let yourself be loved, is to turn all vulnerable and underbellied—to show your hand in a game of cards with everything on the table. And yet…a very young, hands-shaking part of you yearns for it—begs, desperate and hungry and aching, for love. Like a starved dog with all its ribs showing. Like Sisyphus pushing that damn rock, knowing full well which way the hill slopes.

Confession Box Revelations [2,406 words]

Though Crowley himself couldn’t sense love, he knew what he felt for Aziraphale was far larger than anything a human was capable of experiencing. It was cosmic; it was ever-expanding, touching every corner of the universe and saturating every last quark in all of reality. The first time he’d become aware of it, it had hit him like a freight train and left him reeling. Even now, he heard a whistle in the back of his mind. It had never left.

Innocence Died Screaming [2,341 words] Context: Crowley encounters the Starmaker

Crowley doesn’t really think about it. In some inherent, axiomatic desperation for what-could-have-been, what-should-have-been, he strides forward (as much as anyone can stride in the vacuum of space) and pulls his younger self into an embrace. The angel’s hands grip the back of his blazer, fingers trembling, the scroll long since forgotten.  “I know, I know. And I’m sorry.” I wish I could save you . And he means it. His chest aches with it. “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. I’m so sorry for what She did—what She will do—to you. To me,” he draws in a shaky breath. “To us .”  And so they stand, shimmering, in that impossible place—the place where centuries compress themselves into the vibrations between atoms and fracture like glass, where millennia tilt sideways, fall into slipstream and dissolve into empty air. The world rips into being, collapses, and begins again a hundred thousand times in the hollow of his chest. He lets the tears—angry and hot and eons-old—fall with abandon, and a quiet, ragged part of him begins to slowly knit itself back together.

no pressure tags: @actual-changeling (ik leanne tagged u already, but i'm doing it too bc i enjoy yelling in your notifs hehe). @foolishlovers

[yourmostdevoted]

🔞🔞🔞

the merciless/sfh crossover w/ hyunsoo/moonjo moonjo becoming a doctor/dentist at the prison hyunsoo's at, could work post-canon or while undercover imo.

most of the prisoners are hollering & whistling one day, something that doesn't happen that often, only when someone very pretty and/or very dangerous is in the vicinity.

hyunsoo pushes through the bodies to the fence and sees & a very pretty man, one he knows would be pounced upon instantly from almost anyone here, whether it be for violent or sexual matters, tho the man's pretty enough to make anyone second guess.

hyunsoo Thought he was straight up until this moment, now he's not so sure. such a pretty boy won't make it here, he'll be ruined is the general consensus among everyone, prisoners & workers alike. hyunsoo is there the first time someone tries something.

protective!hyunsoo to the rescue, violent and polite to mj's curiosity. he sees the fun, the honest delight hyunsoo takes in it, but yet is still showing a care for someone who's, as far as he knows, is an innocent stranger. mj's intrigued.

slow, oblivious flirting on hyunsoo's part. doesn't quite realize it at first, neither does mj as he's an innocent virgin in romantic & sexual. he understands in theory but not in practice. virgin's always a given for me but i need to make sure everyone knows :P

maybe hyunsoo presents him with the teeth he knocks out from others to see what his reaction'll be. he's not a sadistic guy but entertainment is hard to come by in a place like this. he doesn't expect the dr to shakily reach out & cup the tooth in his palms.

teeth gifting idea came from this fic & hasn't left me since https://archiveofourown.org/works/39489990 i'm aware it's probably not a unique idea to this fandom but as it's the first place i read w/ it, i'd like to give credit to it.

thus starts their mating dance. some other interesting ideas: hyunsoo grabs mj by the neck & kisses him in front of ppl to make his claim on mj. i want mj to be an obvious person u don't fuck w/ but also want everyone to be obliviously charmed by him.

albeit post canon for hyunsoo is unlikely as he did frame the murder on someone else so not too much of a desire to go to jail again,,, but the idea of post canon hyunsoo going to eden & killing everyone but mj? 💦💦💦

[caandlelit]

what happened to the lawnchair bestie

university happened. 14 yr old caandlelit is beyond outraged that i typed that sentence i wish i had his fervor for writing or at the very least his time. i want time so badly i have NO FREE TIME!!!!! i was in a lecture and the guy was like can any of u literal bastards tell me what the most precious thing is on earth and i said time and he turns around like WHO SAID THAT! and i literally looked at the ceiling like a cartoon whistling innocently except i cant whistle bc i didnt want to be wrong and then the other teacher said hey u said something tell him. and i said time and he pointed at me with his spindly artist finger and said Precisely. Time. we dont have it. and i was like this is so relevant to my life and lawnchair .

thankyou for thinking of it. honestly like. thankyou. im also thinking of it CONSTANTLY i cant even tell u. im planning now on finishing it and then posting it when its all done (winter is when ill be done i theorize bc uni) although if im done with this current important chapter within a week ill post that and Then wait till its all done. bc i was never Finished with it i shldnt have started posting b4 being done. i hadnt even finished plotting like. but i really wanted to share it and im glad i did bc you guys liked it and im just happy to have spread something good. i love u i hope ur having a brilliant day

[toytulini]

Hey Do.n*t r.eb.log this, please

Just saw that "this sounds s/uspi/ciously a/ph/ob/ic or possibly t/e/rfy" post reblogged uncritically on my dash, i really keep fallin for yall n ur "we're done being ap/ho/bic now in 2020 we promise!" shit don't I? I keep thinking for some reason we might actually be fucking done

[devilyn]

moon without the stars | tsukishima kei

— alexa, play: moon without the stars by jerry barnes quiana

I can only hope you remember all the simple things

Like what's a heartbeat

without heartache

What's a hurricane

without the rain 

What's the moon without the stars

That's how it feels when we're apart

— synopsis: your absence teaches him how to learn to live without you, keeping pieces of you even while you’re gone.

— genre: angst, happy endings, hurt/comfort, tsukishima kei being somewhat emotionally competent for once

— word count: 2k

Tsukishima Kei wondered how he lived before you. He’d spent the past three days trying to figure that out. He slept in your shared bed and closed his eyes, trying to pretend like the cold wasn’t clawing its way into his chest--a cold you could easily chase away by simply wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling your way into his arms.

And even if he teased you for being needy, he’d wrap his long arms around you and hug you even closer to him to keep your warmth close--fully chasing that cold ache in his chest away.

But now he was stuck living with the cold. No many how many layers he put on, or how many blankets he tried to stack on top of his tall form, the ache wouldn’t dissipate. 

It was strange. He didn’t remember feeling this cold even when you pulled him out into the rain, laughing about how everyone needed to dance in the rain once. Even though he whined about how he couldn’t see because his glasses were completely soaked, you pulled him into your local playground and forced him to twirl you around, a bright smile on your pretty lips. The rain was cold, for sure. You actually caught a cold the next day. But he distinctly remembered how warm his heart felt when you leaned up and kissed him, the rain pattering down harshly against his skin even as you slid your warm hands over his flushed cheeks.

He had to nurse you back to health the next day, but he couldn’t help but smile at how happy you sounded when you recounted the experience back to him through coughs and sneezes.

“I think...we need to take a break.”

He wasn’t quite sure what prompted your decision. To him, everything seemed fine.

“Why?”

He didn’t even know why he asked. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to hear the reason, but you answered nonetheless. Because that’s just who you were.

“I’m scared of how much I love you.”

It wasn’t an answer he was expecting. He wasn’t sure how he even reacted then, but he remembered how his brows furrowed at the way the tears started to drip down your cheeks.

“I don’t know what to do if I can’t live without you.”

You had cried, even though you were the one leaving him. Because you loved him.

“What a selfish reason,” he had thought at the time. “What about me?”

But instead of telling you that, Tsukishima stiffly nodded his head. Because he knew that even if he wanted to keep you by his side, he would rather die than make you unhappy. It was a strange feeling for him, putting someone else’s feelings over his own.

“I’m sorry. I just...need some time. I’ll be back in a week.”

A week, you had said.

He wasn’t sure he could last that long. The only reason he was still alive was because you had sent him a simple text asking if he had eaten, and he had replied with a curt ‘yes’.

What really broke his heart was the text that followed.

“i miss u.”

He didn’t reply. If he did, he’d expose way too much about how he wished that whatever you were spending time contemplating could’ve been done by his side. Even though he knew that your love for him was the main reason why you were staying away.

He had to admit, he was just as scared as you were of the love between you. But he didn’t expect that his loving partner would be the one to run away first while he was trying to cling on. Maybe it’s because that’s just how hard you loved. You fell ten times faster than he did. If he was scared, then you must be terrified.

It didn’t stop him from wishing you’d trust him enough to catch you each time you fell deeper and deeper for him though. 

In fact, he’s sure he’s never smiled this much in his life since he was a child. Even his mother said you were changing him, so what was he supposed to do when his reason to smile was suddenly ripped away?

Tsukishima spent his days monotonously. Breakfast alone. Classes. Lunch alone Homework alone. Practice that could distract him from the thought of you. Dinner alone. Then, he’d try and sleep.

The only thing keeping him alive was the simple “i miss u” text that he kept glancing at even though you sent it nearly two days ago now. That, and the pictures you had forced him to take on his phone that he was now constantly scrolling through. 

Some of them were foolish, like that one blurry photo of you trying to take a selfie with his phone while he was washing the dishes, but he had slapped his sud-covered palm over his phone camera to prevent you from doing so. It reminded him of what happened after, when he ended up wrapping his arms around your waist, playfully slipping his soapy hands up your shirt and drawing his favorite laugh from your lips.

Others were ones you had posted on your social media that made him smile. Like the one of you pulling him down to press a proud kiss to his cheek after he won one of his many volleyball competitions in high school. Tsukishima had a completely flustered look on his face at the public display of affection that occurred in one of your first years of dating. Though he was embarrassed at the time, it was now a memory he looked back fondly on, because afterwards, he had pulled your chin up towards him so he could press his lips to yours and embarrass you just as much. It failed though, because his teammates whistled and cheered him on, and he ended up just as red as you.

Some were even just of you sleeping or doing mundane tasks that he couldn’t help but snap photos of, because it all felt so domestic, and he had a spark of hope that he’d be able to spend the rest of his life admiring those sights first hand.

When he looked at those photos, the pain in his chest faded bit by bit, and he’d be able to finally close his eyes and sleep.

His monotonous routine repeated until the final day of the week. You had promised to come back tomorrow. Tsukishima unlocked his phone, golden brown eyes gazing up at the way you sleepily looked into his camera while you brushed your teeth. His heart warmed at the thought of being able to fall asleep with you tomorrow night.

He slept peacefully that night, the memory of your bright smile lighting up that one rainy night chasing the ache in his chest away.

Now, he was anxiously pacing back and forth by the front door. Would it seem desperate to answer the door right away? Should he pretend to be doing something else? Would it be better to pretend like he didn’t miss you as much as he did?

The doorbell rang, and Tsukishima ripped the front door open without hesitation with wide eyes.

You stood there, with surprise in your eyes and your finger still hovering over the doorbell.

“...I’m home, Kei.”

Then, you smiled. And Tsukishima Kei thought he may cry right then and there. He blinked a few times to make sure you were real before releasing a shaky sigh and averting his gaze.

You were so radiant, so bright, he wasn’t sure he could even look at you directly.

“...welcome home,” he responded shakily, finally tossing his arms around you and pulling your face into his chest.

You laughed, the sound wet as your tears stained his sweater. Your bags sat by the front door--the same ones you had packed to leave just a week ago. But this time, you were coming home.

Your arms tightened around your boyfriend’s waist as he buried his face into your hair, inhaling your familiar scent and finally relaxing for the first time in seven days.

“What did you think about while you were gone?” he asked later that night, running his fingers through your hair as the two of you laid in bed together.

“You’re strangely curious, aren’t you?” you teased, purring happily at his touch. He rolled his eyes and shot you a glare, to which you laughed.

“...just wanted to know if I could live without you.”

Tsukishima raised a brow in confusion, staring down at you.

“...you tortured me for an entire week because you wanted to see if you could live without me?”

“Was it really torture?” you asked innocently, clearly unaware of the pain he went through just because you had left his side, and he knew he couldn’t just reach out and bring you back.

Still, the man had his pride, and he cursed at the fact that he had misspoken. Your eyes were shimmering mischievously.

“Wow, I didn’t know Tsukishima Kei loved me that much,” you teased and he scoffed, opting to ignore you instead of giving in. Knowing you wouldn’t win, you leaned up to press a soft kiss to his chin and silently surrendered.

“I told you. I was scared of how much I loved you,” you murmured against his skin as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. “So I left for a bit. What would life be like if I couldn’t love you anymore? What would I do if you decided you didn’t want me by your side anymore?”

“Do you think so little of me?” your boyfriend asked bitterly, and you quickly shook your head.

“I know you love me, Kei--”

“So then you just selfishly left? Without thinking of how I felt?”

You lifted your head to meet his angry gaze, hands coming up to gently cup his cheeks.

“Didn’t you learn something too?”

He furrowed his brows, the scowl never leaving his lips.

“What?” he practically spat out, and you merely giggled at his anger, only infuriating him further.

“Y/N, listen to me--”

“Didn’t you sleep fine last night?”

He blinked, tension disappearing from his brows and the anger in his eyes quickly replaced with confusion.

How the hell did you know that?

“Because I did,” you tilted your head up to brush your nose over his in an eskimo kiss. Your eyes fluttered closed, but his gaze never left you, as if worried you would disappear from underneath him. “I slept great. Because I remembered that one time I made us dance in the rain, and you had to take care of me the next day because I got sick like you told me I would.”

His heart quivered in his chest as you laughed.

“I learned something, Kei,” you whispered, eyes opening to meet his still puzzled gaze. “Even if I have to be apart from you. Even if I have to leave you, or if you have to leave me, I’ll never let go of you.”

His expression softened as you smiled brightly. 

“I’ll always love you, you know that? Because that memory, and many others, will always be with me, even if we’re apart,” you mused, thumbs running over his cheeks as he let out a weak laugh.

“...you’re crazy,” he finally said, and you gasped in feigned offense.

“Kei, you’re mean!”

“No, I’m honest,” he stated plainly before breaking into a small smile. The sight of your boyfriend’s rare smile naturally drew a bright one from you, and he leaned down to press his lips gently against your own.

“I’m never leaving you, though,” he finally murmured against your lips as he pulled back, and he could feel you smile against him.

“I know,” you whispered, tilting your head up to kiss him again. 

And even though you didn’t say it, he knew you wouldn’t leave him either. Not again, or by choice. But now he knew that if you did, you’d always be with him.

The memory of your smile, your laughter, your radiance, your crazy antics, he’d never be able to forget them. And while he half hated you for becoming such a large part of him, he knew that even if he had the choice, he’d never let them go.

Because he loves you. And he loves the you that loves him, even if it’s terrifying.

[nagipops]

going thru some aiku brainrot so please spare some best friends-to-lovers with aiku for me please thank u (love ur works mwah mwah)

FIREWORKS

FEATURING: oliver aiku!

SUMMARY: in which fireworks spark between you and your admirably competitive best friend during a vibrant festival.

WARNINGS: food cw

A/N: loving all the aiku simps in my inbox 😏😏 i would love to write this! thank you so much anon lemme feed your brainrot mwah

“What are you doing?” you laughed, pushing your best friend aside lightheartedly.

Oliver continued to sling an arm around your shoulders, a sly smirk spreading across his features as he looked down at you. “What? I need to keep you safe around here. The city’s dangerous.”

Rolling your eyes, you ‘begrudgingly’ allowed him to continue his display of affection as the two of you strolled side by side down the city streets.

“Look over there!” You pointed at a festive square donned in colorful streamers and eye catching decorations. “Let’s check it out!” You slipped out of his hold, catching his hand with your fingers and dragging him over to the vibrant festivities.

The delectable aroma of fried foods and sweet treats wafted through the air as the sounds of children giggling and cheering flowed through your ears.

“Hey, want me to crush you in those games over there?” Oliver teased, jostling you with his shoulder while jutting his chin out to a shooting gallery booth.

A competitive fire lighting inside of you, you flashed him a determined smirk. “Oh, you’re on.”

Well, turns out that competitive fire was immediately squashed under Oliver’s nimble thumb.

“How was I supposed to score anything if you were shooting all of the damn rubber ducks before I could even aim?!”

Your best friend’s clear laughter rung warmly across the town square as he raised the giant stuffed bear in his arms at eye level. “Talk to the bear, not me.”

“Hi bear, your owner’s a little cheater!” you teased, poking the bear’s circular button nose before poking Oliver’s in turn. “Let’s go play a game that I can beat you at fair and square.”

He raised his eyebrows in interest, a playful smirk tugging at the side of his stubbled chin. “You sure about that?”

“Positive.”

Turns out you weren’t so positive, because now Oliver had to carry around two giant stuffed bears, and he made it clear that he was having a hard time with them.

“Ahh, (Y/N), be a dear and help me out here? These— my winnings are just too heavy.”

You shot him a dirty look at the way he had easily hoisted one onto each of his large shoulders. “Suuure they are.” Grabbing the fluffy bear closest to you, you wound its fuzzy legs around your neck so that it was riding on your own shoulders before perking up at the delicious scent of greasy fried food. “Oliver, all this losing is making me hungry. Wanna go grab something to eat?”

A low chuckle escaped his lips. “Sure. I’m not that hungry though, from all that winning.”

Playfully rolling your eyes, you held the bear riding on your shoulders steady as you grabbed his hand and dragged him away, following the delectable aroma of fried snacks.

The two of you darted across the various stalls, sampling little treats here and there, from dango to takoyaki to yakiimo, while Oliver footed the bill every single time.

“Oliver—”

“Shh, I got it.” He placed a firm hand on your forearm while flipping his wallet closed with the other, shooting you a cocky grin. “It’s my repayment for creaming you in those games back there.

You laughed softly, blushing madly as your best friend threaded his large fingers through yours before you ventured off to the next stall.

Sticky. Your hands, your lips, your arms.

“It’s melting everywhere!” You whined as the ice cream cone in your hand dribbled down your forearm and onto your thighs.

Grabbing your shoulder that he was wrapping his arm around to pull you close as the two of you sat on a bench overlooking the festival, Oliver used his free hand to produce a napkin to wipe your lap clean. “Jeez, you’re such a child,” he teased, shaking his head with a grin.

You felt your cheeks heat up at the sudden close contact but forced your body to remain still. Maybe a little too still.

“Oh, sorry, did you want to do it yourself?” He immediately stopped with his concerned face just inches away from yours.

Dumbfounded, you simply shook your head, avoiding his gaze. “Ah, no… it’s okay…”

Just then, an earsplitting crack rang through the air as a brilliant array of color glittered across the midnight sky. Both of your heads snapped to the source to find spears of fireworks hurtling through the air in a cacophony of booms and pops. The two of you marveled at the sight, watching rocket after rocket pierce through the air and explode in a vibrant blossom of endless hues.

You turned to face your best friend. His half-purple, half-green eyes reflected the shower of colors bursting through the starless night like crystal clear pools of water, illuminating his typical cocky demeanor in an innocent, childlike glow. The ceaseless cracks and whistles from the festival beckoned you to revert your attention to them, but it was impossible to tear your eyes away from his face, his eyes, his… lips.

And then Oliver’s eyes slid over to meet yours and it felt like you were floating, like the air had been vacuumed out of your lungs.

“What?”

That damn smirk again.

His face broke out into a laugh. “What is it?”

You found yourself returning his smile.

His arm was still around your shoulders. He pulled you closer, eyes fixed onto you intently.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

His eyes flitted down to your lips. Oh god, was he—

“You have something there.”

Your hands instinctively clapped over your mouth and your cheeks felt so hot you thought you could die. “Oh my god, Oliver—”

But he only laughed again, peeling your fingers away from your lips and leaning in close. “Let me take care of that for you.”

Your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest. You could hear your pulse drumming in your ears. This was it. This was really going to happen.

And right on time with the grand finale of the fireworks, Oliver stole your lips with his own and kissed you fervently.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[boygirlmeetsworld]

Messy.

ONE-SHOT

Word count: 2793

Disclaimer:  One piece and all it’s characters belong to Eiichiro Oda, I just like to write about them.

Warning: None

Rating: T (i guess?? there’s cursing)

Author’s Note: Whale, this is the first fanfic I’ve posted on the interwebs since high school so please keep that in mind, lol. I do plan to finish it sooner than later so check back in a few days if you want to read the rest, sorry I don’t have it all done right now.  At long last it it FINISHED.

Feel free to tell me what u think! Unless it’s mean, then I ask that u keep those thoughts in ur noggin because I’m just writing these for fun not for grades.

Without further ado, here ya go.

Author’s Note pt 2: So i didn’t end up going the smut route like I originally planned, but I think it worked out better bc this one got nice and Emotional.

Summary: Zoro really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

__________________________________________

The moon was floating high in the night sky when Nami wandered onto the deck, unable to sleep even after a few hours of sketching. 

She wanted company – specifically, she wanted the company of the crew’s resident alcoholic. It only took a few minutes to find him on the lawn deck with his back against a tree and his eye closed. ‘How typical.’

Nami smiled a small, excited smile as she strode over to him and squatted between his parted legs. An unconscious sigh left her nose as she swept her gaze up and down his face. She caught herself thinking, ‘He really is easy on the eyes isn’t he.’ ....again. 

Who was she kidding? She’d been thinking the same thing every time she looked his way lately. 

Two years ago she’d been able to keep the immature crush she had on him locked tightly away but somehow - it had gotten out and was slowly consuming her entire being. 

Nami hoped he hadn’t noticed how often she invited him to drink with her because she didn’t think she could handle being rejected. So she settled for spending time alone with him whenever and however she could. 

“Hey, moss-head,” the navigator said finally, leaning in to squint at him, “Are you asleep?”

He had literally just settled down for a nice cat nap when the navigator appeared suddenly to interrupt him. ‘Damn. What the hell did she want now?’ 

Instead of answering, Zoro chose to ignore her and pretend like he was deep asleep. ‘Why won’t she go bother someone else?’

Nami started prodding his cheek with one finger to rouse him if he really was sleeping, ”Zorooo wake up, I wanna drink,” she whined and his eyelid opened instantly.

‘Why’s she so damn pretty..’ was the first thought he had when he realized that she was a lot closer than he’d anticipated. 

He mentally chastised himself after, trying to remind his id that Nami had never once indicated that she wanted to be anything other than friends and he should respect that. 

But… There was no harm in looking from time to time was there? And she was pretty. She’d always been... ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, now he sounded like Sanji. He needed to get a grip.’

“Helloooooo,” Nami waved her hand in Zoro’s face until he snapped back to reality and snatched her wrist up, pulling it away. He scowled but it wasn’t deep, and now he was refusing to look her in the eye. “What was that about, huh Zoro?”

“Nothing.” The swordsman replied perhaps a little too quickly to avoid suspicion, “Thought I heard a noise, doesn’t matter – oi, didn’t you want to do something?” 

He couldn’t remember what exactly it was. He’d been so distracted by the way her bangs framed her face and sometimes got caught in her eyelashes—’Damnit! He was doing it again.’

Nami smirked again but didn’t press the subject anymore. She’d do that later once they started drinking. “Weren’t you listening to me? You’re so rude, maybe I should find someone else to share my booze with.”

Was it a good idea to go drink with Nami when he kept catching himself thinking about feelings that he’d been suppressing for the last two years? Probably not…

But he couldn’t just decline an opportunity to get buzzed. ‘And... Maybe he wanted to get buzzed with Nami, specifically.’  

Zoro scoffed, mostly at himself. “Quit playing games, damnit, do you want me to drink with you or not?”

“You’re so stubborn,” The navigator teased with a pleased smile that made his heart beat unevenly, “I could care less if you join me, but you’re not allowed to come unless you say you’ll be nice.”

“Nami. I am older than you, quit treating me like a fucking child or I swear-”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady who’s getting you drunk for free, Roronoa Zoro. If you can’t be nice then I’ll just add the cost of everything you drink to your debt and-”

Zoro didn’t have time to ruminate over the way hearing her say his full name made him shiver because he had to shut her up before she did charge him. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll be... nice.” He hissed through gritted teeth and her answering giggle made his pulse flutter. He had to fight to keep himself from smiling. ‘What the hell was going on with him tonight? Was he sick?’

“Good boy,” she turned and started walking towards the Sunny’s aquarium bar, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he was coming.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Zoro snarled to mask his confusion over the sudden need to touch her that he felt scratching at the back of his head. He really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

He knew it, but he followed her up the stairs all the same.

                                                       * * *

“Why d’you always want to drink with me anyway, witch?” Skeptical of her intentions, his narrowed eye fixed itself on Nami as she approached him holding two maroon tinted bottles. She offered one to him and he accepted it – but he didn’t let his guard down yet.

Zoro lowered his gaze to check the label out, whistling long and low when he read 23% alcohol per volume. A couple puzzle pieces clicked together in his head ‘Oh, that’s why. Because if she tried to drink this with anyone else they’d pass out after two glasses.’

“Would you believe that I just like hanging out with you?” Though her tone was teasing she was actually being genuine, she had a lot of fun with him whenever they went out.

“No–“ He paused when Nami kicked him in the shin hard enough to make him swear. Reaching down with his free hand he rubbed the sore patch of skin and glared daggers at his crewmate. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“You said you’d be nice, Zoro! So be nice or I’ll charge you a hundred thousand beris for that bottle.” Nami uncorked hers but waited to hand the corkscrew over until he behaved himself. The look he was giving her would probably frighten a small child but she didn’t flinch.

‘This was his choice.’ He reminded himself. Of his own free will he chose to get drunk with Nami instead of napping, and that meant dealing with her bossiness no matter how much he loathed it. ‘Sometimes he just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and make her shut up, there were better things her mouth could be doing anyway-‘

“Why do you keep staring at me like that, do I have a zit or something?”

Zoro sat up so fast that he banged his shoulder on the underside of the countertop. ‘What the hell was that? What the hell was wrong with him?’ He hadn’t even opened the damn bottle and he was already making himself look like an idiot.

“No,” the swordsman grumbled, wracking his brain for a believable excuse, “Just thinking about how I’ll owe you money even after I’m dead if you keep charging me for bullshit.” That made her laugh and Zoro cursed himself for how much he liked hearing it. “Don’t see how it’s funny for me, witch.”

Nami let him take the corkscrew from her, eyes crinkled with amusement while he opened his bottle. “You’ll just have to stay alive until you pay me back in full, I guess!” She trilled before taking a long, heavy drink from hers.

“Yeah?” Zoro snorted before mimicking her and downing about half of the wine in the container. It tasted disgusting, which he’d expected, but that didn’t make the bitter aftertaste any less miserable. His nose wrinkled slightly as he set the bottle down. “I bet even if I did try to pay you off you’d find a way to charge me more.”

“You make me sound so heartless,” the navigator batted her eyelashes innocently, pretending to look hurt, “Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Hah.” He scoffed before chugging some more wine and failing to keep track of how much he was drinking each time. “Because you want to keep me on a leash since I don’t throw myself at you like that dumbass cook.”

An impish smirk crawled it’s way onto Nami’s face that made him immediately regret what he’d just said. ‘Fuck. Damnit!’

“So…” She began slowly, savoring every second that the swordsman spent avoiding direct eye contact with her, “You admit that you are one of my lap dogs?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed and he stopped drinking for one second to grunt, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard!” Chimed Nami as she rose from her seat, stepping over to Zoro and tracing a finger under his jaw while he drained the last few drops of liquid. “I should get you a collar, so people know who to bring you to when you get lost.”

Normally he would have snapped at her for poking fun at his sense, or lack thereof, direction but he wasn’t listening to her. She’d come close enough for him to pick up her scent and maybe it was the alcohol intensifying his feelings, but it was suffocating him in a good way.

He loved the way she smelled. Tangerines from her soaps mixed with salty seawater and traces of sunscreen. A hint of orange blossom, but only when she was close to him like this. 

Zoro inhaled deeply through his nose and, without realizing it, his expression melted into something affectionate and gentle. ‘In two years she’d changed in so many different ways… but she still smelled the same. She still smelled like home.’

                                                        * * *

“What are you thinking about, Zoro?” Her voice void of it’s usual teasing tone, Nami’s curiosity was piqued by his sudden shift in demeanor. He looked soft and peaceful, like he didn’t have anything to worry about. She wanted to know why.

‘Ah, fuck.’ What was he supposed to tell her? That he was thinking about how good she smelled? ‘Yeah right.’ Zoro was quiet for a while, mulling over his words until he came up with an explanation that didn’t sound as creepy – but also wasn’t a lie.

“I guess..” he finally murmured, his gaze shifting to meet hers, “It’s just been a while and… I was thinking about how nice it feels to be back here, with everyone…” a brief pause then he added, “I missed you guys.” ‘Look at him being all gushy and emotional, this wine really was something else.’ Zoro reached to brush his fingertips by her temple, catching a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear, “I missed you.”

When had Zoro ever been this honest with her about the way he felt? Never was the answer, but now he seemed to trust her well enough to know she wouldn’t spill his secrets. Nami took his face in both of her hands, surprising him, and pulled his head down so she could kiss his forehead. “I missed you too, Zoro.”

Something about hearing her say that she’d missed him too broke a dam in his chest that he’d been trying to keep together for two years. Hormoness flooded through his bloodstream quicker than Zoro could even process them and before he knew it he was practically throwing his arms around Nami’s waist and crushing her against his chest.

“Nami—” he pressed his face into her neck to hide the tears that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Sober he might have cared about losing it like this around her but she was here and… ‘He just – needed to hold her.’ Hold her and smell her and feel how real she was because she had almost been taken from him.

‘He’d barely begun to process what he had been through on Thriller Bark when they were attacked in Sabaody. If he tried to think back on it his memories would get hazy and his bones would ache from their very cores. He knew what had happened but it’s like his brain was protecting him from understanding how close to death he’d come. Then – to be torn away from the people he loved with all of his heart? Who he had just nearly killed himself to protect?

It had ripped him apart and rubbed salt into every wound. And it fucking hurt. The same kind of pain he felt when he saw Kuina dead on the floor of their dojo. He was scared, he was furious, he was devastated – all over again but this time it was so much worse. So, so much worse.

That was why he had trained so hard over the last two years. Because he couldn’t bear the grief that came with loving them so deeply – so he got stronger. And stronger. And stronger. No matter the cost to his body, he would become powerful enough to defeat anyone who crossed them. Then… He would never have to feel the agony that he did when he first woke up on Kuraigana Island ever again.

Taking on all of Luffy’s suffering in Thriller Bark had been the most physically painful experience of his entire life – but that was nothing compared to how much it hurt to think that his friends were gone forever, that he hadn’t been able to protect them.

Training made it easy not to think about what had happened -- but now he was home, and they were safe - and he was realizing just how close he’d come to losing all of them. At once. And he could do nothing to stop it.’

Startled by him grabbing her, Nami was prepared to give the pirate a good smack if he was getting handsy but… He started trembling. ‘Was he not feeling well?’ Her mouth opened to form the question then stopped. His breathing hitched while his entire body jerked and she realized…

‘Zoro was crying.’

Roronoa Zoro, who prided himself on his strength, was sobbing wretchedly into her neck. ‘He must have been holding this in since Sabaody.’ Nami’s heart ached for him and his stupid pride that forced him to torture himself instead of letting him cry like he needed to. She’d been expecting him to crash at some point, how couldn’t he? Even someone as strong as Zoro was still a human being.

One of her arms cradled his head while the other wound round his shoulders, her fingers combing gently through his hair. “Oh you sweet, sweet boy…” she spoke in the tone that Bellemere used to use when Nami and Nojiko were frightened by a passing thunderstorm. It always calmed her, maybe it would calm Zoro, too.

‘Quit fucking crying you loser you’re supposed to be a man.’ But he couldn’t, he literally could not stop because he was trying to. “I wasn’t strong enough,” his voice quivered at the edges and he hated it. ‘He was definitely never going to drink this kind of wine again ever. Not if it turned him into a blubbering mess like this every time.’

“Shhh, no. No. Don’t you dare try to blame yourself for what happened. Hey, look at me.” Nami urged his head off her shoulder and cupped his face in both of her palms, “None of us were strong enough, okay? Not even Luffy.” Each tear that fell she tenderly swept away with the pad of her thumb. The corner of her mouth turned up as she assured him, “But we are strong enough now. We can take care of each other. Nothing is ever going to tear us apart again, Zoro.”

‘She was right. Of course, she was right. He needed to have faith in his crewmates and his captain. They could do anything as long as they had each other.’ His breathing slowly evened out as he focused on anchoring himself back to reality. He wasn’t in Sabaody or Kuraigana – he was on the Sunny. In the bar, with Nami who had grown so much since he last saw her. The look in his eye softened like it had before his breakdown.

“You’re staring at me again, Zoro.” The navigator teased, her hands falling to rest on his shoulders. He hadn’t let go of her yet but she didn’t mind, he could hold on to her for as long as he needed.

A ghost of his usual smirk passed across his face. “Sorry, Nami…” Zoro took a little risk by leaning in to press a chaste but lingering kiss to her cheek, then traced a path with the edge of his nose to her ear, murmuring, “Wine makes me a little… Messy.”

[seekingseven]

All I would like to request is Legend and Sky hanging out, maybe being friends. Also, love you lots Seeking! Hope you're taking care of yourself and having a good day. It's what you deserve ^u^

Linked Universe Prompt Requests #3!

First of all, I appreciate you so much, Silver! And second, here you go!

(You can also read the fic here on Ao3)

~~~~~~

Legend leaned against his kitchen counter, chin in his palm and nose scrunched against the breeze leaking through the window.

"Foul ball, that was a foul ball!"

"Wha- no it wasn't! You can't call a foul ball whenever we score!"

Warriors and Twilight glowered at each other. On the far side of the backyard, Wind dribbled a spotted ball between his ankles and made small talk with Wild, who was trying to wipe away the sweat pooling under his arms with the end of his ponytail.  Legend scrunched his nose in disgust. Apparently the champion's bright idea to host a ball game in the hottest hour of the afternoon had come back to bite him.

His focus drifted over to the other side of his backyard, where Hyrule stood forlornly between two wooden posts. His team's poor excuse for a goal, most likely.

"You tried to trip me!"

"I did not! Stop whining, would you? If you wanted to win you should have learned the rules of the game beforehand."

"Cut me some slack, Twi. It's my first time playing!"

"Not an excuse. If you wanted to learn you could have just stayed inside with Sky and Legend or gone to the market with Four!"

Warriors took a few quick steps forward. Twilight stood his ground and puffed up his chest.

"That's enough, you two." Time said, voice snapping from his spot on a nearby bench. Legend grunted. What kind of referee watched from a bench? This was why there was an argument happening in the first place.

Behind him, the kettle began to whistle. Legend pushed himself off his elbows and turned to shut off the stove top, only partially ignoring the sounds of athletic revelry from the backyard. Porcelain clinked as Legend pulled a cup off the drying rack, then, glancing across the room, pulled off another.

If Sky was bothered by any of the commotion outside or the domestic ambience inside, he didn't show it. Instead, he sat at a table by the porch window, filing idly through the mounds of miscellaneous letters and trinkets piled around him. An overhead cuckoo clock wheedled out a dinky tune as Sky scrutinized an oddly-shaped mask.

"Coffee?" Legend asked.

Sky looked up from the table, then smiled.

"Yes, please!"

"Wrong, it's tea. What kind do you want?"

Sky's eyebrows furrowed for a moment before he caught on.

"Oh, haha! You got me. Uh, I don't really know. Surprise me."

Legend nodded to himself as he poured the kettle into the two cups. "You like sweet stuff?"

"Yeah, big fan. Can't drink anything too hot, though. Hurts my face. You got any iced tea or something?"

Steam plumed from the cups. Legend let out a small snort.

"Would have been nice to know that earlier."

Sky scratched the back of his neck and had the decency to offer up an apologetic smile. With a roll of his eyes, Legend set the kettle down and hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter.

He knew he stored the ice cubes in one of the overhead cabinets, but which one? Cabinets opened and closed as Legend balanced precariously on the countertop. Where was it? Had he really been gone so long that he didn't know where his own things were?

"Hey Legend, what's this?"

Paper rustled. The legs of Sky's chair squeaked as he leaned back, and in the corner of his eye Legend saw his companion hold something up to his face.

"Little busy here," Legend mumbled, closing yet another cabinet full of pots and pans. Maybe he should give some to Ravio; the guy needed some things for his new place, anyway. "Can you describe it to me?"

A snicker, then a stifled sound of agreement. Legend would have turned around to glare at Sky if he wasn't busy gloating over his find; the ice, at last! The countertop groaned as Legend plopped the bag of ice atop it and hopped onto the floor.

"It's a letter," Sky began, his voice uncharacteristically suave. Legend's eyes narrowed. "It's in this little pink envelope, and there's a little heart sticker on it. Says on the back....'from Elise.' Oh ho ho! Who's Elise? And there's another one here! This one's white, and it has a flower sticker on the lip. Very, very cute. Is this from Elise, too? Let me see...oh goddesses! 'From Carmen!' Carmen! Now tell me, does Elise know about this Carmen?"

Sky looked up at him with an impossibly smug grin. Legend pressed the corners of his lips down as he pulled out the rest of the ingredients for the tea.

"They're just girls," Legend began. "Just-"

"Just girls? What kind of philosophy is that? And to think you criticize Warriors for his womanizing tendencies..."

"You didn't let me finish! They're just girls who work at the bakery in Castle Town. I don't know how they got my address, but one day they all started sending me letters like that."

Sky's eyebrows piqued upwards. It might have looked innocent if not for the devious smile on his face.

"Oh, I see. So why did you keep them? Elise and Carmen must have been very sorry to have not received any response," Sky said, rifling through the stack of pink and red and crème colored letters and flipping them over to read the names on the back. Legend pretended he didn't see Sky's grin widen. "And I'm guessing the same is true for poor Lisa...and Donatella...and Trish..."

It was a good thing that Legend was preoccupied with measuring out sugar and honey, because if he had been any closer to the ice cubes, they might have melted from the heat radiating off Legend's face.

"I'm serious, Sky! I don't know any of them. I don't know why they kept sending the letters -- I never even gave them my address! I mean, I'm sure they're all really nice girls, but I'm just not, you know, in the position to be in a relationship right now...with the traveling and heroics and all that..."

Silverware clattered as Legend pulled open a drawer and retrieved a fruit knife. The sound of shouting and running echoed from outside. Light streamed through the kitchen window, and the breeze pushed along dust bunnies on the floor. Sky studied Legend, watching with unusual intensity as the latter skinned and diced a peach, then folded his hands behind his head.

"Fine, fine. But one more question, then."

Legend made a vague sound that could have been read as either grateful or irritated; most likely, it was a combination of both. Sky pushed forward anyway.

"Why'd you keep them?"

"What?"

"The cards. Why did you keep them? Did you just not have a chance to throw them away or something?"

"Throw them away? Of course not! Did you see the paper they're made of? That sort of high quality cardstock doesn't come from just anywhere! If I can find a way to bleach the paper without damaging it, I can use it for all sorts of things!"

Sky snorted, smiled, and tossed a handful of pink cards back onto the table. Hoarder, indeed.

"I think that Ravio friend of yours is starting to rub off on you."

"He is not," Legend insisted, placing a spoon and straw in both cups before walking over to the table. Only after Sky brushed away the cards in front of him did Legend hand him his tea. "He would have tried to sell them off as antiques or something. Guy wouldn't know what a real antique was even if it was staring him in the face."

Sky hummed. The sound bubbled into his tea and set little capsules of air drifting across the frothy surface. "Hey, did you put peaches in this?"

"Yeah, you like it?"

Outside, Warriors cried foul and Hyrule said something about headshots. Sky sipped his drink again, then grinned. "Mmmm, delicious. Yeah, I love it! Give me the recipe sometime, huh?"

"Heh, will do. Glad you like it."

"And speaking of Ravio, where is he? Didn't you say he used to squat here?"

Legend nodded, hands cupped around his drink and goosebumps flaring from its soothing coolness. "He did, but he just moved out. Got his own shop by the castle, with a big nice sign out in front. Professionally made. It looks pretty good, honestly. I haven't seen him in a while, but I might drop by sometime to say hi."

"Ah, I see," Sky said, absently threading one of the love letters through his fingers. Legend shot him a dirty glare, but he paid it no mind. "Hey, you said that these girls somehow figured your address, right? Do you think Ravio might have given it out? Maybe while you were gone or something?"

"Ravio? That's ridiculous. He's not the sort of guy to do that. For the longest time he's been telling me to...to..."

Legend's eyes widened. The goosebumps along his arms grew more pronounced, and this time it wasn't from his chilly drink.

"He what?" Sky prompted.

"He's been telling me to get a girlfriend for the longest time and...he...he set me up. He set me up! He gave out my address to those girls. I know it! He...this is his fault!"

Sky burst into laughter. Tea sprayed across the table, splattering across rose-colored envelopes and sparkling cardstock. Legend punched him in the shoulder, hard, but Sky didn't stop.

"Ravio! Ravio as your wingman, I would have never thought! Doing the goddesses' work, he is!"

"Oh, shut up, would you? I'm not going to make you tea again!"

Their punching and tousling cooled when the front door swung open. A moment later, Four stepped inside, arms laden with groceries and a peculiar grin on his face.

"You're back!" Sky said. Legend mumbled something about Sky stating the obvious before placing his cup to his cheek, trying to smother his burning blush.

"Sorry to interrupt whatever was going on here," Four said. That odd smile was still on his face. "I’m just about to put all these groceries away, but there's something I need to give to Legend first."

"Me?" Legend asked. Four's grin widened; it looked unnervingly similar to the one Sky had worn just minutes ago.

"Yes, special delivery. From a certain 'Amelia'. It's the red box, yeah, that one."

Legend picked up the box gently, sandwiching it between his forearm and bicep, and shuddered. Sky and Four traded a sidelong look before the latter darted off into the kitchen.

"Well? What do you think it is?" Sky asked.

"I don't want to know," Legend whispered. He took a seat by the table before tossing the box by his cup. Something rustled inside.

"Open it..."

"Open it!" Four chimed from the kitchen. His voice was unusually high.

With a world weary sigh, Legend edged his fingers under the box cover and slowly lifted it upwards.

"Well? What is it?"

"Wait, would you? I can't tell..."

Legend leaned forward, squinting.

His eyes widened.

With an undignified BANG, he slammed the box shut and launched it across the room. His face was stained a dangerous color of scarlet.

"...well?" Sky repeated, "what was it?"

Legend let out a short breath, then leaned over to cradle his head in his hands.

"...remind me to kill Ravio the next time I see him," he growled.

Sky and Four burst into laughter, and even Legend couldn't fully stifle a smile.

~~ Fine ~~ I hope you enjoyed! Thank you so much for reading! [Previous Request] - [Next Request]

[novelconcepts]

Jamie & Dani short prompt- Online Dating au meeting online and being from bad past relationship. Thank u

This is probably a bad idea. It is, isn’t it? Almost certainly.

Why is she here?

Dani Clayton has been playing this particular set of thoughts--bad idea, terrible idea, why would you do this?--on repeat for three days. Ever since setting up that dating profile. Ever since realizing there isn’t much use in setting up a dating profile if you’re not going to use it. 

Oh, it’s all fun and games, building the thing. Find a photo that accentuates all the best parts of your face--Dani, after an hour of careful consideration, wound up going with one that accentuated her hair, more than anything, but she suspects the same idea counts. Then, the profile. What do you like? Teaching, long walks, new experiences, bad coffee. What don’t you like? 

Men, she’d thought, and snorted aloud into her wine before settling on: Deep water, accordion music, expectations, being called Danielle. 

A little more flourish, tipsy keystrokes, a casually-framed short-version of her life. Perfect. And then...well, then you hit the publish button, don’t you? You decide, for better or worse, to jump off this diving board and see just how far you can stand to swim before the energy gives out on you.

The faces appearing before her hadn’t been bad, certainly. Pretty, most of them. Interesting, a few. Still, she hadn’t swiped right on any--once or twice, because she’d forgotten which way meant yes please, but mostly because no one seemed quite...right. Which, she’d thought, was silly. The whole point of an app like this is to cast as many nets as possible and see what comes up. The whole point is to have fun. 

But every time she’d hovered over a promising image, a woman who likes dogs, or plays the violin, or goes rock-climbing in her spare time, she’d thought of him. Eddie. Who had taken one yes to a single date, and tried to make a whole life with her out of it. 

Eddie, who had taken her two decades to pull away from. 

What if the women here were the same? Not Eddie, exactly, but--presumptive. What if they believed a swipe-right was as good as a marriage proposal? What if she got bound up in conversation, and then a date, and then a relationship with someone else who just didn’t fit right?

Left. Left. Left. 

And then: the mistake.

She hadn’t meant to swipe right. Exactly. She hadn’t planned, maybe is the better way of putting it, on swiping right. She’d only wanted to look at the woman’s profile a little longer. Only wanted to inspect the facets this woman had put out on display with almost resigned simplicity. 

Some people, Dani had by now realized, wrote poetry and paragraphs to describe themselves. 

Jamie Taylor had bullet points.

“Gardener. English. Likes: Plants. Stories. Tea. Dislikes: Bullshit.”

The end. That had been quite literally the sum of it. Gardener. English. No bullshit.

But the picture, somehow, Dani hadn’t been able to look away from. Not because of carefully-arranged lighting, not because of a curated model-clean image--but because the woman appeared to have posted the photo almost under duress. It came in profile, as though someone else had done the job, her head turned toward the camera as if interrupted. Her hands were buried in a flower pot. Her clothes were simple--a tank top, a silver chain resting against the jut of collarbones, a pair of worn-looking jeans with holes in the knees. Her eyes--some fascinating color Dani couldn’t quite place--looked somewhere between amused and irritated. 

She looked real. 

Stupid, Dani thinks now--because that was probably the idea, wasn’t it? This woman, Jamie, had planned to look exactly this way. Real. Vexed at the idea of putting herself out there. Reluctantly available. 

It was a ploy, certainly--but one that seems to be working, because not only did Dani accidentally-not-accidentally swipe right, she found herself texting the woman. For hours. She’d expected much less, had figured this Jamie person would be as brief in text as she had been in bio, but...

Jamie had talked to her. Willingly. Teasingly, with more humor than truth, maybe, but with no sign at all that she was sick of Dani’s questions, bad jokes, nervous assessment that I really don’t do this, I honestly don’t get it. 

I don’t, either, Jamie had replied, and that had felt like enough of a reason to keep testing the waters. Enough of a reason to keep the conversation going back and forth, back and forth, until nearly two in the morning.

Shit, she’d said. I need to be at work in four hours. 

Shame, Jamie had replied, her tone already searingly familiar over text. Own your own business, make your own hours. Far wiser approach. 

I’ll make a note of it for when I found an elementary school, Dani had replied, laughing. She hadn’t said she’d already been in bed for an hour, the phone resting on the pillow beside her head so she wouldn’t miss the buzz of a new message. It had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, with wine-warmed blood and the happy haze of good conversation. Jamie made her laugh. Jamie put her at ease. Jamie might not have been real, but she felt real, and that was good. 

Better than anything she’d felt in years, if she was honest with herself. 

Still, when the next day had come and gone with no message, she’d thought, Fair enough. Jamie had been good virtual company for one night. It was more than she’d expected to get out of this app.

Far more than she’d expected, particularly when Thursday night rolled around and her phone buzzed.

Teacher, yeah? No school on Saturday?

Correct, Dani had replied, as amused by the out-of-left-field text as she was irritated with how her stomach had flipped over upon receiving it. You have figured out the complexity of the American school system. 

I am a genius, Jamie sent back, followed quickly by: Drinks tomorrow night? 

Drinks. A thing that people do. A thing that adult people do for date reasons. 

She isn’t real, she’d thought, even as her thumb was punching back: How’s 8? Miller’s?

A mistake. Definitely a mistake. Because the app had been a lark, and the conversation had been too easy, and the fact that she can’t quite pick out the colors in Jamie’s eyes from a single photo is making her crazier than she’d like to admit. 

A mistake, saying yes. A mistake, suggesting the local pub-like establishment around the corner, whose beer-and-burger specials had kept her fed on too many evenings spent working late. A mistake, because once this goes south--as it’s absolutely bound to, as everything Eddie-shaped always has--she’s going to lose her favorite hangout in the deal, too.

And yet: here she is. Standing at the door, wondering if the outfit chosen for the evening festivities--tight jeans, pink blouse, hoop earrings--is too much or not nearly enough. 

What am I doing here?

Maybe, she thinks with mingled alarm and hope, she won’t even have showed up. Maybe it’s all part of the ruse: look approachable, look human and normal, look a little too beautiful in the most grounded way possible--then, cheerfully, invite a woman to drinks and just don’t show. A fun story for whoever comes next. Can you believe she thought I’d want to meet her after one night of texting?

“Dani?” 

English, Dani thinks with a sudden rush of heat. Right. Somehow, she hadn’t quite been prepared for the accent, which--coming out of this woman, draped with languid ease at a table--is truly a little more than Dani thinks she can handle just now. The accent, combined with the mess of curls dragged back from her face, and a dress sense that manages to be both casual and deeply attractive at the same time, is...

“Jamie,” she says, her voice a little lower, a little more hoarse, than is truly necessary. The woman pushes up from her seat, a small-framed figure in a black button-down, suspenders, ripped jeans. She’s pressing a hand toward Dani, offering a firm shake as though they are business partners, not an off-the-cuff bad idea of a date. “You look--”

“Never been here before,” Jamie says, almost apologetically. She gestures for Dani to sit before dropping back down in a sprawl that implies exactly the opposite of what her mouth is insisting. “Wasn’t sure about the, ah, dress code.”

“You--you did fine,” Dani tells her, wishing suddenly she’d gone for a dress. Or a  different human body altogether. She feels too tightly-strung, too anxious for the easy smile on Jamie’s lips. “Um. You’re very. In person.”

“Very,” Jamie repeats, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “Is very American for wish I’d gone left, after all?”

“No. No. Absolutely not. That.” Bit too forceful, she suspects, judging by the smile spreading into a grin. “No, it’s just--your picture didn’t--tell me you’d be so...”

“Clean?” Jamie suggests innocently. She raises her hands, wiggling her fingers in a small wave. “Scrub up fine, when I need to. Seemed to call for it.”

“And you...sure did answer,” Dani says stupidly. “The. Call, I mean. I’m sorry, I really don’t do this often.”

Something seems to soften in Jamie, her smile less teasing as she leans across the table. “Hey, no worries here. Same person you were talking to the other night.”

Dani nods, embarrassed, and flags down a server. Drinks ordered, she draws in a deep breath.

“I mean, I haven’t done this in years. Or. Ever, I guess.”

“A first date?” Jamie asks. When Dani doesn’t answer, she adds in a knowing tone, “A date with a woman?”

“Both,” Dani says honestly. “My last relationship was--well, I mean, we were engaged--”

Jamie whistles under her breath, reaching up to scratch her head. “Blimey. What happened?”

“He’s...him.” It’s too much to go into on a first date, too much to explain, even though talking to Jamie over text had been so dangerously easy. “My best friend growing up, but that was...growing up.”

Jamie nods thoughtfully, tilting her chin in thanks when the server deposits two full pint glasses and a basket of fries on the table. “Rough time, sounds like. I can relate. My last relationship also did not go well.”

“Was he also a man who thought you’d be all too happy to quit your job and take care of a bunch of babies?” Dani asks, perhaps a little too bitterly for the occasion. Jamie flashes another grin, sipping her drink.

“She was a woman who thought I’d be all too happy to take the fall when she got busted for possession.”

Dani gapes. “Oh. Oh--I didn’t know--I’m so--”

Jamie shrugs. “She wasn’t wrong. I was nineteen, and deeply stupid. Live and learn, as the poets say.”

“Which poets?” Dani asks, smiling a little. Jamie’s brow furrows.

“John...Lennon, possibly? Hard to say. Anyway, relationships are a chore and a half, but the greatest people in the world tell me thirty is too old to play musical bedframes, so. Here we are.”

No bullshit, thinks Dani approvingly. For what little she’d put into her profile, Jamie evidently hadn’t been lying about that.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since you were nineteen?”

“In my mind, I was still in the relationship at twenty-four, when they let me out. She didn’t agree. Found out she’d been married two years, by then.” Something darkens in Jamie’s eyes for a moment. She sighs. “Like I said. Not my finest. But I am, as they say, a shining beacon of reform these days.”

“Now, when you say they,” Dani teases, grinning. Jamie nods decisively. 

“John Lennon. Definitively.”

There it is, thinks Dani, watching Jamie pop a fry into her mouth. There, the easy roll of conversation from the other night. As though they’ve known each other forever. As though two people who have thus far failed irrevocably at relationships make a perfect match.

Easy, she thinks. Don’t go wild, now. 

“So,” she says, when the comfortable silence between them has grown a bit too comfortable for the setting, “who are the greatest people in the world? The ones who tell you thirty is too old for...did you say musical bedframes?”

Jamie laughs. The ring of it curls gently around Dani’s head like a soft hand, a sound she’ll find herself replaying later with a skipping heart. 

“Not many willing to put up with a grump of my caliber, but Hannah and Owen fight the good fight. So long as I at least pretend to try.”

“Let me guess. They set up the account for you?”

Jamie makes a sort of gesture in the air with the hand not holding her glass. “Threatened to bury me in puns and children, respectively, if I kept putting it off. Owen’s still grumpy about the photo choice.”

“I liked it,” Dani says without thinking. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you did swipe as much. Mind if I ask why?”

Walked into this one. Still, she doesn’t mind as much as she probably should, not with the genuine curiosity in Jamie’s eyes. “You looked--don’t laugh.”

“No promises,” Jamie says, but with the gentle tone of one who knows exactly how much to tease before it’ll hurt. The idea warms Dani in a way she’s not quite ready to look at yet.

“You looked real,” Dani says. “Like you weren’t going to play games, or waste anyone’s time. Like you just wanted to be happy in peace.”

“That is,” Jamie says, holding out a fry for Dani to take, “sort of the idea, yeah.”

There’s an almost puzzled cast to her smile, like she didn’t entirely expect this answer, and is pleased by it at the same time. That same sense from the photo sweeps over Dani now--that this woman is authentic, even if she’s not always shiny, that she’s kind even if not entirely clean. That she doesn’t have any interest in muddled expectation or living a comfortable lie.

“And me?” Dani asks. She doesn’t entirely mean to--but she’s sure, in asking, that Jamie will answer. Jamie is unlike anyone else she’s ever met, the first person she’s ever known to meet each question head-on. 

“Honestly?”

Dani nods. Jamie seems to consider it, turning it over in her head as she twists a fry between her fingers like a cigarette. 

“All of it.”

“That’s,” Dani begins to laugh, “that’s not--”

“No,” Jamie says, and she isn’t smiling, exactly. Her eyes have a sort of shine Dani likes very much, but there is no hint of teasing in them now. “Really. All of it. You’re...very pretty, and that’s--but the way you described yourself. Like you didn’t care to be anyone in particular. You like new experiences, and bad coffee. You hate being called Danielle. I...I wanted to know why.”

“It’s not my name,” Dani says simply. Jamie gives a brief laugh, her hand moving across the table to lightly brush Dani’s fingertips. 

“I wanted to know why all of it. Why do you like bad coffee--”

“It’s the only kind I know how to make,” Dani says automatically. “Just sort of leaned into it.”

“--and teaching--”

“I want to make a difference,” Dani says. 

“--and where you most like to go on those long walks--”

“Anywhere I can breathe,” Dani says. Her fingers are hesitant, tracing the tips of Jamie’s. There’s something electric about this, about barely touching, about barely knowing someone and still wanting to give them neatly-packaged secrets shaped like the mundane. 

Jamie is smiling. “See, that. I like that. All of it.”

It’s nothing, Dani thinks reflexively. A collection of details. A sparse approximation of a life. Eddie knows all of this, and then some, and never matched up to knowing her.

But this woman, leaning across the table with one hand outstretched, looks so different. Watches her with steady interest. Is listening to every word Dani says, though the bar is growing crowded around them, and soon, conversation will become a task instead of a gift.

“Would you,” Dani says, feeling certain that some mistakes are not as bad as they seem, “like to take one of those walks?”

“Tonight?” 

“Yeah. Tonight.” Emboldened by the smile, by the curl falling into Jamie’s eyes, by the knowledge that she still can’t quite make out what color those eyes are, Dani takes her hand. It’s so easy, she thinks she could do it even without looking. “Right now.”

No bullshit, she thinks. No expectations. Just Jamie looking at her like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. Dani can’t blame her. This isn’t at all what she’d thought she was getting, walking in tonight. 

But there’s something about it--something about the feeling that she’s been here before, or should be here forever, or will always find her way back to a woman who looks at her just like this--that almost makes her feel brave. Almost makes her feel wonderful. She rises from the table, laying cash beneath her half-empty glass, and feels a pleasant jolt in her chest when Jamie follows without another word.

If this a mistake, she thinks as they step out into the brisk evening air, it’s one she’s hungry to make.