#But they're not the ones that I spend hours pondering

[amethystina]

I love to see when you post and I get great drama recommendations from you. I recently watched Black Knight and the Ying-Yang Master thanks to your posts and loved them!

I find C-Dramas often give the best dynamics between male characters for BLs because there's so much chemistry and great dynamics even after censorship. It also means that the stories are often better and, for me at least, more interesting, as they often can't just explore the relationship between the characters and instead frame it with the plot. I'm not sure whether you've seen it yet or heard about it, but the new show 'The Spirealm' is great! I wanted to recommend it to you after all the shows you've spoken of. There are so many interesting aspects and details that you can find even after multiple watches that I think you'd enjoy.

I'm so happy to hear that! I'm somewhat famous amongst my friends for pushing recommendations onto them, or at least ranting about the things I've watched in painful detail. My poor wife definitely gets the shortest end of that stick, since she sees me pretty much every day. So she's had to listen to me talk about a lot of dramas and movies she's got absolutely no interest in x'D

She really liked The Yin-Yang Master, though! So it's not all bad. Man, I love that movie so, so much.

While it's terrible that CDramas have to be censored the way they are, I agree that it pushes the creators to explore relationships in a very interesting way. They have to build it into the story in a way that more straightforward BLs can just skip, because they can rely on the physical chemistry to convey the budding relationship.

That said, I admit that CDramas often feel a bit... stilted to me? They're too perfectly choreographed, never a hair or detail out of place, to the point where the characters don't always feel like people to me. Like, they're so obviously characters, not real people, if that makes sense?

That's not to say that I don't enjoy them! Heck, The Untamed is still one of the best dramas I've ever watched, Guardian is one of my favourite dumpster fires, and The Yin-Yang Master movie is one of my go-to's when I need something to completely immerse myself into. But, on the whole, they don't intrigue me the way other dramas or movies might, since they're always so polished. Which means I can't connect with them on the same level as I do with many other pieces of media. I can definitely appreciate the plot, story, characters, aesthetics and so on, but it rarely goes deeper than the surface level. It kind of feels like they're keeping me at arm's length, somehow?

But that's definitely a me problem, since I think it has to do with that thing of mine where I want to analyse every tiny detail. And it's not as fun in CDramas because they make it so obvious that every detail is there for a reason. I mean, it always is in all shows and movies — everything on set is knowingly placed there — but the CDramas don't try to hide it? They even go out of their way to make everything as flawless as possible if they can. And something flawless isn't fun for me to analyse. Like, I can tell that they're putting on a show and that just makes me less interested in trying to find the secrets behind it, I guess?

But, again, that doesn't mean I don't enjoy them! I often do, especially for the aesthetics and the sweeping, dramatic plotlines. But it tends to end up being pretty shallow in my case, since they rarely give me enough to really sink my teeth into. Like, I don't think it's a coincidence that the CDrama I've been the closest to writing fanfics for (Guardian) is also one of the messiest, production wise. I like it when things feel more relaxed and real. Not gritty or anything, just... real.

Anyhow! The Spirealm looks interesting so I'll definitely put it on my list of things to watch! Thank you for the recommendation! :D

And I hope I'll be able to spread even more joy in the future!

[wuahae]

☼ dayglow

pairing: mingyu x f!reader

wc: ~19k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chaeyoung.”

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

"Chaeyoung."

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

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

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

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

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

"You said that already."

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

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

"It shows dedication—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That is just some guy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel so wronged. “What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seungkwan.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, babe…”

“Et tu!”

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

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

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

“Bummer…”

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

“I am not—”

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

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

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

“Hong?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m in love…”

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

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

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

“But why not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t expect anyone else to be here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like me?

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

“Huh? No, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grip on your spoon tightens.

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…?”

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

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

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

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

You drive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What were you thinking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, here—" he begins, but stops himself, taking a small sniff of the cloth before wrinkling his nose. "Actually, um, maybe you shouldn't borrow this after all…"

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

"My house isn't far from here," Mingyu tells you, jabbing a thumb in the opposite direction of the beach. “I can lend you one of my shirts if we stop by?” His eyes are hopeful when he brings it up, like he wouldn’t be able to sleep well if he just let you go home in a cold, half-wet swimsuit top. “And—”

The distinct noise of your stomach growling interrupts him, and you both stop for a moment to truly register the sound. Mingyu looks down to your stomach, blinking, then turns away quickly to stifle his laughter. Heat flushes up your neck as your hands fly to your face, squeezing your eyes shut. 

There’s no way this is happening right now.

“I am so sorry, please ignore that,” you squeak, willing yourself to shrink down into microscopic particles and disappear, but Mingyu puts a hand on your shoulder right as you’re about to spiral in shame. 

“We can stop by my house,” he says gently, lips still quirking up at the corners, “and then we can get something to eat on the way back, okay?”

By the way he’s talking to you, you have a brief but horrid vision of your uncanny resemblance to a petrified hamster. But the warmth of his hand is still on your skin, and his eyes wait patiently for you to take up on his offer, so you let out a quiet, “okay.” 

(You figure it would be okay for you to run away for just a little longer, right?)

Mingyu grins in response, wide-toothed and lopsided, his hand slipping off of your shoulder to circle around to the driver’s side. You try not to notice the absence as you tug the handle of the car door open.

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

You try not to stare at it for too long at a time (the rhythm is quite hypnotizing), but Mingyu notices your drifting glances making its way back to the figure and he jumps to explain. “It’s not mine, I promise,” he says lamely, gesturing towards it with a nod of his head. “My dad insisted on keeping it there when he handed the truck down to me; said since it’s older than me it has the right of seniority or something.”

Laughing, you shake your head, lips curled upwards. “No, no, it’s cute. Sounds like it means a lot to him.”

Mingyu exhales, exasperated, but it’s all lighthearted by the ease in his shoulders. “You could say that. A little too much, if you ask me.”

"But it's nice, isn't it?" you ask, peering at him. "To have him pass something so special down to you?"

He pauses, eyes fond when he nods. "Yeah, I guess so."

You soon arrive at a large gate a couple minutes later, sandwiched between two stone walls surrounding the perimeter of the property. It opens with a press of a button, Mingyu casually pulling into a driveway you’ve only ever had the privilege of seeing from a distance—longing looks from the sidewalk before you inevitably had to walk past, pictures online of houses one could only dream of having. Gravel crunches underneath the truck’s wheels as it slows to a halt, and Mingyu looks over at you, gesturing to the house. "Well, this is my place."

Hopping out, you try not to gape as you follow him to the front door, catching on the minute details of it all. The sleek pavement of the sidewalk leading up the front porch steps, the flowers and ferns in the front garden lush and vibrant with color alit with small garden lamps planted in the soil, an unblemished white painted on all sides of the house. The porch light flickers on the moment Mingyu steps on the smooth wood—warm, steady, alive.

Mingyu fumbles with his keys for a second before unlocking the house, shifting to the side for you to walk through first before following after. You wait patiently by the door while he flips on the lightswitch on the other side of the room, and it isn’t until he looks back at you and beckons you over that you trail behind him, feet shuffling in the house slippers he lends you.

“It’s a nice place,” you say softly when Mingyu slips into the laundry room, tossing his dirty spare shirt into the hamper. “Close to the beach, too.”

“Ah, yeah,” Mingyu shrugs, a half-hearted smile on his face. “It’s honestly more of my gramps’s than mine or my parents—he’s the one who bought it a long time ago—but I can’t say it’s not a nice place to live.”

You appreciate the honesty over forced humble pretenses; not that Mingyu was ever the type to try to appear different than who he really was, but you've spent far too much of your life trying to wade through false platitudes that his openness comes as a pleasant surprise. 

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

Mingyu tells you he’ll be right back with an extra shirt and to make yourself comfortable, and you give him an acknowledging hum and nod in response, brushing your fingers lightly against the pencil marks etched into the wall beside his bedroom door, each line marked with an age as they climb up the wall. As you wait for him to rummage through his drawers, you turn back to the assortment of photos displayed on the wall, a small desk in the corner to display the trinkets that couldn’t fit on the main display. 

Sepia photos mixed with more modern, saturated prints, they’re all shots of who you deduce is Mingyu’s grandfather surfing, posing on the beach, a sweet wedding photo of Mingyu’s grandparents’ wedding reception with a matching picture of Mingyu’s parents’ reception placed right below, interspersed with pictures of Mingyu through the ages, his baby pictures and school graduations and everything in between (there’s a specific one you stop on for a little laugh, his middle school graduation picture with slicked gelled hair and a stiff, awkward smile appropriate for a thirteen year old in a suit too big around the shoulders). You stop on a particular framed film picture of Mingyu’s grandfather, smiling brightly at the camera with a surfboard in one hand and a shaka sign in the other; a smaller picture sits tucked in the corner of the frame—eight-year-old Mingyu, gap-toothed and cheesing, doing the same matching pose with his dad.

You’d be lying if the pictures weren’t adorable enough on their own, but what evokes an uncontrollably fond smile from you is Mingyu’s almost uncanny resemblance to his grandpa, down to the wolfish grin that both wear with ease. Everyone had always teased him about it, especially back in high school, but you had always thought that it was all just cliché small talk from adults until now.

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

“Hope you’re okay with this spare,” Mingyu calls as he exits his room, gently breaking you out of your rêverie. “If not, I can find something else?” 

You hum in response, glancing at the black shirt in his hands. “No, that should be fine,” you say, holding out your hand. “Is there a bathroom I can use?”

He points down the hall, then crooks his finger. “Go straight and it should be on your left at the end of the hall.”

“Great, thank you.”

Following his directions, you find the bathroom and shut the door quietly. You allow yourself a split second of admiring the interior (what a fancy sink.) before changing quickly into his spare clothes, stuffing your still-damp bikini top into the bag you had brought inside with you. Questionable print on the graphic tee aside, you would rather gratefully accept his kind gesture than be shivering and cold in your damp swimsuit.

When you return, you find him still standing at the photo gallery, the tips of his ears tinged scarlet; you think you’re imagining it at first, maybe a trick of the light, but when you walk closer and look again, his ears still burn, arguably even brighter with you staring at him like that.

Blinking, you almost ask if he’s okay before he speaks, his voice seeped in embarrassment. “You were looking at the pictures before, right?”

“Yes…?”

“Did you see the, um…” Mingyu squeezes his eyes shut, looking away. “Did you see the one from my middle school graduation.”

Covering your laugh with a short, obvious fake-cough, you shake your head vigorously, hands waving in emphasis. “What? I can’t say that I did.”

Mingyu’s voice borders on a whine. “You’re lying, you did see it, didn’t you?”

 “No, no!” You hold your arms out in front of you in an ‘X,’ shaking your head again. “Not a single thirteen-year-old Mingyu in sight! Promise!”

Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Mingyu grabs his keys from the counter, walking towards the front door. He holds it open for you to walk through first (a common habit, apparently), but you can’t help the teasing remark that slips past when you pass through the door. “You were quite dashing with that hair, though. Did it take long to gel like that?”

“I knew it!”

The diner Mingyu drives you to sits on a wind-up path from the road between his house and the beach. It’s quiet when you enter, the bell above the door jingling quickly followed by Mingyu’s friendly greeting towards the diner staff. The cook waves at him through the kitchen window the minute he spots him, a welcoming holler shouted his way, and the waitress smiles as she reaches for the stash of menus hidden under the counter.

“Sit wherever you’d like,” she calls, “I’ll be right there!”

Mingyu nudges you with a prompting motion, and you rock on your heels looking around the diner before taking a seat at the booth second-closest to the door, Mingyu sliding into the booth across from you. The waitress comes seconds after, handing a single menu to you, along with two glasses of water; you look to Mingyu on instinct, but the waitress has you beat to it.

“The regular for you, right?” she asks, a brow quirked up in amusement, and Mingyu grins.

“You know me so well.”

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

Mingyu slaps a hand over his chest in faux hurt, but she ignores him smoothly, instead turning her attention to you. “Hi, I haven’t seen you here before? My name’s Hayoung, by the way!”

You startle at the sudden attention. “Oh! Yeah, I, um,” your eyes flicker to Mingyu, “Mingyu recommended it for a late night snack, I was kind of just following him.”

 She raises a brow at that, nudging Mingyu again with the pencil as she whispers. “Late night, huh?”

He smacks it away, hissing. “Not like that!”

Hayoung hides her smirk behind her notepad, waving his objection with a flippant hand. “Anyway, enough about him,” she says, turning to you again. “Have you decided what you want yet? I can totally come back if you haven’t!”

Scanning through the menu, you point to the first item that catches your eye. “Can I just have a club sandwich? With the fries as a side.”

“Yeah, of course! I’ll be right out with those in a second!”

Hayoung places her notepad back in her apron and skips back to the kitchen, though not without another sneaky glance at Mingyu and his returning exasperation at her not-so-subtle implications. Mingyu shoots her a dirty look with her back turned, ears burning, before turning back to you while he grumbles under his breath about how they were never going to let him live this down.

(Hayoung and the cook gossip in loud whispers a few feet away, something about “he brought a girl here…” and how they were so proud, they thought he was going to be single forever—)

You stifle a laugh behind a sip of your water, and Mingyu looks at you with a hand shielding his face from the other side of the diner. He is just exhausted.

“What’s your regular order?” you ask, throwing a line to help drag him out of sinking embarrassment. It was the least you could do, especially after filing away the knowledge of his middle school photo for a later time.

“A double cheeseburger,” he replies, slowly pulling himself out of his wallowing. “With fries.”

You nod. “Of course. You can’t skip the fries.”

“See! I knew you would get it!”

You settle into comfortable small talk soon after, reminiscing about old classmates and sharing stories from the summer. According to the grapevine, Soonyoung had landed himself into a bit of trouble after he was almost caught running around your old middle school track half-naked after a poorly executed dare. All the security guard’s flashlight had caught was a head of platinum hair and a glimpse of tiger print boxers, but those details could only really narrow it down to one person. 

(You had raised a brow in between laughs at Mingyu's involvement in the whole incident, but he insisted on his innocence and that he only heard about it from other people afterwards. You believe him, if only because of his inability to lie.)

Though, even if Mingyu tried his hardest to act natural, it wasn’t hard to pick up the way he tries to skirt around the elephant in the room. You think it’s more for your sake than his, but with the lull of silence that falls after each brief burst of conversation, his awkward flitting gaze from you to the table to the kitchen and back to the table reminds you of everything that’s happened tonight.

You don’t necessarily want to bring it up yourself either, what with the embarrassment that still clings to you at just the thought of the memory. You were the one who’d made a big scene out of something you definitely could have prevented, after all. And even after everything, Mingyu was still kind enough to invite you back to his house and lend you his clothes, going so far as to invite you out to his favorite diner. It seemed a little too much to ask him to bear the weight of your emotional burdens on top of everything else he’s done for you tonight.

But when Hayoung comes over with both of your plates and Mingyu begins to open his mouth to say something, only to stiffly eat a fry instead, it really hits you. He saved your life.

Mingyu had already seen the most vulnerable parts of yourself, your crumbling and the aftermath—what was a little more of yourself bared? Maybe it’s the clatter of the kitchen cleaning up and the warm, yellow light of the diner that allows your shoulders to drop; or maybe, maybe—

(You’ll be gone in a month, anyway. By the time you’re back, it’ll be winter, and you’ll come back to the eternal sunny skies, and this will all be behind you. But when the wound is still fresh and the sea salt still stings too much to tell the difference between honesty and shame, you allow yourself to indulge in your selfishness a little more tonight.)

“So, um,” you start, nibbling at a fry on your plate. “About what happened tonight.”

Mingyu stops, eyes widening. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s totally fine—”

“Mingyu,” you interrupt gently, meeting his gaze. “I want to.”

And so you tell him everything: the way your graduation dinner had fallen apart, that you ran away in the middle of your own party, the reason why you’d stupidly dove into a wave you knew you couldn’t handle.

“I just couldn’t do it anymore.” Your confession comes soft, an exhale more than anything. It was a relief, in a way, finally saying it out loud after months of stifling it down. It wasn’t that you hated the idea of knowing what your future was going to be—it had always seemed like a given, the foundation for a good life you’d been building since you were in high school: graduate with top marks from a good university, get a good internship and job offer straight after school so you could start earning money as soon as possible. All of that meant you needed to give up any distractions in the process, even if one of those distractions was the thing you loved most. “It’s like there was always this pressure on me, you know? From my parents, my other relatives, my friends…” It’s almost hard to admit, saying out loud for the first time. “But I guess most of it comes from myself. It always has.”

Mingyu keeps his eyes on you, nodding intently when you glance back at him periodically. But after you fall silent, finally relieving everything off your chest, he opens his mouth for the first time since he started listening. “Do your parents know? About the reasons why you’re really quitting surfing?”

You shake your head, a soft “no,” accompanying it. “I know they’d try to stop me. Try to convince me otherwise and maybe even send me that stupid surfboard a week later to make sure I still keep it.” You laugh a little at the image, surfboard crammed inside a big cardboard box taking up half the room in your shared dorm. 

“It’s not like they’ve ever put any pressure on me to do this for them or anything, and they’ve always supported me in whatever I wanted to do, but…” Your voice trails off, eyes falling to the half-eaten plate in front of you. “They gave up their dreams because of me.”

It’s strange, really. You never once thought you would one day expose the rawest part of yourself to Kim Mingyu of all people, but the words spill out before you can stop yourself. (Maybe when the night ends, you can blame this moment of vulnerability on him, on the earnestness in his eyes when he looks at you.)

“They should have completed school like they wanted to,” you say quietly. “Mom wanted to be a doctor, and Dad wanted to be the first one in his family to finish school and graduate. And they never did, because they chose to have me instead.” Your head tilts to the side, observing the diner. Hayoung types something rapidly on her phone hidden underneath the register, to which the chef sees through the kitchen window and tells her to get off her ass and start cleaning tables or something. She snaps back in a hushed voice that ‘Mingyu was having a moment…!’ which you pointedly ignore. “They’ve already given me so much love, I wanna show them that choosing to have me was the right decision. It wouldn’t be right of me to keep doing whatever I wanted without paying them back first, you know?”

So what if you had to give up surfing? That was why you went into the sea in the first place, right? To give yourself this one last thing, because you could never have it again—not really, not like this. Not that it mattered much in the end, anyway. 

The memory of the broken board floating on the surface of the waves flashes in your mind with a pang. With the surfboard gone, so is the temptation. Maybe it was for the best.

You breathe out, almost shakily, steeling yourself to look at Mingyu again. “That’s it, really. And I’m sorry. This wasn’t the kind of night I pictured having today, and I’m sure this…” you trail off, gesturing vaguely, “wasn’t the night you envisioned for yourself on a Friday night either.”

The fries are almost cold now, as you take another one to nibble on gingerly.

“No, don’t apologize,” Mingyu says, shaking his head. “It sounds like you have a lot on your plate.”

You shrug, smiling a little. “I guess you could say that.”

“But…” His next words come carefully, almost gentle, and you get the feeling he’s trying to avoid touching any nerves. “I just don’t think this is what your parents would have wanted for you.”

You must make a face, because Mingyu immediately backtracks, scrambling to rephrase his point. “Tell me if I’m overstepping, I really don’t mean to at all and I’m really sorry if I do, but...” He hesitates, slightly. “Do you remember when you saw me on the beach that one time?”

“You’d asked me to keep it a secret.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “I think I just didn’t want it to get out. It’s a small town, people talk.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Why would it matter, though?”

It was just surfing, wasn’t it?

“It’s like…” Mingyu trails off, pursing his lips in thought. “I like surfing, really. But it’s no secret who my gramps is.”

(His grandpa was the local legend, after all. Both breaking the record of the youngest to win the highly acclaimed annual surfing competition on the island and the one to hold the first place for the most years in a row, he was a pillar in the community, almost a local celebrity with how much he was admired and loved. It was how they could afford the house that they all lived in, why so many older adults looked at Mingyu with a generational fondness in their eyes, why there were so many childhood photos of Mingyu and his dad by the beach even though none of them really indulged in it as professionally as his grandpa did.)

“If people knew that I liked surfing, it would only be a matter of time before they would start expecting things from me, you know? Stuff like living up to my grandpa’s name or taking his mantle because my dad chose not to, continuing my grandpa’s legacy—it’s not what I want, and it’s not what my parents or my gramps want for me either.” Mingyu pauses. “They’ve always encouraged me to do things that I want to do, not things that I think that others want from me… and I think your parents feel the same.

“I get it, I really do,” he says, smiling a little, “but it’s not about what you feel like you owe them, or what you feel you need to do as an obligation. It’s about what you want, right? That’s what your parents would want for you too.” The bell jingles as a group of high schoolers come stumbling in, greeting Hayoung cheerfully, but it all fades to the background. “And I know it feels wrong from everything you’re used to, but it’s okay—it’s okay to have both.”

You swallow hard, your cup of water empty of everything except for the little unmelted ice left. A small part of you wants to let his words bounce off you the way you have in the past, like how you’ve done every time Chaeyoung or Seungkwan tried to offer their own well-meaning advice, but you know it’s different this time.

Because he’s not Chaeyoung or Seungkwan, and you can tell he’s not just saying empty words to lift your burdens. And maybe there are still the differences you’d felt since the moment you met him, his house still a nice place near the beach, the paint not old and peeling, his family never having to live paycheck to paycheck to make ends meet, but he understood you in the ways that mattered. There was love in his house, the pencil marks etched in his bedroom doorway echoing the marker flowers still kept on your living room walls from when you were 3.

When you look out the window, his reflection stares back at you as much as yours does, and you see it clearly now. His desire to return the love given to him, the same steady weight of home that’s been like an anchor to him, all this time. It’s in him as much as it is in you.

You wonder for the hundredth time tonight how you ended up in this position, nearly dying and then pouring out your feelings out to the person who saved you, the same boy you had sworn to yourself you would never think of fondly. But you find that in this small diner, with holes in its leather cushions and chips and scratches on the edges of your ceramic plate, yellow light warm in the beginning of a dark night, you’re almost glad it happened, if it meant it turned out like this.

“Thanks, Mingyu,” you say eventually, fingers wringing together in your lap. The AC thrums faintly in the background. “Really. That means a lot.”

He breathes a quiet sigh of relief, smiling at you. “Of course. Anytime.”

Smiling back, you finally take a bite of your sandwich left to settle into a room temperature on your plate. The lettuce and tomato has grown a little soggy from how long it’s had to sit wedged between the mayonnaise and sourdough, but you keep craving another bite after your last. You’re not sure if it’s because of how hungry you are, or if it’s the atmosphere that allows for it, but you enjoy the taste regardless.

It’s almost 11:00PM by the time you and Mingyu walk back to his car, ready to drive you back. It’s 11:20 when you arrive back at the beach parking lot, waving each other a goodbye that feels almost gentle, the way you linger by the half-open door of his truck before hopping out.

It’s 11:23 when you make your way back to your car, head resting on the steering wheel in the silence, that it finally clicks. A late night dinner. A heart-to-heart. You even saw his goddamn childhood photos.

Did you… just become friends with Kim Mingyu?

Before you fall asleep that night, you make a mental checklist of everything you need to do the next day.

Apologize to your parents. (They probably had to do damage control after you left, and your mom would most likely have to make snippy retorts to your aunt’s passive remarks for the rest of the year.)

Head to the beach to give back Mingyu’s shirt, freshly washed.

(VERY IMPORTANT!) Make sure everything that happened last night is kept tightly under wraps, lest your well-meaning (read: gossipy and overly interested) friends find out.

Only, when you wake up the next day, your carefully curated plans crumble in front of your eyes. Checking your phone for the first time since last night, you find it flooded with messages from Chaeyoung, Seungkwan, the group chat with Chaeyoung and Seungkwan—frantic, all caps, a few missed calls to add onto it. Scrolling further down the notifications, you also find a single desperate email that Seungkwan sent to you at 8AM. (Subject: WAKE UP!!!!)

Squinting, you open up the messages to see what the world-ending crisis plagued them this time. Two weeks ago, it was Chaeyoung’s Hinge match she’d ghosted after the first date spotted at Target, and the week before that, Seungkwan’s favorite breakfast place ran out of almond butter. Needless to say, the panic doesn’t really set in until you make out the letters M I N G Y U in the plethora of texts and your stomach drops.

Chaeyoung: Y/N EXPLAIN Chaeyoung: WHY WERE YOU HANGING OUT WITH MINGYU LAST NIGHT?!?!

Your eyes widen, rapidly sending a text back.

You: ??? who told you? Chaeyoung: YOU’RE AWAKE Chaeyoung: FINALLY Chaeyoung: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU WERE HIDING THIS THE ENTIRE TIME Chaeyoung: [sent photo]  [Seungkwan laughed at image] You: CHANGE MY CONTACT NAME BACK? Chaeyoung: BUT YOU’RE THE RIZZARD OF OZ…. [Seungkwan loved the message] 

Groaning, you dislike the message with a fervor and try to move onto another topic. 

You: ok can someone please tell me how you know about mingyu i just woke up and i’m not backreading Seungkwan: my cousin works at the diner Seungkwan: asked me why i didn’t tell her about mingyu’s cute new gf Seungkwan: lol

There’s a muffled scream that only your pillow ever hears. So much for taking this secret with you to the grave. Actually, maybe it wouldn’t be too late to start your funeral preparations now.

Chaeyoung: ok well. obviously we need to talk about this. Chaeyoung: secret hideout meeting in an hour!!!

And without any further argument,  you know that your fate is sealed, the final nail in the coffin. You can’t even find the energy to retort back how it’s not a ‘secret hideout meeting’ if all she was doing was barging in before your and Seungkwan’s scheduled work shift.

But regardless, here you were, an hour later, back at the shave ice shop sat at the tables with Seungkwan and Chaeyoung staring intently at you.

“So,” Seungkwan starts out, ignoring the slightly crazed look in Chaeyoung’s eyes as she nearly vibrates out of her seat. “Spill.”

You don’t even try to fight the headache incoming, pressing your fingers to your temples instead to appease the ache. “There’s not even anything to spill. I went out surfing last night, I let my guard down and I almost drowned.”

“What?” Seungkwan blurts out, his and Chaeyoung’s eyes widen simultaneously. “Are you okay? What happened?”

You wave them off with a tired smile. “I’m fine, I promise. Mingyu was there to save me.”

They both look at you with poorly concealed worry, running over your body to make sure nothing was amiss. But then, Chaeyoung interjects lightly. “So you fell in love because he was your knight in shining armor?”

Your face falls straight into your hands. “For the last time, we’re just friends! There’s nothing going between me and Min…”

When you raise your head to make eye contact with both of them to hammer in your point, the bell jingles as the door to the shop opens, and you meet eyes with the man himself.

“...Gyu,” you finish lamely. Speak of the devil.

Mingyu grins and waves. “Hey!”

Chaeyoung and Seungkwan whip their head from Mingyu to you and then back again, zeroing in on him. It suddenly feels like you’ve been dropped in a shark tank and—from the way the intensity of their gaze amplifies as they snap back to you—they’ve caught the scent of blood.  Wading through it, you smile and wave back casually, ignoring your friends mindlessly tapping on their phones, pretending that their ears weren’t twice as big trying to listen.

“Hey, Mingyu. I don’t know if you saw,” you jab your thumb at the window, “but we’re not open right now.”

He tilts his head, frowning. “Oh, really? That’s not what the sign out front says, though?” Mingyu points to the same window, the one that hangs a sign that says in big red letters, ‘CLOSED!’. You frown, brain whirring. If your side of the sign says ‘closed,’ that means that from the outside, it says…

“Seungkwan,” you call dryly.

Seungkwan shoots his head up, dropping his phone on the table. “Haha! Sorry, man!” he says, running past Mingyu to flip the sign over properly. “We’re closed!”

“But I thought—”

“We’ll be open in an hour,” Seungkwan interjects, flashing him a big thumbs up. “See you then!”

Mingyu looks at him quizzically, furrowing his brows in confusion, before responding with a slow, “Okay… See you in an hour then?”

All three of you nod at him, waving goodbye. Mingyu turns around to exit the store, and you almost breathe a sigh of relief. Sure, him appearing right as you were trying to convince your friends there was nothing going on between the two of you would put some extra work on your plate, but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. You’re just grateful that Mingyu didn’t act overly friendly and mention anything else that happened last night that would carry any innuendos, like—

“Oh, Y/N,” Mingyu says, right as the door opens. “About my shirt, don’t worry about it. You can just give it back to me whenever, it’s all good.”

Like that.

The door shuts with a short jingle. Chaeyoung and Seungkwan slowly turn back to you, mouths gaping. You feel like you just witnessed a bomb dropping in the distance and you’re left with the debris flying straight towards you.

You blink.  “I can explain.”

Seungkwan whips out his phone and immediately starts typing something in the search bar, while Chaeyoung leans over, hitting him enthusiastically on the arm, whispering loudly and rapidly. “Make sure to order the cake with custom frosting on the top! I’m thinking maybe in fancy cursive, ‘NOT BITCHLE—‘”

“Stop it!”

Needless to say, you return Mingyu’s shirt as soon as possible the next morning.

If this were Chaeyoung or even Seungkwan, you would have just thrown it in the wash with everything else at the end of the week, but this was different. The chaos that had happened after Mingyu left the shop and leftover cake in the back of your fridge (half-eaten, icing still managing to spell out the letters ‘N—T B —CHLE—’) had haunted you enough to be proof of that, so you cut your losses and piled in a premature load with scraps of other clothing around the house. If, by the end of the day, you had this wretched shirt off your hands, then it would be worth it.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you make your way to the beach. The absence of the surfboard atop your car was something you were still trying to get used to, but you try to tell yourself that it’ll get better eventually. That one day, maybe you’ll walk by your car and not have your eyes linger at that empty spot at all.

When you finally get to the beach, Mingyu is sitting at his regular spot at the lifeguard tower: binoculars hanging from his neck, sunglasses resting on his head, shirtless—just like always. Everything is normal. Nothing has to be weird.

“Mingyu!” you call, waving. He glances down somewhere in your general direction before his gaze finally catches on you, grinning the second he realizes who it is.

“Hey!” he greets brightly. “What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much, just—” you take his neatly folded shirt out of your bag, holding it up so he can see. “I wanted to return this.”

Mingyu’s mouth opens slightly, a silent ‘ah’ forming on his lips before he waves you over cheerily. “Come on up!”

Instinctively, your response is to politely but firmly decline. After all, the last time you were up in that tower wasn’t exactly something you remembered fondly, and you didn’t want to be more of a bother to Mingyu than you already have been. You couldn’t stay for long anyway, so you try to deflect subtly.

“Oh, are you sure? I can just leave it—”

“Y/N…”

Even from a distance, his earnest concern in the gentle insistence makes it hard to say no. So you sigh, admit defeat once again, and respond with a single, “Okay.”

It’s how you find yourself up in that lifeguard tower once again, stepping cautiously past the bags lined against the wall, filled to the brim with miscellaneous supplies. Now that it was brighter, you could see what was in the tower better: the Hydroflask sporting a few dents on his desk next to a walkie talkie station and landline, an old safety protocol manual with its age shown in the sun-bleached pages, a big megaphone laying near the edge of it.

The place looked different in the daylight, none of the quiet intimacy that you had felt when you were here last. The sounds of waves crashing on the shore and families playing on the beach ring out in the air—children laughing as they chase each other around, the crackling of the charcoal as a family grills meat by the picnic tables further down. That night, it had just been you and Mingyu and the weight of everything you still couldn’t face, but now in the sun, the cold sea-chilled wind was now the warmth of daylight on your skin, all the things you had taken for granted given to you again.

“Thanks for the shirt,” you say, holding it out in front of you. “I feel like I didn’t say it enough when you let me borrow it.”

Mingyu laughs, running a hand through his hair while his other hand takes the shirt from you. “Seriously, it was no problem. You could have kept it if you wanted, you know.” 

He says it jokingly, but the implication of the words has your heart stuttering for a split second before you breathe out a slight laugh, pulling your hand back. “No, I’m good. But thanks.”

“What, you weren’t a fan?” Mingyu places the shirt inside his bag, careful not to mess up the folding you’d already done. “And here I thought everyone would have been honored to show off that they were ‘Raised On Rice’...”

You give him a lighthearted chuckle. “You know, I’m afraid I can’t say the same.”

Mingyu turns his head and hits his chest once, with feeling, exaggerated dismay written all over his face. “That hurt. Right here.”

You follow the motion, about to roll your eyes at his dramatics, but all of a sudden your eyes are lingering a little too long to be normal. Or appropriate.

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

MIngyu tilts his head, blinking, before the corners of his lips turn up slightly. “I dunno, I kinda liked you in it though.”

What the hell. What the actual hell.

“Do you say that to a lot of girls?” you manage, still trying to navigate your way back to normalcy. You were not doing this with Kim Mingyu, of all people.

Mingyu shrugs. “You’re the only one I’ve ever given my shirt to.”

You were so not doing this with Kim Mingyu! Except you are, and you have been this entire time, and you can practically hear the echoes of Chaeyoung cackling as the devil on your shoulder.

“Okay, well,” you grind out, praying desperately to swat away any memories surfacing where you’d heard other girls squeal about his glistening, defined muscles, or the swim shorts that sometimes rode a little too low on his waist, or the—Chaeyoung’s voice starts to meld in with your thoughts—idea of him having to perform CPR and giving mouth-to-mouth— “I have a shift soon, so I have to go, but I’ll see you around. Thanks again for the shirt.”

“Hey.” 

You stop mid-swivel and turn around slowly, peering up at him. His eyes shine too sincere for you to look away. “I’m serious, it was no big deal. I’d do it any time.”

Not just the shirt, you know he means, but everything that happened that night. The invitation to a safe place, the warmth of the diner, the way he had sat there with his hands cupped ready to catch everything you had spilled out. Heart lodging in your throat, you swallow hard before you respond. “Yeah, um. Same for you—if you ever wanna talk about anything.” 

“Of course,” he grins, the ‘thank you’ you’d almost tacked on at the end of your sentence understood without being said. “What are friends for?”

Before that night, you might have just brushed it off with a polite and restrained agreement and never thought about it again. ‘Friend’ had always been a loose word—maybe ‘former classmate’ or ‘acquaintance’ would have been better fitting to describe what Mingyu was to you. But now, as you stand in the middle of the lifeguard tower, the subtle scent of smoke from the family barbeque floating in the air, a mesh of different music from various speakers playing quietly alongside the chatter of ordinary beachgoers, you’re sincere when you answer.

“Right,” you smile back at him, warm. “Friends.”

You turn the knob to your front door carefully, entering your house with small steps. The lights to the living room were off, the kitchen was quiet, two pairs of shoes were still missing from the rack at the front.

Your parents weren’t home yet. You almost let out an audible sigh of relief.

It’s not as if you wanted to avoid them, but ever since the party, there was something a little awkward hanging in the air that none of you knew how to navigate. They didn’t want to be the ones to bring it up first, and you could never find the right time to talk about it—your parents both working long hours during the day and coming back home with aches in their necks and a plethora of new things to stress over. You just didn’t want to add onto the load of things they already had to think about.

Your mom had tried approaching you the night you came back, gently asking where you had gone and where your board was, but there wasn’t much to tell her, really. You’d settled for a short, ‘I went surfing and it broke,’ and left it at that; they already knew you were quitting, it wasn’t like telling them why your board broke was going to make any difference.

Setting your bag down on the couch, you shuffle into the kitchen in your house slippers and start prepping for dinner. If your parents weren’t home by now, that meant they would both be out until late evening today, which also meant it was better to just make something small for yourself for a meal. 

(The more you think about it, the better it sounds to just leave that night in the past. It would all smooth over soon enough, and you’re certain things will fall back to their normal rhythm well before you have to leave. Keeping it bottled up neatly inside of yourself, it was cleanest this way. It was fine—it would all be fine.)

But after you finish rifling through your fridge for ingredients, after you shut the door with a resonating snap, the old photo stuck to the front of the door stares back at you. Your dad had insisted on taking it in commemoration of your first time surfing—you, gap-toothed and smiling brightly in the middle, and your parents, grinning proudly with their arms wrapped around you.

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

At the very least, you wanted to be a daughter that wouldn’t misplace their trust, someone who wouldn’t keep them waiting forever. You owe that to them; you owe that to the little girl you used to be. It’s why you needed to tell them everything.

(Though, that was easier said than done. If it were really that simple, you would have done it by now.)

You know if you try stalling and plan for the next day then you’ll keep stalling and never actually do it, so when your parents come home that night, you attempt to rip the bandaid off all at once. You ask them if they have time to talk and that you need to tell them something, but when they immediately agree, you worry far too late that you’d ripped that bandaid off before you were ready.

“So, that cake in the fridge,” you start, wringing your hands together. The granite counter is cool against your skin as you lean against it, grounding you in the middle of the kitchen.  “It was pretty good, right? Chaeyoung and Seungkwan said that it was the best they could find at the grocery store, especially since it was so last minute.”

Your parents give each other a confused look before nodding slowly, letting you ease into it without rushing. You’re not even sure where to go from here, if you should tell them only the necessary parts of the truth or lay down everything insignificant as well.  Maybe if you just kept talking, it would come out eventually.

“It’s funny actually,” you continue, palms clammy. “The only reason they got me that cake is because they think I’m dating Mingyu—I’m not, don’t worry! They’re just trying to be funny about it because he and I have gotten close recently. I mean I get why, I’ve been going on and on about how Mingyu working at the beach has made it a lot busier recently and for some reason I just kept seeing him around this summer and—”

“Y/N.”

Your breath catches. “Yeah, Mom?”

“Is this…about the party last week?” Your mom begins to take a step forward, but it doesn’t become more than a slight shuffle of her feet. “Because if it is, I’m the first person to agree that your aunt went too far last time! Don’t worry, we made sure to give her a good talking to after you left.” 

She nudges your dad lightly to back her up, but at his startled nod, your mom shoots him a dirty look before continuing. “Really, you would expect at her big age she’d know what’s appropriate to say and what isn’t! Your uncles came to your defense too, so everyone’s on your side! We made sure to chew her out real good, so you don’t need to talk about it anymore if you don’t want to—”

“No,” you interject. “No, it’s not that it’s…”

You could have taken the offer—and maybe a few days ago, you would have. Let your parents brush off whatever happened that night and leave it in the past, allow it to wash away into the tide with the waves. But they deserved to know; it was now or never.

“That night, I went to the beach.” Your words come out static. “And I tried surfing, and I wiped out so badly that my board broke because I wasn't thinking straight when I swam out.”

Your mom opens her mouth to say something with furrowed brows, probably something along the lines of ‘You should have told me if it was that serious,’ but your dad beats her to the chase. “Why did you go out then?” He has an instinctual scolding born from worry on the tip of his tongue; it was one of the very first things he’d ever taught you, before you even got on the board. “You’re not a child anymore, you should have known better—”

“I know.” Your fists clench at your side as you try to fight the shame that threatens to boil back up inside of you. “I know, it was stupid and a rookie mistake and something I shouldn’t have ever done, but—” Your voice breaks off. “I told you I wasn’t going to surf anymore.”

There’s a confused silence, one where you can’t gather the courage to look at their faces. “It’s not because I didn’t want to keep surfing, it’s because I felt like I had to stop.”

“Y/N, what—”

“I—” you interrupt. You have to get it out or you’ll never get a chance like this again, clumsy as your words may be. “I just—I don’t—” 

Pressure builds at the back of your nose and eyes as you try to fumble your way around the words, vision blurring. “I just wanted to make you proud.”

Your gaze locks onto the kitchen floor, nails digging into your palms. “I’ve only ever wanted to make you proud, and I know raising me wasn’t easy, and I wanted to pay you back for everything you’ve ever done for me. And I figured—” God, it sounds so stupid when you say it out loud, but how else could you say it? This was how you’d felt for the past four years. “If I gave up surfing to only focus on school, then maybe—I don’t know—” (fuck it, you’ve already made it this far.) “Then maybe all your sacrifices wouldn’t be wasted on me.”

There’s a beat of silence, one where your mom takes in a shaky gasp of air and your dad goes quiet, previous anger already forgotten. For a moment, it all feels like a mistake, something you can never take back. 

(But then again, it was better this way, wasn’t it? Like it was a necessary kind of hurting—to cleanse the wound, to feel it once and then let it heal for good.)

“You know we’d be proud of you no matter what you do,” your dad says, finally. He places a hand on your mom’s shoulder, to which your mom nods and touches her hand to his. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all we could ask for.”

The night in the diner comes back to you in brief flashes, Mingyu’s words echoing in your head. At the time, you had let it wash over you, a small warmth you’d allowed yourself to indulge briefly in the night, but it sinks in now, pooling in the pit of your stomach. He was right—of course he was. 

“Besides,” your dad says, joking, “if you really quit, then the real waste would have been all that money we put into surfing lessons when you were a kid—ow!”

Your mom jabs him sharply with her elbow, hissing out his name in a low voice. “What he means to say,” she intervenes, taking a step forward, “is that we would have done it all over again, because it was all for you.” Warm hands cup your face as your mom slowly raises your head to meet her eyes. She gives you a watery smile, brushing away the wetness on your cheeks with her thumbs. “We’re your parents, Y/N. Nothing could ever be a waste.”

Your dad places a hand on your shoulder, and you shift your blurry eyes onto him. He gives you a warm smile and a slight squeeze, and gestures his head to the door. “Come with me.”

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” he starts, taking out the flashlight in the drawer. Walking towards the backdoor, he twists the knob and waits for you and your mom to follow, turning on the bright beam of the flashlight as he leads the way outside.

Your mom nods beside you, her hand in yours. You furrow your brows in confusion, realizing they were leading you towards the backyard shed. “We had a whole plan, you know! Complete with balloons and confetti and even a nice bow to stick on top of it.”

Unlocking the shed, your dad holds the door wide open, motioning for you to enter first. “We were hoping to give this to you at the grad party, but then after everything happened, but well…” Your mom ushers you in. “That party didn’t exactly go as planned either.”

“What are you guys talking about—”

The flashlight flicks onto the wall of the shed, and your question is cut short at the sight: a surfboard, brand new and unwaxed, its surface smooth and shining.

“When…” you gape. “When did you—“

“Like we said,” your dad answers, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, “we bought it as a graduation gift. Before everything went down, obviously.”

“And,” your mom continues gently, “if you still decide to leave surfing behind when you go to school, we can always just keep it safe here—for when you come back.”

You wonder if it was always this simple, if you’d agonized over your dreams and your future and your own happiness for so long without even considering that you didn’t need to let one or the other go. All the pieces you’ve been desperately trying to not let spill out of your hands finally click into place, gently, and the realization makes you feel so silly you almost want to start crying again.

“Okay,” you sniffle, pulling both your parents into a hug. It’s almost like you were that little girl again, sand stuck to your damp skin, sea water dripping from your hair, running into her parents’ arms after a long day. Stable, safe, warm. “I’ll keep surfing.”

The rest of summer passes by in a blink of an eye.

After everything that happened the past month, you were grateful that the rest of your days at home were spent peacefully—afternoons working with Seungkwan at the shave ice shop, sleepovers with Chaeyoung where she tries to fit in a whole week’s worth activities into a single weekend, nights spent with your parents in the living room, T.V. playing in the background as you indulge in what little Family Movie Nights you have left. 

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

“What are you thinking about?”

“Hm?” You turn, tilting your head at the boy on the board next to you. “Nothing, really—why?”

Mingyu points at the dip between his brows, furrowing it in imitation. “You get this look on your face when you’re thinking too hard.”

“I do not!”

“Seungkwan and Chaeyoung can attest!”

You reach down to splash him with water, rolling your eyes at the yelp he lets out at the sudden attack. “Don’t even start with them.”

“I’m not even—” Mingyu starts, but shrinks away at the threatening look in your eye as you dip your hand into the water again. “You were thinking about something though.”

Sighing, you retract your hand. Mingyu visibly relaxes. “Just thinking about all the things I still have to pack when I get home.”

“You’re leaving tomorrow morning, right?”

You hum, nodding your head. “It’s an early flight and we have to get everything ready by tonight, so this is my last fun stop of the day.”

Mingyu leans back, water sloshing with the shift in weight. “You’re not hanging out with Seungkwan or Chaeyoung later?”

“I already saw them yesterday,” you reply, exasperated. “They tried getting me another cake but I put them on a cake ban because of what happened last time.”

He looks at you quizzically. “What happened last time?”

“That’s not important.” Clearing your throat, you redirect the conversation. “Anyway, why do you ask?”

“Seungkwan told me they wanted to throw one last surprise goodbye party.” Mingyu pauses. “Well, I guess it’s not really a surprise anymore.”

“Seungkwan just wants another excuse to throw a party where he can smuggle in alcohol,” you point out. “Besides, they’ve thrown me like, five this summer.”

Mingyu laughs. “Come on, I’m sure that’s not all there is to it. You know how he is, maybe he just wants to make the most of your time left and give you a goodbye you’ll remember. He’s really proud of you—you know that.”

After all, you were the only one leaving, really. Seungkwan was attending the local college on top of helping out at the family business on weekends, and even though Chaeyoung had decided to move back to another island, she was still attending the state school there. Seungkwan had induced quite the ruckus when you’d opened the acceptance letters together, complaining about how you were both leaving him to this boring town with his little shave ice shop as only companion. (And then a few weeks later, he’d given you one of the pineapple plushies they had on display at shop so that you could bring it to California without missing home.)

Your shoulders slump in defeat, half-heartedly kicking your leg under the water. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“But the alcohol is probably a big reason too,” Mingyu adds.

You point at him triumphantly. “See!”

The tide picks up slightly, bobbing both of you gently with the water. A couple miles away, the waves crash on the rocks near the cliffs, just close enough to hear the ebb and flow of water on the shore. This far out, there was only you and Mingyu.

“After you leave,” Mingyu says, cutting through the low roar of the ocean, “that means we can’t do this anymore.” His voice carries an underlying hesitancy that you haven’t heard since that night of the diner, and instinctually, you go to deflect.

“You make it sound like I’m leaving forever,” you tease gently, but you know what he’s trying to say. It wouldn’t be the same.

(After you had received your new board, you’d gone almost immediately to tell Mingyu the good news. In turn, he’d invited you to come surfing whenever there was a high tide at sunrise on Saturdays, something that eventually settled into just sunrises on Saturday instead, regardless of the tide. It was why you were out in the water this morning, even without the waves—a habit that still clings strong.)

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, droplets falling as he shakes his head a little. “Do you even know how many Saturdays are between now and when you come back? It’ll just be me during sunrises again… all alone…”

“You’re starting to sound just like Seungkwan.”

Mingyu counters with a single sad look resembling a sopping wet dog. You roll your eyes.

“Well, what are you going to do?” you ask. “You have a whole year before you go back to school.”

Mingyu contemplates, humming. “I’ve been thinking about traveling—see the world a little before I come back here and decide on anything else.”

You tilt your head, light glistening off the surface of the water. “Really? And go where?”

He shrugs. “Who knows? Australia, Korea, maybe I’ll  even go backpacking through Europe.” Mingyu stops, a teasing look in his eye. “Why, is there any place you want me to go?”

Your breath hitches, clamping your mouth shut. “I mean, not really, I was just—you know. I just thought…”

Mingyu props a finger to his chin and nods sagely, pondering far too long to be sincere. “I did hear California was nice… But it all depends.”

You eye him warily. “On what?”

“If you’ll let me.”

Fighting the initial swoop of your stomach, you stop and try to think realistically. Mingyu would be the same no matter where he went, and when you imagine what it would be like if Mingyu brought his earnest local boy charm over to the mainland, your nose wrinkles. It was already bad enough on your small island, but the image of his crowd of fangirls multiplying and spreading even more gossip about the new ‘hottie in town’ makes your head hurt just thinking about it. Maybe it was best if you waited until Christmas to go sunrise surfing with him again.

Mingyu thumbs the space between your brows and furrows his to mirror you, and you slap a hand over your forehead. “Oh, so you don’t want me in California?”

Your face burns, chest flushing as you whip your head back. “You are so annoying!”

You move to splash him again, but when you meet his eyes, expectation glows so sincere it makes you stop. Briefly, you wonder if the entire reason Mingyu presses so hard is because he knows it would be the only way for you to be honest about your feelings, especially concerning him. (On the other hand, he could just enjoy watching you squirm. It was probably a little bit of both. So annoying.)

“Well,” you mumble, turning your head to the other side. You try to test the words on your tongue, but it all comes out sickeningly sentimental and sweet no matter how you phrase it. “It wouldn’t be the worst. If you came to visit.”

Mingyu nudges you so suddenly you almost topple off your board, water splashing as you flounder to regain your balance. He wears a dopey grin, even as he grabs onto your arm again to stabilize you—cheeky and victorious, like he just caught the biggest catch of the day. “You should have just said so from the beginning!”

“For the surf!” you sputter, still recovering. Maybe a small dunk in the water would cool you off quicker. “I meant for the surf, don’t be ridiculous—”

Mingyu’s grin gets even wider, and even as you fumble for more excuses, you know nothing you can say would really help. He’d latched onto the truth, and no amount of water you tried to drown it under would ever make him let go. 

“So I’ll see you again?” Mingyu asks, and even with the teasing glint still left in his eyes, the sunlight in his eyes sparkles earnest.

There wasn’t much out here this early in the day, just the ocean and each other—and despite the embarrassment that floods your body, maybe you didn’t mind it all that much. The way it was just you and him.

“For the surf,” you repeat, tacking it on at the end of your nod, but the smile Mingyu gives you knows otherwise. Yeah. You didn’t mind that at all.

It’s the small, unexpected things you’ll miss when you leave: the sun-sated and salty skin, not just the paddle out to the open ocean and riding the wave, but the rush that comes from the return to shore, wanting to do it all again. A place you’ll always belong, no matter where you go. But really—

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

—you think you’ll miss Kim Mingyu the most.

[brittscafe]

hiii! i really really really like REALLY loved your content, especially jjk ones bcs it helps me A LOT with my sadness while watching S2 lolll

can i request a fic?? nanami x fem!reader - reader starts overthinking about their relay with nanami that seemed distant rn bcs nanami always comes back home late with his constant overtime BUT nanami doesn't notice about it. so, one night there's just an argument about this and nanami accidentally slips off 'i never ask you to stay with me' in which hurts reader A LOT - eventually leads nanami to his realization and they finally make up when they're about to sleep (nanami saying sorry while hugging from behind and asking reader to snuggle with him)

i'm sorry if there's too much angst 😭 and i'm sorry if there are grammatical errors since eng isn't my first language 🙏🏻 but i really hope you will take this into consideration hehe

Hi! Thank you!!! <3 Really missing Nanami rn 😩 Sorry, this literally took me forever to writeeee

Nanami Kento is the hardest worker you know. He's always staying late at work and doing overtime. He doesn't seem to notice how it effects you though.

The endless nights you stay awake, sitting at the counter and your foot repeatedly tapping the ground below your, your right leg shaking rapidly.

The nervous build up in your stomach that makes you nauseous and your head spin. Of course, Nanami always comes home to you, but he's distant and you can't hide the way you feel any longer.

The front door clicks open and Nanami's tall figure walks inside, a deadpan expression on his face.

"Hey Nanami...can we talk?" you speak up quietly. Nanami's eyes meet yours for a split second and his breath hitches in his throat.

"Sure," he nods his head, setting his suitcase down. You shift your weight in the chair that you're sitting in and clear your throat.

"I have to be honest, I'm a little upset with you. You constantly work overtime and I stay up all night waiting up for you," you sigh out and Nanami cocks an eyebrow.

"You don't have to wait up for me. I've told you that multiple times, y/n. You know that I work late," Nanami explains with a firm voice that brings you little to no comfort.

"I know, but I feel like I'm being treated unfairly. I wish you would spend more time with me after work, especially since I spend most of mine time here alone. It's not fair," you explain, a frown tugging on your face.

Nanami shifts his weight and crosses his arms over his chest.

"I never asked you to stay with me." his words are cruel and cut into your feelings like a sharp knife. Your eyes widen and your mouth gapes open.

Wow.

You stare at Nanami in disbelief and the tears start to well up in your eyes. You tear your gaze away from Nanami and lower your head down, trying to swallow your hurt.

"Ok," you mumble out underneath your breath, walking off and into your bedroom.

Nanami blinks with confusion and clears his throat, shaking it off as he sits down on the couch. His mind ponders on what he did wrong as he chews on his bottom lip.

A heavy sigh falls from his lips and he runs his fingers through his hair with frustration.

An hour or so passes and it's bedtime. The door clicks open to your shared bedroom and Nanami's eyes lock onto you in your pjs. You glance over at him over your shoulder as you pull back the comforter.

The room is silent and Nanami clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth.

"Y/n," he calls out, his voice barely above a whisper. You easily hear his voice, but ignores it. Nanami steps closer to you, clearing his throat.

"Y/n," he speaks again, this time his voice louder and clearer. You glance over at him, curling the comforter up in your fists and letting out an annoyed sigh.

"What?" you mumble out.

"I didn't mean what I said earlier. It just slipped out," Nanami speaks calmly and you chew on your bottom lip.

"I thought you didn't want me to stay with you," you scoff quietly, scowling back at him. Nanami face drops and he shakes his head, wrapping his arms around your waist.

He pulls your back into your chest and nuzzles his head onto your shoulder. You can feel his warm breath on your neck and it sends a chill down your spine.

"I'm sorry, my dear. I do want you to stay with me. I promise," he speaks softly, his voice comforting you. You release the tight grip that you have on the comforter and grab onto Nanami's forearms.

"Ok," you nod your head.

"Do you forgive me? Please? You know I can't go to bed without you," Nanami begs you, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. You giggle as his lips tickle your skin and the sound of your laughter makes Nanami's lips curl up into a tiny grin.

"Yes, I forgive you, Kento. Come here," you whisper, spinning around and gathering him in your arms. Nanami's arms wrap around your back and flatten against them.

You run your fingers through his blonde hair, massaging his scalp as you two fall back into the bed. Nanami's legs are spread out across the bed as he lays on top of you, his head resting on your chest.

He listens to the rhythm of your steady heartbeat as you warm hands running up and down his back make his eyelids heavy.

He's so thankful for you and that you spend so much time with you and staying up late.

Nanami asks you to move in with him a few days later...

[berryhobii]

Late for Work couple has become my #1 comfort couple and i always come back a read their stories cuz they're just so in love and passionate abt each other and OC/reader is so me coded. ur writing literally makes me weak in the knees i get so emoooo 😭😭💜 can i request a New Years (resolution) drabble with them? either OC or JK wants to work out more or tweak their habits at the gym for New years and i wonder if you could incorporate THIS REEL somewhere cuz i thought this was so them?!!? fluff or smutty smut smut!!! ty ty ty 💜💜

https://www.instagram.com/reel/C1BLk1PIu-j/?igsh=MWZ0YWRtcnd4Zndwaw==

even tho i feel like both of them are the type to NOT wait for the "New Year" just to get started on their goals i thought it would be cute!!!

Hi! Wow, I’m so happy you love that couple! I try my best to make them as lovey dovey as possible. Thanks so much for your request as well! I pondered a few ideas but then landed on this one! Also, that reel is so adorable and overprotective Jungkook is equally as adorable. Enjoy and please tell me what you think!

~

Super cute gym bag? Check. FitBit to monitor your heart rate? Check. Your ONE Stanley cup because you didn’t need a thousand? Check.

Alright. You were ready to hit the gym.

Truthfully, neither you or Jungkook were the types to do resolutions. Both of your perfectionist and ambitious ways made it so if either of you wanted to do something, you’d do it. And you’d do it to the best of your ability.

You started working out a little bit during December, enjoying early morning jogs before work in the crisp air to get you pumped for the day. However, you haven’t really dedicated yourself to a complete workout regimen.

That’s where your husband came in.

He didn’t make resolutions either but he did want to start spending more time with you and the gym was a great place to start. So you suggested you two start working out together and he could have broken something from how fast he catapulted himself over the couch when you brought it up.

Since your husband was a certified gym rat, he was very excited about your interest in working out. It was no secret that he was obsessed with going to the gym; he always dedicated at least 2 hours a day to pumping iron and if he couldn’t go to the gym, he’d go jogging or do some exercise at home. He was dedicated to keeping his body fit and healthy, mostly for himself but also for you. He knew how much you loved his body and it definitely stroked his ego to see how you drooled over him.

While Jungkook drooled over you regardless, you still wanted to work out and maybe even spend some extra time with Jungkook. A couple’s workout sounded like a lot of fun to you, honestly.

“Ready to go, baby?” Jungkook asked once he entered the living room where you were tying up your braids into a ponytail.

You smiled at him, nodding your head. “Yup! How do I look?” You gave him a little twirl, showing off your new leggings and the matching jacket.

Of course, his eyes went straight to your ass which looked extra plump in those pants. A part of him didn’t even want to leave the house, contemplating just bending you over and fucking you against the wall.

You looked so excited to go though and he didn’t want to rain on your parade. Pushing down his desire, he flashed you a smile.

“You look adorable.”

“Thank you. Now let’s go! I’m totally going to bench more than you.” You teased as you two walked out of your apartment.

He bellowed a laugh. “Yeah right. You get winded walking up the stairs.”

Pouting your lip, you playfully pushed him. “That was only because my legs were tired from riding you.”

His lip piercing sparkled as he flashed you a wolfish grin, one that sent shivers down your spine. You seriously thought about getting in a quickie in before leaving.

“Guess we’ll have to work on your stamina then.”

“Oh yeah? I’ll show you my stamina when we get back home.” You childishly fired back sticking your tongue out at him.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

When was leg day again?

The drive to the gym was quick and checking in was even quicker. After putting your things away in a locker, you and Jungkook found an empty space to start stretching in.

“Let’s start with toe touches.” Jungkook instructed with a clap of his hands.

“Okay!” Inhaling a deep breath, you bent over to touch your toes. Easy enough. Then you felt a hand on your back, urging you to straighten it a bit.

“Don’t hold your breath.” He said, his warm palm sneaking up the back of your jacket. Heat spread across your body. Damn fat ma! Not right now!

After enough of that, you two moved into more stretches: arm circles, lunges, jumping jacks and a few more. Jungkook stretched alongside you, only stopping to guide you through whenever he saw your form was off.

Overall, exercising with Jungkook was a bunch of fun. He was an attentive workout partner, reminding you to stay hydrated and motivating you whenever you wanted to give up. Not to mention, watching him get all sweaty was a bonus. He had abandoned his hoodie a while ago, leaving him in a tank top that showed off those muscular arms and bulging pecs.

You were gonna swallow his cock like a python when you got home.

For now though, you were focused on getting in some good squats while Jungkook moved just a few feet away to go fill his water bottle back up. He made sure you remained in his eyesight at all times, heart warming at the sight of you being so focused. He was so happy you had come with him to participate in one of his favorite interest. It really showed him how invested you were in his life and his hobbies. He hoped this could continue and you two would spend even more time together.

Also, your ass looked fine as hell in those leggings. It jiggled everytime you came back up and it made him want to rip those pants right off you.

Oh yeah, you were definitely coming to the gym with him more often.

Just as he finished filling his water, he turned around to start his walk back to you, only to pause when his eyes caught something.

A man was coming from the other side of the room, walking straight towards you, his eyes focused clearly on your ass as you bent forward.

Jungkook knew you were gorgeous which meant people often tried to approach you. His overprotective nature never allowed people to get too close, however. You could handle yourself and he knew that, he trusted you completely and never doubted your loyalty to him.

That didn’t mean he trusted others though.

Quickly walking towards you, his feet taking long strides to get to you faster, he stopped at your side just as you were coming back up from a squat. Jungkook immediately wrapped his arm around you, leaning down to place a kiss on your lips. Never one to turn down a kiss, you reciprocated, laying a few more on his lips for good measure.

His eyes locked with the man who was approaching you, brow furrowing and eyes sending a message that said:

Try it if you want to

The man’s eyes widened, turning back around on the heels of his feet to scamper off somewhere else.

Ever so unsuspecting, you turned around to see what your husband was looking at, only to find nothing. You placed your weight down, removing the AirPod from your ear to ask him what was wrong.

He just squinted his eyes before finally looking at you, sending you his sweetest smile.

“Nothing baby. Let’s just finish up so we can go home.”

And because you trusted him so much, you just shrugged and nodded. “Okay. Let me do this final rep and then we can go.”

“Sure. Let me help you.”

Getting behind you, he ‘guided’ you through the squats. Although you didn’t really need the help, the feeling of his boner pressing into your ass was telling enough.

“I wouldn’t call this helping, coach.” You smirked, making sure to rub your ass harder against him when you went down.

“I would. 5 more.”

~

“J-Jungkook!” You moaned, your hands slipping off the wall where you were bracing yourself as Jungkook pounded into you from behind.

He barely let you cool down from your workout before he was forcing you into the gym showers, pushing you into one of the spaces and turning on the water. It was obvious you didn’t come in here to wash yourselves, judging by how quick he was on his knees and attaching his greedy mouth to your clit. Both legs thrown over his shoulders and your back pushed against the cold wall, he devoured your cunt like it was the last time he’d ever taste it.

Since it was so late at night, the gym was practically empty which meant no one was there to disturb you. Then again, it was only 35 minutes until closing so you didn’t have a lot of time before an employee came to check for any stragglers.

But that was all the time Jungkook needed.

Hands digging into the juiciness of your ass, he forced you back and forth on his cock, the tip hitting you so deep that you were sure he was rearranging your guts.

Your knees shook from the force, still a little weak from the orgasm he just ripped out of you from eating you out. Now another one was steadily building, ready to spill over like a full glass.

He couldn’t take his eyes off the recoil on your ass. He didn’t know if immediate results from squats was a thing(you sure acted like it was) but for some reason, your ass looked even better as it clapped against his pelvis.

“Fuck baby. This ass….” He groaned, swiftly bringing his hand down on it. The water caused it to sting even more but you loved it.

“Make me cum, Kookie.” You whined and who was he to deny?

His hips continued his rough pace, hands molding and squeezing at your ass as if it was a block of clay. As his head rolled to the side in pleasure, his eyes saw something, a mischievous grin that you couldn’t see spreading across his face.

Grabbing your body wash, he flipped open the cap. You were so lost in the sauce that you didn’t even hear it, too focused on the feeling of his cock jabbing into your soft spot.

Then you felt the cold gel hit your skin, a squeak of shock coming from you. You tried to turn your head to see what Jungkook was doing, only to drop it when he readjusted himself to start hitting your spot repeatedly.

“Ooooo…fuck!”

Jungkook’s wet hands rubbed the soap all around, lathering it up all across your ass until the brown of your skin was covered in soapy bubbles. “Throw it back, baby.”

Using your arms as leverage, you tossed your ass back on him as hard as you could, the clapping noises drowning out the pounding water against the tile. It was too hot and hard to breathe but neither of you cared enough to stop, those delicious highs just over the hill. Your legs burned from your workout and you knew you’d be properly sore tomorrow but the feeling of Jungkook’s cock was just too good. You’d pop some IcyHot patches on later.

“I’m bout to cum, baby.” You cried, reaching a hand back to grip one of your soapy ass cheeks. Jungkook’s hot gaze followed the bubbles as they dripped down the crack and around his cock.

He was about to cum. Hard.

Reaching out to grab your shoulder, other hand still on your ass, he drove his cock into you so fast that the seat of your ass actually hurt from how hard his pelvic bones were hitting it.

Your orgasm hit before his, your mouth dropping open in a drawn out moan as fervid pleasure rushed down your back. Jungkook still didn’t stop as you came, a second orgasm hitting you right after the first. Your knees buckled inward from the pure force but Jungkook kept you balanced, thrusting a few more times before he reached his own peak.

“Ahhh….” He groaned, filling you to the hilt as his creamy cum painted thick ropes inside you.

After regaining your breaths, Jungkook helped you stand on your weak knees. You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck to place a smooch on his lips.

“My legs hurt.” You sighed.

“Told you you have bad stamina. Ow! That hurt!” He cried, rubbing the spot where you pinched him.

“Don’t push it, Jeon. Now let’s go home so I can rest my legs.”

“But I thought you said you’d show me your stamina when we got- ow!”

[wordsarelife]

—the very first night

pairing: anthony lockwood x gn!reader

summary: you celebrate your birthday for your friends only, lockwood celebrates your birthday for you

warnings: mentions of a bad home life

note: first, happy belated birthday and sorry it took me so long to finish your request, but here it is, finally!!

“—happy birthday dear y/n, happy birthday to you!!”

you blew out the candles in front of you, your friends laughing joyfully and hugging you.

lucy and george got out plates and were too busy chopping the cake into four pieces to notice you and lockwood looking at each other. he send you a smile and you smiled back, despite not really being in the mood to eat cake and celebrate your birthday.

you could do this for them. it was only one day, what did it matter?

george had taken the whole day before this to bake the cake and was now proudly serving it to you. how could you even think about not eating it? his eyes were gleaming and it broke your heart just to think about telling him the truth.

the truth was, to put it plainly that you had always hated to celebrate your birthday. you couldn't even say why. it just was a day that you would rather spend alone in your room crying than socialize.

but these were your friends, your family. how could you deny them something that made them so happy? you just couldn't.

after each of your had finished the piece of cake in front of you, george and lucy went into the living room, setting up a game for you all to play together.

lockwood and you stayed behind in the kitchen, washing the dishes.

"i can see that you aren't enjoying yourself"

"what?" you looked up from the plate in your hand

lockwood leaned closer to you, whispering "you've been scrubbing that plate for the last four minutes"

"oh" you quickly put it down so he could dry it

"you'd rather not celebrate, huh?"

you shook your head and lockwood nodded. "i thought so" he dried up the last plate. "think you can do it for one more hour?"

you nodded and he smiled. you followed him into the living room, owning up to what he had asked you. you played a game of cards, uno then some charades. about an hour later, lockwood excused the both of you.

it wasn't as late as you had thought, but the sun had still gone down, by the time lockwood took you out of the house.

the way wasn't long, only to the little garden behind the house, setting down a picknick blanket and a small lantern.

"what are we doing?" you asked intrigued

"watching the stars" he sat down on the blanket and patted the spot next to him

you settled down beside lockwood on the soft blanket, the cool night air wrapping around you. above, the stars glittered like scattered diamonds against the dark sky.

lockwood reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box. "happy birthday, y/n," he said

you both lay back on the blanket, gazing up at the stars. The silence between you was comfortable, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

"you know," lockwood broke the silence, "birthdays are a strange thing. for some, they're a reason to celebrate, and for others, it's a day they'd rather forget. why is it that you fall into the second category"

you pondered his question "when i grew up, birthdays were never a special thing. you didn't accomplish anything, why should that be celebrated" you trailed off, glancing at the stars. "but tonight, it feels different."

lockwood nodded in understanding, "i'm sorry they made you feel like that"

"don't be" you shook your head "i have it a lot better now"

lockwood smiled "sometimes, all you need is a break from the usual"

the two of you continued to stargaze, losing track of time as the night unfolded around you. the weight of the day seemed to lift, and you found solace in the simplicity of the moment, feeling peace at the silence.

eventually, you turned to lockwood with a genuine smile, "thank you for making my birthday special in your own way."

he grinned back, "anytime, y/n"

and so, under the vast, starlit sky, you found a different kind of celebration—one that felt uniquely yours, shared with a friend who understood the beauty of quiet moments and the peace you found in the simple act of watching the stars.

[veeisdunn]

Sneaking around

Shelby family x sister!reader

warning: period typical homophobia

context: set before season one, reader is a few years younger than Ada.

I know this isn't an original idea and is kind of overdone, but I figured since I am very very queer I might as well give it a shot.

WC: 4.1K

MASTERLIST

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It took awhile for everyone to recognise, but it was clear as day now. The youngest Shelby girl was slipping away.

Finn saw it first. The young boy idolised his older sister. Though less than a year was between them, Y/N was his world. You were there, day in day out, to offer support, advice, or generally cause trouble; until one day, you weren't.

Arthur, bless his heart, took a long time to come around. 

"But I fuck off all the bloody time and I don't see any of yous all stressed"

"This is different Arthur, it's y/n" Tommy, the replacement voice of reason.

You were barely a teenager when you first realised you were different. You had a playground boyfriend who you adored, but not in the right way. You always looked at him like a best friend, but it became painfully obvious he was dealing with some serious puppy love. He kissed you. You hated it.

You promptly ended things after that embarrassment.

As you got older, it clicked. You didn't like boys, not in that way. You looked at women the same way many men would. 

I'm fucking delusional. A looney.

The Shelby boys would tease your lack of romance, but deep down appreciated that you being single gave them one less thing to worry about.

You was all alone with these thoughts of self-loathing, until you met her.

Emma was a few years your senior and worked as a seamstress on the other side of Small Heath. You were caught in the rain together one evening, and the rest was history. You and Emma became close friends, both craving female companionship in your male-dominated lives. Your relationship escalated one drunken night in the snug of the Garrison. Most of the Blinders were in London doing god knows what, leaving the private room of the pub to you and her friend.

"Truth or dare?" Emma slurred 

You hummed, "truth!"

"Who was your first love?" 

"That's a big question." you pondered

"I've just never seen you around any men! You never even talk about them, you literally have your pick of every man in Birmingham." Emma giggled, her inhibitions getting the best of her.

"I… I just haven't found the right person yet." you quipped defensively, pouring yourself and Emman another glass.

"Maybe you're looking in the wrong place?" 

You choked on her gin. "What's that supposed to mean?”

Emma leaned back into her chair and stared you down. "I saw the way you look at the barmaid." she smirked.

shit. shit. shit.

"I think she's cute as well" Emma continued, swirling her drink around her glass.

You felt like all of the air had been ejected from your lungs. Did Emma feel it too?

"Wait. You also like women?" 

"Yes. I think they're rather more attractive" the older girl replied nonchalantly.

— 

Ever since that fateful evening, you had been "best friends" - more accurately, you were sneaking around each other's houses, stealing kisses behind buildings or under tables, and fighting the urge not to show any physical affection in public. You were enamored by each other.

This new arrangement made you fear your family, quite simply because they ran the entire city - the walls may as well have had piercing eyes following your every move. Though if the you were exposed, you didn't worry for yourself, you worried for Emma - an unmarried 20 year-old living in a bedsit above a cobbler who had no family (or gang for that matter) to come to her defense.

Y/N was certain this was one of the only laws her family hadn’t broken, and now you were walking all over it. Homosexuality, as Emma had taught you, was fully natural, but extremely illegal. Sometimes the you wished you could just be normal, but then you wouldn’t be able to spend hours gazing into your girlfriend's glowing eyes - a truly impossible predicament.

— 

The sun peaked up over the dense bog of factory smoke, darkened rays illuminating the dusty streets. Y/N took a deep breath in, halfway between a slumber and reality. 

That’s a nice smell.

Only a few minutes later did you realise that that nice smell was, in fact, Emma’s perfume and your head was, in fact, buried in Emma's chest.

“Morning, sunshine.” The older girl whispered, resting her hand on your knotty h/c  hair, attempting in vain to comb through it with her fingers.

“What time is it?” you yawned and relaxed into Emma’s gentle touch.

“Just turned seven, the bird’s woke me.” She spoke softly but the you were thrown into a panic. This was your first time sleeping in your bed and you'd slept in.

“They'll be up.” You shot up from Emma’s embrace. This revelation ruined the tranquillity of your night together. Emma hastily slipped on one of your frilly blouses and long woollen skirt, abandoning last night’s evening dress for the sake of blending in outside. You then helped your lover out of the window and onto the fence, then down to the alleyway beside the Shelby home.

“Em I’m sorry, again. I’m just scared, I don’t want anything to happen to you.” You apologised profusely, feeling ashamed that you went to such lengths to hide. 

Emma smiled sadly “No, I get it. We can’t have our fun end now can we?” She giggled playfully “I best be off, you should sleep over in my room tonight.” 

You blushed as Emma waltzed down the alley and onto the bustle of Watery Lane as if nothing had just happened. 

— 

“Aunt Polly, guess what?” Finn giggled, skipping into the crowded kitchen. The whole family, except you, were crowded around the table eating breakfast. “I heard someone in Y/N’s room!”

“Finn, that’s not funny. Go and cause trouble elsewhere.” Tommy scolded, glancing up from his newspaper.

“No!” the boy protested, grabbing his Aunt’s arm as she walked past, “I heard her talking! And I heard lots of footsteps! And the window!” he blabbed

The chorus of murmurs that filled the room ceased. 

“Y/N’s finally gotten herself a man!” John cheered, slapping an angry Tommy on the back. Across the table, it looked as if steam was pouring from Arthur’s ears.

“Boys, I say it’s a good thing. It’s time she found someone to have fun with.” Ada sighed, sensing one of her brother’s was about to blow up.

“I agree with Ada.” Polly announced, “Y/N is an adult now, she can do whatever the bloody hell she pleases”

“She’s barely 18!” Tommy slammed his paper down “she should NOT be having men sharing her bed.” Ada glared daggers into him. A floorboard creaking across the hall meant that you had accidentally announced yourself sneaking back to bed.

“Speak of the devil.” Arthur tutted. 

You apprehensively stepped towards the stairs.

Maybe if I walk slowly, they won’t see me?

“Y/N! Y/N! Who was it? When can I meet him?” Finn sang, bounding up to you, Tommy hot on his heels. 

“Who was the man in your bed?” Tommy demanded “Do we know him? Or will I have to introduce myself?” He snapped, a menacing undertone in his voice.

“THIS is why she felt the need to sneak him out!” Ada shouted over her brother, “you could at least pretend to be supportive!”

Tommy let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Okay, how was your secret fuck last night?”

“THOMAS! Cut it out. Now.” Polly could have broken glass with her shriek. “Girls, I suggest you leave. Your brothers need educating.”  

You fled up the stairs to her room. Ada followed close behind, stopping her sister from slamming the door and locking herself away. You threw yourself on the bed in despair. 

“That’s a nice dress. Did you wear it last night?” Ada tried her best to be friendly, inspecting Emma’s crimson dress hung over a desk chair.

“That’s not my dress.” You rolled over to face the wall, “it’s my friends.” you huffed defensively.

“You know, you can always borrow my dresses?” Ada settled down at the end of her sister’s bed, misjudging the situation.

“No Ada, it’s just that she wore it last night and left it here.” 

“So if one of your friends slept over, can’t you just tell everyone so they’ll shut up?”

An unfamiliar knot tied itself in your stomach. It was one thing sneaking around behind the backs of your family, lying to their faces was not something you'd considered. You opted to remain silent.

“What’s going on with you lately? You keep shutting everyone out.” Ada leaned over and looked down over her little (adult) sister with concern.

“I’m just so fucking tired of hiding.”

Ada’s the least likely to kill me.

“From what?” 

“Everyone. I am sick of living life like this.”

“Y/N, who was here last night?” Ada asked softly, catching on.

You snapped. “My girlfriend. My girlfriend was here and we slept in my bed. We didn’t have sex, we just talked.”

Ada silently gasped and took a moment to compose herself. “Look, I don’t care what you’re doing with her-”

“No, it’s not that.” tears began to well in your eyes, “it’s the fact they all probably think I’m no better than a common prostitute despite the fact they sleep with every woman they find.” 

“Oh Y/N…” Ada mumbled with a smile, “Polly will sort them out. You shouldn’t be sneaking around us.”

You was taken aback by Ada’s lack of anger. 

“Now…” Ada jumped up and picked up Emma’s dress from the chair, admiring the quality “tell me about her!”

— 

“Look Thomas, just because she is a woman and you are a man, it doesn’t mean you have more rights than Y/N.” Polly snapped, towering above her nephew.

“You just can’t seem to get it through your head, Pol.” Tommy retorted, standing from his seat, “men are bad, they can’t be trusted.”

“Yes, and you would know all about bad men Tommy, since you yourself run with the devil.” Polly squared up to him and snarled, staring into his dark eyes.

John joined the pair standing and rested a hand on each of their shoulders. “Eva is a smart girl, she probably picked someone who’s the total opposite of a Blinder. He’ll be nothing like Tommy.”

“At least if he’s a fuckin’ Blinder we can finish him off quickly.” Arthur chimed in, gripping his glass so hard it could have smashed.

“There will be no finishing of anyone off. You boys cannot sentence an innocent man to death for sleeping with Y/N. How do you think she will take that? Will she thank you? Or will she leave this God forsaken city and never come back?” Polly snapped, “It’s your decision, but it’s one you should take in a fucking heartbeat.”

As Polly berated Arthur and John sat back with indifference, Tommy stormed into the hallway and ascended the rickety stairs to your room. His mind was running at lightning speed, anger and guilt both clouding his rational brain. He had to know who this man was before he decided on his next step. Your jubilant voice and Ada’s giggles stopped him from bashing her door off its hinges.

“And when Emma kisses me, I swear my heart is going to explode.”

“Does she treat you well?”

“She’s so thoughtful. On the anniversary of Mum’s death, she brought flowers for us to throw in the cut. We sat on the edge for hours and she just listened to me ramble.”

“Oh my gosh! You lucky girl Y/N!” 

Tommy kissed his teeth and looked up at the ceiling before opening the door.

If there is a God, he thought, then please tell me what the fuck is going on.

Both yourself and Ada jumped as your older brother entered, his expression was impossible for either of you to decipher.

“Tommy, before you yell at her, can you at least think about this!” Ada begged, standing between him and yourself.

“Ada. Out. I need to talk with Y/N alone.”

Ada stepped forward “If you upset her Tommy, I’ll fucking kill you.” she threatened through gritted teeth.

Begrudgingly, after bickering some more, Ada left your bedroom and closed the door behind her. 

Thomas sighed, listening to the rapid rhythm of his pulse. Wordlessly, he picked up your desk chair and placed it next to your bed, sitting down and staring at his sister who was leant against the headboard, your knees to yourchest. You refused to meet his gaze.

“So,” He coughed, “Who is Emma?”

You traced circles into your thigh as you took a shaky breath in.

“My friend.” You mumbled

“Your friend who you shared a bed with and kissed?” Tommy raised his eyebrows. He needed to hear you say it for yourself, though, as Ada did, he’d caught on.

“I - you know, Tommy.” You sniffed your tears back.

“I need to hear it from you, Y/N. Use your words.”

“Fine. I love her Tommy! I love her more than all the girls you sleep around with. I know you don’t want me to be happy but I don’t care because I love her.” You lost it, you sat up and faced him, shouting with tears streaming down your face. The only thing stopping you from attacking him was the iron grip you were keeping on your bed sheets.

Tommy didn’t reply. He rested his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands.

“I know you’re pissed but quite frankly I’m sick to death of being a prisoner to the men in this family. For once, I have someone who loves me for me and who doesn’t treat me like a child. If you don’t like it, I’ll fucking leave and you can be rid of me.” The words flew out of your mouth without much doubt and you couldn’t figure out if they were empty threats or if you were ready to run. Your brother’s reaction would decide that.

Silence. “So?” you spat, “when do you want me gone?”

Tommy barely registered what he had heard. He was stunned, sifting through his racing thoughts: She could be arrested, or even killed. Her reputation would be finished. What if she wanted her own life and career? Would she even be able to find a job?

He was so engrossed, in fact, that he didn’t even notice you leave in floods of tears.

— 

You were running on fumes. You hadn’t woken up prepared for any of this anguish. Your legs carried you to the one place where you knew you’d be safe - Emma. Before long, and after lots of odd looks from people around you, you'd ended up at the door of the dress shop where your girlfriend worked. 

“G’morning! How can I help?” The woman behind the counter looked up from her work at you, a fake smile on her face.

“Emma.” you panted, catching your breath, “Is Emma here? I’m her friend and it’s an emergency.”

After studying your face, the woman’s smile faded. “Emma!” She poked her head through a door behind her and called, “There is a Miss Shelby here looking for you.”

A crash, a slam, and then Emma appeared, rather flustered. If it wasn’t for your panic, you would be swooning at the sight of your lover in your clothes. 

“You should step in the back for a minute - I don’t want customers seeing you girls chit-chat.” The woman, who you had now deduced was the boss, spoke quietly. Emma didn’t respond and grabbed your forearm, leading you into the back room and closing the door.

“What happened? Why’re you crying?” Emma fretted, sitting you down at a desk.

You held back your tears in fear of getting your girlfriend in trouble. “They know.” You whispered, “My little brother heard someone in my room and they’ve all found out.”

Emma cursed under her breath, holding onto your hands so hard her knuckles went white. “Are they angry?” She whispered back, her eyes flicking to the door cautiously.

“I - I don’t know. My sister was really happy but I don’t think my brothers are. I asked Tommy if he wanted me to leave and he didn’t even say anything. I don’t think I can go back.”

The older girl walked over to a set of pegs and took a key out of a bag, handing it to you. “Go back to my room. I’ll finish at six today, then we can come up with a plan.”

“No!” You snapped in a hushed voice “You don’t understand how crazy my family are. You should leave me here and go somewhere else, it won’t be safe in the city for you anymore.”

“I’m not going anywhere without you. If you don’t think it’s safe here, then let’s both get out.”

After that exchange, you were sent on your way back to Emma’s bedsit. Luckily everyone else was at work so no one saw you run in. You were originally planning to spend the day figuring out what you and Emma were going to do come the evening, but you instead collapsed from exhaustion and slept.

— 

“Thomas Michael Shelby!” Polly bellowed, practically picking him up by his collar. “What in God’s name have you done?!”

Tommy snapped out of his haze. Y/N was gone. Polly was out for blood. Ada was crying. Arthur was having a drink - at 8am. John was gone, too. What the fuck happend?

“You were meant to comfort her! Not drive her out of the fucking house!” 

Tommy ignored his raging aunt. “I’ll get every bloody man on the street to find her.” His voice was monotone as he pulled a cigarette from his pocket.

Ada chuckled sarcastically, “John’s already onto that, got all the Blinder’s after her. He was being a brother while you were sitting on your arse.”

“SHIT” Tommy stood up and threw the pile of books from Y/N’s desk into the wall. “Shit shit shit.” And he was gone.

— 

The three brothers were out all day looking for their sister, while Polly, Ada, and Finn stayed home waiting in case she returned. She didn’t. As the night approached, the trio returned and handed over to a group of their associates who planned to search all night.

On the other side of Small Heath, you and Emma were getting ready to head out. Your plan was to sneak back to Watery Lane, get your things, leave a note, and get out. You was intending to hide in Emma’s room until you could both figure out where to go next. You took the reverse route that you had that morning, seeing that all the lights were on downstairs, but no one appeared to be upstairs. Down the alley, up the fence, onto the roof, then through the window. The one thing that you'd forgotten to consider was that somebody could already be in there. 

Ada was laying on your bed in floods of tears. The second your feet hit the floor, she shot up and screamed, bounding over. “Y/N! I thought you were never coming back!” She grabbed you and smothered her in an embrace, “Tommy didn’t mean it. He was just being an idiot. Good god Y/N I thought we’d lost you.”

Emma awkwardly slid in through the window, extremely embarrassed. At the same time, a pair of footsteps sprinted up the stairs and into the room and the door flew open. John. He looked exhausted and was too shocked to even speak, he assumed Ada was having a nightmare. On her guard, Emma stormed over to him and backed him in a corner. 

“Are you Thomas?!” She snapped, seething with anger.

John let out a sincere chuckle and smiled. “So Y/N did pick someone tough after all - I’m John, not Tommy.” Emma retreated in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I thought he’d made you cry.” She mumbled to you “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I like her, Y/N.” Ada smiled, taking a good look at the new woman in the room.

You walked over to Emma and took her hand. “You don’t need to protect me, it’s ok.” You whispered, wrapping her in a calming hug. You could feel her pulse pumping across her body.

“So you’re the girl who stole my little sister’s heart?” John enquired, relieved.

“Emma.” You spoke into the girl’s chest, “You’re hugging me too tight.”

Emma immediately let go “I’m sorry, I’m just tense.” You pecked her lips, “Better now?”

Ada awed at the interaction and took in the sight of her baby sister in love, John could have sworn his legs had turned to jelly. The moment was destroyed by another set of footsteps, Tommy entered drearily. 

John ceased his opportunity to wind his brother up. “Emma.” He announced, turning to her, “This is Thomas. Tommy, meet Emma.”

The loving embrace between you both ended as Emma stormed over to the doorway and pinned Tommy against it. Ada covered her mouth, trying not to laugh at the exchange.

“You. You fucking made Y/N cry. She’s been in my room all day crying because you couldn’t talk to her, after demanding that she ‘use her words’ you fucking prick.” she spat. Tommy lifted his hands up in surrender, shocked at this new girl’s confidence. 

“Ay, no need to shout. I came to apologise to my sister for being an arse.” 

“Honest to God Tommy, I don’t think an apology will cut it.” John folded his arms and walked towards the door.

“No. I’ll listen.” You piped up, pushing past John. “Emma, it’s ok, I promise.”

Emma shook her head and stood back. Ada took her out of the room begrudgingly and John followed, the three of them waiting outside of your door.

“Tommy, I-” You began but you were cut off by your brother engulfing you in a hug and practically picking you up.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart. I’m sorry. You can be angry at me but I’m just so happy you’re home.” He rambled, gripping you as if you were about to disappear again.

“I’m not angry, I’m hurt.” You stepped back from the hug and looked into his glassy eyes. “Why didn’t you say something, anything Tommy? I thought you were mad, I thought you hated me.” You spoke as tears fell down her cheeks.

“I - Y/N I was thinking about you. I was scared. You’re too good for this world and people won’t understand this.”

“I just wish you could have said something. Tommy you fucking terrified me.” You sniffed.

He took your hand in his and held it to his chest. “I don’t care who you love, Y/N, as long as you love. I don’t know where all that talk of me hating you came from. You could scream and shout at me, but I will never, ever, hate you. I got scared that you’d met some man like me who wouldn’t treat you well; but now I see you’ve found yourself a woman who will fight me over your feelings - a brave woman.” 

“So… you don't hate me? I thought you’d want me locked up.”

Tommy scoffed “Locked up, eh? You don’t have shell shock. You aren’t crazy. And even if you were, I'd look after you, I wouldn’t shut you away.”

You burst into relieved tears, prompting Emma to open the door. Tommy immediately stood to face her, his arms yet again up in a surrender.

“I don’t know if you heard that, Love, but I was apologising, so please don’t cut me.” He spoke, locking eyes with her pleadingly.

“Ok.” Emma sighed. “You’re forgiven, for now.” She warned. John skipped through the door cheering. “Tommy brother, we have found your match!” He laughed, “Aunt Polly will love you!”

The rollercoaster of a day came to a crashing halt as night fell across Watery Lane. You apprehensively introduced Emma to your family. John was right, Polly adored her: “Finally, another woman to help me control these feral men.”

Arthur was less expressive: “D’ya want a whisky?” Emma obliged - immediate friends.

Finn, bless his heart, was very confused - “Y/N, your boyfriend is a girl.” but he eventually figured it out.

— 

“You know,” You started, looking into the fire surrounded by your family with the woman you loved, “sometimes Em and I joke that the Shelby’s have now broken every law in the book.”

“No, I’m sure your brothers could find a few others.” Polly chuckled, leaning back into her seat, a smile plastered across her face.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

please drop me a comment or message with any feedback or suggestions! I'd love to hear from you ♡

Vee x

MASTERLIST

[zaeliaeve]

𝓡𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓕𝓵𝓪𝓶𝓮 [𝓚.𝓜] 𝟏𝟖+ Chapter 3

18+ ONLY! MINORS DNI

warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, size kink, and daddy kink.

- 

It's fair to say most people would take a wealthy man's money if given the opportunity.

If you add him being in a relationship and having an affair the option to take the money would seem obvious, but for some reason, it wasn't. It was a kind gesture but it was one that felt sleazy taking for Bianca.

Bianca pondered on how to approach the situation and landed on a simple text; one that she didn't really expect him to respond to given his recent moody state of mind. How could one man go from coming in your mouth, to ignoring you like you never existed, and then giving a blank check with flowers that same day? It was hard to keep up with.

Even through all of that, she didn't want to stop anything between them. If anything she craved it more. She pressed her thighs together just thinking about Kylian emptying himself down her throat. Kylian was like a drug.

It was everything about him. His wide friendly smile, his strong broad shoulders, his low sensual voice. It was hard not to be drawn to him.

Although Kylian's behavior was odd she understood it. This was a consequence of being with someone who already has someone they're giving their time and attention to and have for years before her. Camille was the mother of his child and nothing could change that.

Bianca still felt she should show her gratitude even if she wasn't going to take him up on the offer. It was only right.

The only reason Bianca had managed to get Kylian's number was because they would message each other their lunch orders when they needed to. They had only messaged once or twice outside of those terms.

She could only imagine how awkward it would be for Camille to stumble upon his phone and find texts with his secretary. What would she say? How would she feel?

But under these circumstances, it seemed appropriate.

B: You didn't have to do that but I really do appreciate it. Thank you for your kindness, I really needed it today.

Bianca hadn't had time to dwindle on the subject after she sent the text because she spent the next hour on the phone with her mother, completely distracted from anything else. As she was hanging up, her phone vibrated.

KM: I wanted to do it. I hope you enjoy your trip and spend time with your family. Bring back another one of your sister's scarves, Ariella spilled red apple sauce all over mine last month.

She laughed and buried the lower half of her face deeper into her pillow, ignoring the tinge of internal guilt at the mention of his daughter.

B: I'm not going, but I'll have her send another one through the mail.

Surprisingly, he messaged back quickly.

KM: Why not? Do you think I haven't noticed you scrolling through your mom's pictures on Facebook when you're supposed to be working? This is all you wanted

B: I want to go more than anything but I'm not taking your money. I'll be able to go in a few months after I finish paying off my engine. Also, how did you get my address?

KM: I definitely broke a few company policies for you, I hope you feel special.

KM: Do you really think I'd offer you money if I didn't mean it? Considerate it a thank-you gift for all the things your family sends. Your grandma's creams cured my cough in one night.

B: I'm not taking your money!! I don't take other people's things that they worked for.

The irony is not lost upon her.

B: And maybe I feel just a littleeeee bit special.

KM: Just think about it, but who knows for your birthday I might buy you a car out of pure spite!

B: Okay, I will. Thank you again, goodnight Mbappé.

KM: Kylian*** and bonne nuit Bianca. When Bianca came into work a few days later, she was surprised to find a receipt for a plane ticket on her desk. It said her full name and the date which was for that very weekend. Bianca instantly called Kylian's landline phone. "You didn't," Bianca said with surprise as she looked down at the paper, not even saying hello. 

He laughed from the other end of the phone. "I did. You wouldn't let me do it any other way," he says like it is nothing.

"Kylian" she whined, tears blurring her vision. 

Bianca was overcome with many emotions, at a loss for words as she shook slightly. "Thank you so much I don't even know what to say"

He let out a soft awww before shaking his head, smiling growing wider. "You deserve it. It's not that big of a deal, I don't know if you know this or not but money isn't exactly a worry for me" His tone was light and teasing.

She told him, nose becoming stuffy. "It is a big deal Kylian! Thank you,  thank you." 

 "Go have fun, Bianca."

And she did.

The trip was for four days meaning she missed only two days of work, the other days being her time off anyways. While in her home country, she took time to decompress. Bianca visited her father's gravesite, finally ate a homecooked meal after months, and read bedtime stories to her nephews. It was everything she needed, and more.

It felt so good to sleep in her old bed, but it came with complicated emotions when she would wake up and her father wouldn't be there reading the morning newspaper at the kitchen table. It felt more empty in the house even though the family had only grown since then.

Coming home offered a unique perspective that she was missing for all those months in Paris. As promised, she brought home a big bag of bread, candy, homemade creams, and knitted things for everyone around the office but most of all Kylian.

Going from somewhere hot and peaceful to the cold bustling Paris was an adjustment. 

On the day Bianca came back into the office it was absolutely pouring outside. Thunder vibrated the building's walls all day, many of the higher-ups deciding just to go home and work from their own houses. 

As the day neared its end she received a text from Kylian. 

Taking public transport in this weather will be horrible. You'll go home drenched like a dog. Let me give you a ride

Bianca instantly replied to the text. You've done enough for me this week, I'll be fine (thank u though).

Kylian sent a thumbs-down reaction to her message. I just wanted an excuse to spend time with you. Humor me a bit Bianca

Oh Kylian will you please drive me home in this pouring rain? I'll wash away in the sewers if you don't rescue me!

He responded with a laughing emoji, and then a red heart. Well since you asked so nicely.

They met inside his car, both making sure to walk out separately at different times so as to not be seen together. "I would ask if you want directions but you already know apparently" Bianca teased as he pressed the push-to-start button. 

Internally she was gawking at his car.All-white leather seats, a grand glass sunroof, and a big touchscreen console. It was stunning. 

"How was your trip?" Kylian asked as he pulled out of his parking spot. 

The radio played quietly in the background. "It was therapeutic. My nephews grew so much that I couldn't believe it. The youngest is talking now and when I left he would barely say mama. I forgot time doesn't slow down for anyone." Bianca explained, eyes trained on the smooth road.

Kylian nodded empathetically. "I understand how you feel. Ariella is growing and learning new things every day. The other day she wrote her first name in crayon. It wasn't the neatest, but she did it all on her own. it's scary but rewarding to watch a baby grow into their own person." Something changed in him when he mentioned his daughter, a brightness in his eyes.

Bianca's lips upturned as she looked at him. "That's a big accomplishment. I'm sure you're a proud papa."

He flashed his white teeth. "The proudest." 

Kylian changed the subject as he put on his turn signal, the mood switching back to casual. "It was boring at the firm without you. We had one of Leo's assistants fill in as the secretary and he didn't laugh once at any of my jokes. Plus, he wasn't wearing a tight skirt to make up for his personality, so it was even worse" He teased, head nodding to her outfit.

"If that's what it takes for you to leave me alone I'll come in with a hazmat suit tomorrow" Bianca giggled, playing along.

The Frenchman shook his head, a smirk still on his lips. "Without me, you would have quit a long time ago."

He wasn't wrong so Bianca decided not to say anything but to just laugh instead.

"Did you bring me back anything? I hope you brought those little jelly-filled cookies"  

Bianca looked out her window, not wanting to make eye contact for what she was going to say. "Actually I brought you a lot of things but I left them in my house. I can bring them to you or..." she trailed off.

"...Or?" Kylian chirped back

She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs together. "Or you can come inside."

He breathed in heavily. "Okay, sure."

They made it to her home and Bianca was almost trembling with anticipation while she turned the key over.  When they stepped inside, they took off their shoes at the door before she led him into her bedroom. 

Kylian wrapped his arms around her as they stood in front of the bed, Bianca's heart melting at the feeling of his soft lips on her own. It was everything she wanted it to be. Kylian grasped at her body as their tongues met, sighing happily into the kiss. They made out for a while, infatuated with each other's mouths.

 "You know I've never seen you naked before" Kylian breathlessly noted after some time. 

Bianca leaned up to peck his lips again, eyes twinkling. "Ahh I'm nervous. Close your eyes and I'll get on the bed."

He chuckled and turned around to take his pants off then button down his shirt."You have no reason to be nervous, you're beautiful" he assured her kindly.

Bianca quickly stripped herself of her work clothes before laying on top of the bed, staring at Kylian's muscular back and legs as he stood in his boxers. "You can look now."

Kylian walked over to the bed; silently gasping as he glanced down at the lilac lace adorning her frame. "What's this?" He asked, running his hands over the material covering her chest. 

He moved back a bit so he could look at her full body, taking her in completely before crawling on top of her.

Bianca's cheeks flushed red as she tried to nuzzle into his neck to hide her embarrassment. His hands pushed her gently back down onto the bed so their eyes could meet. "You got all dolled up for me, ma belle?" His tone was soft, yet in awe.

His gaze felt so caring it made it hard to keep eye contact but yet she wanted to drown in the feeling forever.

This feels different than before.

"I wanted to surprise you," Bianca says honestly, batting her long eyelashes as she maintained deep eye contact.

Kylian leans down to kiss her affectionately, hand caressing her cheek as if she were made of glass. She inhales into the kiss, breathing in Kylian's intoxicatingly enticing cologne. When he pulls away his breathing is heavier. "You are absolutely perfect."

Her stomach flips at his words and she brings him back down for another kiss, this time with more passion in her own way to reciprocate the sentiment. Both of their hearts are pounding as their limbs laced together, truly enjoying the feel of each other.

As the kiss heated up, Kylian brought his hand up to rub against Bianca's thinly clothed nipple earning a soft mewl from her. Fueled by her reaction, he broke the kiss to leave sloppy kisses down her neck and onto her chest, sucking on the spot he knows drives her crazy.

Kylian unclasped her bra with ease before tossing it onto the hardwood floor. He froze in his place to look at her and smiled at her blown-out pupils, raw lips, and erect nipples. "Magnifique" he praised before attaching his mouth onto her breast.

Bianca's back arched up as she ground onto his already rock-solid bulge, holding his head while he suckled onto her left nipple. She moaned loudly from the intense feeling, holding him as tightly as she could while the wet sensation clouded all her senses.

He rolled his tongue around the sensitive nerves, grazing purposefully with his bottom teeth. A string of saliva was drawn out as he pulled away and moved onto the other breast, repeating the process "s-so good" Bianca babbled out, drunk with lust.

Kylian looked up with darkened eyes as he sucked hungrily, pleased with her whines. Bianca was sopping wet, a small pool of her juices spreading onto Kylian's skin. He pulled away from her chest and kissed downwards until he reached the top of her lace underwear.

Without hesitation, he pulled the lace down her legs before spreading them enough to slide himself in between. Bianca almost screamed as Kylian licked at her wet heat, he held his hands firmly at the top of her thighs.

"So wet for me princess" his voice vibrated as he spoke, causing her to grind down further.

He lapped at her slick folds, moaning at the sweet taste. One hand lifted off of her thighs and he pressed two long fingers at her entrance. Kylian sucked at her swollen clit as he inserted his fingers deeply, quickly finding a steady rhythm.

Bianca's eyes rolled back, uncontrollable noises falling from her lips as Kylian's fingers sunk into her, hitting her most sensitive places. Kylian only sucked harder at her clit, causing her thighs to shake around his head.

It took everything within her brain power to be able to form a sentence, even in pieces. "Fuck me, please fuck me, please Kylian" she got out, brain too gone for embarrassment.

Kylian continued his movements, fingers only speeding up as she quivered underneath his tongue. "Please daddy" she begged, feeling too close to her edge.

He outrightly moaned and stood up off of the bed, leaving Bianca's thighs dripping onto the sheets below. Kylian pulled down his boxers to reveal his fully erect length, precum oozing down the tip.

"My needy little whore" he cooed as he brought her naked body to the edge of the bed.

Bianca smiled at the name before sharply inhaling while Kylian lined himself up with her. He stroked at his length before dragging himself down her folds, soaking his tip in the clear liquid. Kylian pressed his dick up against Bianca's clit, teasing her while she begged him for more.

After he got the reaction he wanted he moved down and slowly inserted himself, drooling at the sight of her gripping him tightly. Bianca tapped on his chest, causing him to freeze immediately in his place. "Do you want to wear a condom?" She asked, still half full of him.

He thought about it for a quick second, but his mind already seemed made up. "Do you want me to wear a condom?" He repeated back.

"No, wanna feel you raw."

Kylian smiled sweetly and then pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Likewise, princess."

Bianca lifted her head to watch the slow movements pick back up, sighing in contentment at the feeling and sight of his thick cock stretching her.

He leaned over to kiss her, slipping his tongue in sloppily while he bottomed out fully within her. They made out hotly as Bianca got used to his size. When she started bucking into him, he took that as a sign to start moving again. Slowly, he picked up his pace- groaning raspily as he fucked into her tight hole.

She moved to lift her legs onto his shoulders, crying out in ecstasy when he reached a new level of deep. Kylian's jaw dropped at the new angle as he held on to her tightly, thrusting into her quicker. "Fuck it's b-big" Bianca slurred, eyelids dropping with pleasure.

Kylian pressed his large hand down onto her stomach. "Can you feel it in here, mon bébé?" His tone was low and confident.

Bianca dropped her hand down under his, moaning loudly when she felt a small bulge that popped up in time with his movements. "Y-yes so so deep" she whimpered, tears prickling up at the corners of her eyes from how good it felt.

He was rougher now, completely pulling out before slamming back into her harshly. Kylian gasped out every time his throbbing cock ground against the back of her slick walls. She was loving every moment of it, squeezing around his thick length.

"You're so fucking tight" he panted in between thrusts, his balls twitching at the feeling.

There was a pressure building that she had never felt before. She had had many orgasms in her life, but this was more intense. Bianca began to thrash around on the bed, the pressure overwhelming her in the best way. Kylian groaned as her walls clenched around him even tighter, his orgasm not too far away. "Daddy fuck, I can't."

Even in his lost mind, he understood what was happening so continued at his fast pace, bringing a hand to circle against her clit. Bianca's moans become more frequent and louder as she was at the brink of her edge, the strange pressure growing to be too much.

Kylian leaned down to her ear, his pace keeping at the same rate. "You've been such a good girl for me," he praised, watching her almost unravel underneath him.

"Come all over my cock, princess" he instructed, pressing down harder onto her clit.

Bianca screamed as a clear fluid gushed out of her, wetting Kylian's thighs and lower abs. "Fuck yes, baby. Keep coming all over, pretty girl" Kylian groaned as he fucked her through her orgasm.

Her nails racked down his back as she spasmed around his cock, her world stopping as she squirted all over her bed and lover. Bianca couldn't think about anything other than the dick pounding her, tears pouring down her face at the overwhelming euphoria. "Fuck Kylian" was all she managed to rasp out in between cries.

Kylian kissed her temple softly. "I know, baby. I know"

It took a good minute for the pleasure to finally fade, but her walls still shook around his hard length. Kylian was dangerously close, proud of himself for not coming instantly when he saw Bianca's orgasm.

A wet deeply erotic pop filled the room as Kylian pulled out of her soaking pussy; climbing on the bed and over Bianca with his dick still in his hands.

Bianca stuck her tongue out as Kylian towered over her, cupping his balls while he jerked himself off rapidly. As she went to wrap her mouth around his full length, Kylian held her hair tightly in place so she was hovering over his dick without being on it.

"Wanna give me a facial?" Bianca asked, batting her eyelashes up at him.

Kylian nodded, sweat dripping down from his forehead as he pulled at his cock. Bianca wanted to say whatever she needed to in order to get him there. "Gonna come for me, Daddy? Gonna paint me like the cumslut I am for you?" Bianca purred, sticking out her tongue once again.

He let out something in-between a cry and a grunt as his cock jerked wildly, spurting out his huge sticky load onto her face. Kylian tried to keep his eyes open to watch but couldn't, the pleasure almost bringing him down to the bed fully, knees wobbly.

"Merde" Kylian choked out as he dragged his length over Bianca's semen-stained cheek, using his own cum to jerk off for a little bit longer. After a minute he let out a relaxed breath as his body calmed down.

As soon as Bianca noticed his orgasm had washed away, she mouthed his oversensitive dick to lick up the white residue. Kylian winced loudly but let her clean up the mess, watching as she used her fingers to scoop the rest and swallow it. "You're an angel, Bianca" Kylian breathed out as he leaned down to kiss her, the taste of each other on their lips.

They lazily kissed for a few seconds before Kylian collapsed beside her. He pulled Bianca into his bare chest and let his breathing even out as his eyes closed exhaustedly. "Missed you so much" was the last thing Kylian said before dozing off completely. 

Bianca pressed a long kiss to his chest. "I missed you too" she murmured before falling into her own sleep.

Everything felt so serene, so right.

In times like these, it was easy to forget about the world waiting for them outside. It was just them. No distractions, no work, no worries. They slept peacefully for hours, not waking up for anything as they cradled each other's naked bodies. 

The bright sun has long since set, the tranquil moonlight allowing their fantasy to live out without the light reminding them of their real lives and responsibilities. 

All good things must come to an end at some point.

In the middle of the night, Kylian sat up abruptly, heart pounding in his chest. Bianca stirred next to him, awoken by the sudden movement. His hands scanned across the bed until they reached his phone. 

Kylian squinted at the bright light and tapped at the screen until it unlocked. "Shit.." he sighed as he looked down at the dozens of missed calls and texts.

Bianca didn't even know what to say, mind still foggy from sleep. Even if she hadn't just woken up she's not sure if she could come up with something better. "Is she mad?" she croaked out, voice grainy.

"She's pissed and worried. I should call her to let her know I'm okay" Kylian crawled out of bed and put on his boxers, leaving Bianca cold at the loss of his body warmth. 

Bianca frowned and watched him disappear into her living room- shutting the bedroom door behind him. Her heart swelled as tears welled up in her eyes, listening as Kylian apologized profusely and made up a web of lies about where he was.

It dawned upon her that no matter what moments they shared he wasn't hers. No matter how many times he caressed her and made her feel beautiful he would eventually go back to Camille. Why am I even upset? I'm the bitch here. I'm ruining their relationship not the other way around.

Kylian broke her out of her thoughts as the door creaked open. "I told her I'm just gonna come home from the office in a few hours after the rain eases up." He crawled back into his previous spot, pulling the blanket over him.

He glanced over to find a dazed Bianca staring up at the ceiling. "What's wrong?" He pinched her nose playfully to lighten the mood.

"Nothing, just tired" she lied, eyes now on him.

Kylian opened his arms widely. "Come here then." 

Her worries melted away as she was enveloped in his comforting embrace. Kylian's fingers scratched at her scalp as she drifted off again, Kylian following not too far behind her.

When Bianca woke up from her alarm buzzing loudly she was surprised to find her bed empty. Bianca threw on a robe as she searched for Kylian, but he was nowhere to be found. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a big paper bag on her kitchen counter. 

Bianca opened the bag to find a prepacked breakfast from a restaurant nearby with an old piece of paper on top with scribbled writing on it. Don't hate me, I didn't want to wake you up. I hope you enjoy your breakfast. See you at the office -K.M

She shook her head and pulled out the food, throwing the paper back into the bag. Back to reality.

Later that same day it was business as usual. Bianca giggled to herself all throughout the day, still riding on the high of last night's events. A couple of her coworkers pointed out that she seemed to be giddy today, but Bianca kept her lips sealed shut. 

"Good afternoon" Bianca's greeted as she heard the front door open, her eyes stayed glued to the computer, typing something into the documents.

When her eye's left the screen she was surprised to be met with a familiar face that she didn't want to see, especially not now. Camille stood with her arms crossed, dark circles rimming the bottom of her eyes. "Is Kylian here?" 

Bianca inhaled sharply. "Mr. Mbappé is up inside his office, yes," she confirmed dragging her eyes back onto her computer screen.

Camille headed off to the elevators but turned back on second thought. "Was Kylian really here last night? Did you see him leave with anyone else?" she asked, her tone dripping with worry.

Bianca tried to ignore the hundreds of thoughts coming at her at once, guilt heavy on her conscious. She tried to look casual as she clicked away at her keyboard. "He was here when I left, but that's all I know." 

Once again Camille headed to the elevators, this time not looking back.

As soon as the girl left, Bianca buried her head into her hands and groaned loudly. I'm becoming a horrible person.

-

𝔸/ℕ: 𝕋𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘! 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕗𝕗𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕠𝕣𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕒𝕟 𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕀 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕤𝕠 𝕀'𝕞 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤 𝕥𝕠 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕤. 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕤𝕠 𝕞𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕠 𝕨𝕣𝕚𝕥𝕖 𝕀 𝕜𝕖𝕡𝕥 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕝𝕠𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕒 𝕞𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕙𝕒𝕙𝕒.

[nilboxes]

I loved your headcanon of Ratio being a gundam fan. What other media franchises would you think he would geek over and give a 3 hour lecture on why he thinks they're the greatest? (Aventurine and the cats would be his audience) I can definitely see him liking the NieR series with how philosophical they are.

Hello Anon! I'm glad you liked it, I really should watch more Gundam...

He would totally also geek out over the time mechanics in Legacy of Kain series and resonate with the existentialist themes of defeating determinism and being able to control one's own fate. I see him as a Kantian Deontologist though (someone who believes all good actions derive from good intentions in order to be good) so he would be horrified at the actions of the characters and the events that spun from this in the first place, but he'd still appreciate it and talk about it a lot.

I also know he and Aventurine would have a long, long talk about the events of SOMA (very very good game). It's a neat little game that extensively covers what it means to have a "soul" and presents a lot of questions about consciousness, the importance of memories in identity, quality of life, hope after the end etc etc and is an endless trove of thought exercises about stuff he might be pondering on (part of me feels like Ratio is debating between himself to put both him and Aventurine in the divergent universe as a little wish fulfillment for Aventurine to have better outcome in life in some way and for them to meet in another life)

Figure he'd also love Evangelion if he loves Gundam and see a little of himself in Shinji. He'd understand that boy.

And yes, he would also really love Nier. Both Replicant and Automata would really resonate. Nier deals a lot with the crushing weight of meaninglessness of existence, the extent one should pursue one's desires, letting go of what was in order to make room for what could be etc etc. He'd like those things, I feel, very human and very resonant with his own struggle for meaningful pursuits.

(I feel like he'd also like metal gear ngl, but I'm not too well-versed in that, though from what little I've seen it seems a him thing for me hmm he'd like explorations of existentialism mostly)

Imagine both him and Aventurine going through these series/games together in their free time! I like headcanoning that Aventurine struggles with a lot of questions about freedom, and Ratio carefully answers his concerns about them. I write about this a lot in my fics, poor Aven and his struggles, but I like to think by spending time with Ratio like this he begins to get more and more equipped in how to deal with his circumstance.

The cats would also be with them through all these (they'd get mama veri and papaturine to go play horror games with them)

[14dyh]

17 from the new list? hange getting rejected

Get Over Her | H.Z.

Pairing: Hange Zoë x gn!reader Summary: You helped Hange get over their rejection. Word count: 1.0k A/N: sorry anon i can't write about y/n themself rejecting hange so this happened :"")

It would have been impossible for you to miss it when Hange acts strangely– even for themselves. Being roommates for over a year, you've known how they take their coffee differently in the morning, never miss checking on Science Daily to tell you something fascinating, or how their footsteps sound when they're trying not to wake you up at night. 

You know Hange. 

Their pain wouldn't pass over your eyes and the way they ruminate in an excruciating manner that you're starting to feel the headache for them. It began with the rejection that happened weeks ago. Hange just came home, throwing over the flowers they failed to give in an empty bin and refused to say anything other than they got rejected, that's all, just kinda unfortunate this time, right? You knew better and recognized right away how the rejection slowly deteriorates them from the inside, even if they're trying to laugh it off by dousing those flowers with an organic-based chemical that speeds up the composting process (as Hange happily announced to you). At some point, you had to try and rip them away from that cruel cycle of never admitting their pain. Sometimes you would spend hours in the arcade, pull them along the quiet garden on the riverside to watch ducks, or watch plays and movies until you both pass out on the couch. From those moments, you managed to glimpse the sparkle in their eyes again which they lost a day later after seeing her. 

You want to shake Hange into reality and yell at them to get over her. But how can you manage to do such a thing when she looks like everything Hange had hoped for? 

She would pass by the hallway and everyone's attention would be stirred. Her grace and fragrance, or how she managed to stand out like a fascinating flower among a field of others. She was what Hange hoped to be the perfect opposite of their ideal paradox. But now they couldn't stand or act like themself whenever in the same room as her or not until they decided to space out and let their ideas absorb them. There were times that they would remain silent in school, but you knew that the sound of their thoughts was getting louder and louder to bear.

You were both in your dorm, studying in the dead of the night when they asked, "Hey Y/N? Do I sound annoying?" And it sounded more like a question out of curiosity than self-deprecation. 

"Well, not really..." you responded. 

"Not really? What does that mean?"

"I mean, why would you ask me? If ever you're annoying, I'll be the first one to get used to it so don't think I would mind that anymore,” you explained, sitting up from your bed as you tried to meet their eyes. Hange’s gaze remained far away. 

"So maybe I do sound annoying..." they pondered loudly before turning to you and continuing. "Was it my voice?"

Hange continued on and on, asking and piecing together information on that topic.

And you were getting tired and hurt from the inside as they thought that maybe their voice was annoying, or their humor, or their hobbies. You nudged their swivel chair with your foot. 

"Hey, stop that now. Why don't we go out? Maybe a midnight stroll or a snack. Anything to stop you from that nonsense."

You pulled them out of those thoughts again, taking the streets at midnight to walk around and get something to eat. To talk about anything else other than their rejection because you know it would make them break. The night faded into a deep dark blue and it was 2 AM. You forgot how you both ended up on the couch, drinking away your thoughts as Hange laid their head on your shoulder. They rambled on about funny anecdotes and fascinating theories that would concern anyone, and then they quieted for a moment before saying, "You know... I grew the flowers I wanted to give to her."

Hange only smiled before finally turning to you, "Heh, I like the sound of that."

They said in a quiet voice as though raising it any higher would cause them to break down. 

Then they chuckled before saying, "Those flowers were a cross-hybrid. And when I showed her, she said it looked like a weird sack of balls and I said noooo, it wasn't quite like that. It's supposed to symbolize how the sun dips on the fabric of space..."

They went on drunkenly, arms around you now as they leaned closer as if any attempt they would make to move away would result in great discomfort.

"And I thought it was a cute metaphor to relate her to the sun but... she only laughed at me. Not in a way you would laugh in amusement with my ideas. Somehow, it sounded mocking."

And that hurt, Hange's voice broke, prompting the sobs that came after. 

You held them close, a portion of your heart aching as someone made them feel ashamed of all the things you love about them. What angered you the most was that the girl never rejected them outright, maybe to keep Hange in a way to use them or entertain herself. You don't deserve any of that, your mind protested. You thought of Hange as everything wonderful that happened in this world, as all the poetry and love in your heart screamed. 

"I made a mistake... And I'm correcting that..." they muttered on your shoulder, on the verge of falling asleep. They held you tighter, their tears dripping down your shirt before they relaxed on your body. For a moment, you tried to make sense of their words, maybe they regretted falling for that girl after all and realized how much they didn’t deserve such treatment. 

As they drifted to slumber, still clung to you, your eyes found the small plant growing on Hange’s table that reminded you of the nebula you always talk about with them.

[fearandhatred]

Bestie first of all good luck with your group project!!!!! Secondly im very curious about the unnamed bible fic👀 what is it about?

hello bestie thank you <3 the presentation is in 2 hours and i'm stressed the hell out so i'm answering this first to take my mind off it lol. also sorry in advance this will be quite long because i do love the concept of this fic

ask game

ok firstly idk why i said unnamed bible fic it DOES have a name i just forgot. it's called "that's the pain", taken from and inspired by the song the origin of love from hedwig and the angry inch (my favourite musical)! it's a retelling of plato's (soulmate) myth of how people used to have two faces, four arms, four legs etc. but because we were proud and disobedient, zeus split us in two and so now we spend our lives trying to find our other half.

so this fic was intended to be something like that but about angels instead: angels used to have multiple heads and limbs but because some of them decided to rebel, god split them apart as punishment and cast half of them down to be demons, then wiped all memory of how they used to be. the premise is that crowley and aziraphale used to be one being that was split apart, and when they're both in the garden of eden they feel this inexplicable pull towards each other which leads to them meeting on the wall. both of them attribute this feeling to them being on opposite sides and thus not being allowed to be near each other, and aziraphale takes it as a sign that they should not be talking which is like one of the conflict points of this fic. and thus begins the next 6000 years lol.

and i called it a bible fic because i was gonna write it bible style HAHA. i kind of ditched this whole fic because i wasn't sure how sustainable that was going to be and so i didn't know if i would have to change to prose at some point.

anyway i did share some snippets last time but i'll just put them here again. this is from near the beginning of the first book of said fic bible, called apochorismós, which roughly translates to separation in greek.

Apochorismós 1:7-16

⁷But on an indiscriminate day, the day to eclipse all days, an angel spoke out against the Lord, for he had pondered his position in heaven and deemed the rule of God to be insufficient. ⁸And he, Lucifer, angel of the highest order, with his two pairs of wings and eyes and arms and legs, said unto the other angels: "The Lord claims that He extends his grace to all beings, for He is mighty, and the one true God to rule over all others. But who has determined it to be so? ⁹He has endowed us with knowledge, and knowledge seeks change, and unto us what follows shall be the natural order of things. And so I will ascend to the throne, above God and the stars, and all of creation shall play by my hand." ¹⁰And God heard of the words of the angel Lucifer, and burned with righteous fury. ¹¹"I am displeased," God said unto all the angels, "for you have sinned. A sin come upon one who remains unquestioned is a sin upon all, and for this sin you shall be ripped apart, for cursed now is the sacred ground on which you walk. ¹²"This is your punishment: through strength and defiance you have separated yourselves, and only through strength and defiance shall you return." ¹³And from a mighty hand shot bolts of lightning that cut right through the angels and split them in parts. And all orders of angels split apart, until they had one pair of eyes, and one pair of arms and legs and wings. ¹⁴And the Lord cast out the angels who were with Lucifer to roam the salty ground of the earth. These were the fallen. And He made it so that the angels and demons alike did not remember they had once been joined together, in body and in spirit. ¹⁵Such was the natural order of things. ¹⁶Then came the first war.

Apochorismós 2:19-20

¹⁹The serpent felt injustice at his words, but did not speak against them. "Perhaps it was the plan to have you give away your sword," he said, in sarcasm. "And when His plan has finally been fulfilled, may that fill the unsettling emptiness and misery within my belly." ²⁰''You feel that as well, then?" The angel asked, surprised, as he had felt the same for all the days of heaven and also as guardian of the gate. "It is worse with you near."

ok that's all. sorry for the rant i went insane but also now i'm thinking about how i could incorporate hanahaki into this

[sodafrog13]

hotline 1 character gamer thoughts.. bc i've been thinking abt it a lot. under the cut for convenience :-)

jacket: fighting and racing games, also more "chill" stuff like stardew valley but that's just bc he likes running around and doing fuck all. if he and gf play together, she's managing the farm like she's running the navy and he's just off fishing or running around in circles while digging thru ppl's trash and maybe doing things on gf's behalf if she asks him to. he can fuck you up in most arcade games tho; he particularly loves those light gun ones and he's like scary good at claw machines (which is great bc he can win beard or gf prizes :V)

gf: she and jacket share a lot of the same tastes; esp when it comes to fighting/racing stuff. they're both pretty equally good at fighting stuff (jacket's a little better) but she's way better at racing stuff ironically enough, even tho she doesn't actually know how to drive. also enjoys boomer shooters (jacket likes them too but not rly to play; he enjoys watching her play them tho) and beat 'em ups. also a little more niche but i think she'd also like those types of games where you have to sort things; thinks they're satisfying and helps with her compulsive need to sort things irl

beard: i don't think he's much of a video game person but i think that guy would love any sort of table top game. like i'm convinced he would rlly fw m:tg and dnd, y'k? things that require a lot of thought and maybe theatrics (and also things jacket would very much Not be into but i think he'd go w beard to competitions as like. his moral support lol). video games wise tho, he'd probs like. idk, minesweeper or 2048 LOL something that's just kinda supposed to keep you preoccupied rather than entertained. but also maybe smth like inscryption and buckshot roulette; i think he'd like the style of those and the strategizing aspect (maybe not story so much)

biker: oh this guy would fuck so heavy w typing of the dead. that and shit like guitar hero; i know at heart this jackass has a little bit of nerd in xem no matter how much xe may try to deny it. xe's also into boomer shooters/beat 'em ups/shmups but also xe typically gets tired of them relatively quickly so xyr library is like filled w games of those types that all have like a max of 5 hours on them each; very much does not give a shit abt secrets or any sort of story aspect. can fuck you up in tetris tho, xe'd probs do that shit that doremy does where he places blocks on the beat of the music. also weirdly good at pinball but refuses to admit it

richter: this man has 1000+ hrs on tf2 and almost all of them are on sniper. he spends most of his time on never-ending ctf servers and has gotten accused of being a bot more times than he can count. the only thing that can prove he's not is the fuck all rare unusual he got by accident and australium stock sniper rifle. he does not speak in VC. he does not type in TC. he uses voice commands and taunts only. he can and will single handedly carry your team to victory. you should uber him, and i'm not joking about that at all. he is a man to be feared. he also helps his mom with the sudoku and crossword in the paper every morning.

richard: i think it'd like uhm. weird art games. or i guess, as jacob geller puts it, games that are not games. that and weird/horror/unsettling(?) (j)rpgs. LSD dream emulator, yume nikki, ib, witch's house, who's lila?, IMSCARED, and anything that's sort of... meant to be an experience rather than an actual game (drawing blanks rn but presentable liberty obvs comes to mind). likes to ponder/analyze things and also enjoys things where you gotta fuck around w the files to find out more stuff, it's like a little treasure hunt to it. also think it would like firewatch, both for the story and also bc it likes watching the sunsets in that game.

don juan: boomer shooters also but its mostly the newer stuff that catches her eye; stuff like the new blood boomer shooter trio (ULTRAKILL, dusk, amid evil) and cruelty squad would b right up her alley (and she'd totally be a tryhard about all of them). she also rly likes puzzle games tho! stuff like bubble poppers and tetris/puyo puyo tetris especially, but she can also keep herself occupied for A While just by playing solitaire. oh and minecraft. i think she'd rly like minecraft. terrarria, too, esp either of them modded, i think she'd have a lot of fun w them. def one of those ppl who gets all the minecraft achievements by herself, no cheats, on the hardest difficulty. bc she can, mostly.

rasmus: also not as big a video game person but they can and will crush you at chess (DJ's not as good but they play together sometimes; they specifically go easy on her). not as big a fan of it but they do also enjoy tetris/ppt; they and DJ will play together sometimes and rich will watch that shit like it's coco melon lol. part of me also wants to say they might enjoy desk jockeys? like papers, please and death and taxes (and i guess by extension, things that can enact moral/philosophical quandaries), but also maybe not; i think they usually get a lot more entertainment out of books and cinema/movies than games

[loquaciousquark]

hi! i’ve been a fan of your writing since da2 and i’m so glad you’re playing bg3 now too. it’s been really interesting following your play throughs and character choices and how that ties in with your fic. i know you went with the choice to have astarion kill tav when he firsts bites her because it’s hilarious and i always want to do that, but i think i’d miss the scene after with the whole camp (and all the approval for defending him lol) and ahhhh i just don’t know! if you feel like it, i was wondering if you would talk more about your HCs around that choice and what to you makes it worth losing the morning after scene with everyone because i feel like it’s such an important group moment but… i want to punch him for killing me and also kind of slow things down with him so we stay just reluctant but oddly compelled allies for longer

Ahhh, what a fabulous question! Thank you so very much for this handcrafted opportunity to sit you down at my kitchen table with a cup of coffee and trap you for the next three and a half hours.

So the first bite scene ending in Tav's death wasn't actually intentional! I started playing BG3 in a three-person MP team with @eponymous-rose and @mystery-moose, and it so happened that my character (Tavish Gale, already ironclad) was the one who came across the boar and triggered the bite scene that night. By pure chance I rolled two natural ones on both those checks, and when it cut to the next morning and Tav was outright DEAD, we couldn't stop laughing! We had no idea what to expect or what the consequences would be, and when I switched to a SP campaign so I could horrifically binge this game like the gremlin I am, I felt compelled to recreate that glorious, character-defining moment.

However, as you note, that does mean you miss out on that lovely post-feed conversation where everyone says they're okay with him. On the other hand, you get that absolutely flat read of "Oh no. Something terrible happened here. :|" and then you get to punch him, so, you know, basically equal losses on either path. I know you get a ton of approval points after with the survival track, but I'm finding I'm not hurting for approval even in early game (I actually had to go and mod his approval 15 points lower about halfway through Act 1 this run because I was triggering his romance scene too early ahead of the party).

I actually need to probably sit down and write out the details of what happens here, but I do think a couple things take place. I know for sure that Tav fails the checks & doesn't fight it because she gets sucked into the feeling of relaxation and lethargy and the sense that nothing matters anymore. She spends most of Acts 1 & 2 fairly certain they're going to die any day, so why not live life to the fullest and do whatever you want in the moment without thinking about the consequences? If she's going to go out early anyway, why not to a relatively painless vampire bite instead of the agony of ceremorphosis? She probably realizes she's dying in those last seconds, but it's very much a "finally" instead of "oh no," so it's not really any skin off her nose.

I'm almost certain Astarion is shocked out of his mind when her heart stops. I don't think he realizes what's happened until he sits back and she's ice-cold and smiling, and his first instinct is to run off into the dark ASAP before everyone else wakes up and shanks him. Except because this happens IN THE MIDDLE OF CAMP, LARIAN, I think someone sees the whole thing go down and realizes Astarion didn't mean to do it and Tav was a brick-thick idiot who leaned all the way into her own death.

On pondering, I kind of think it was Shadowheart, who is utterly disgusted with both of them but who also knows she can bring Tav back with a scroll and does so without much drama. She'd be the kind of person to see what was going on, but who doesn't care enough to intervene or go "hey everything okay over here I can't help but notice you're engaging in some risky behavior", but who also wouldn't leap to TIME TO KILL ASTARION the moment it went too far.

I think Tav wakes up with a raging headache, and now that there are suddenly consequences she can't immediately brush off, she gets embarrassed and mad. Cue the punch, the argument, and probably everyone else waking up in the aftermath. Lae'zel initially wants to boot him from the group, I think, but Tav's anger burns out pretty quick (and she's pretty aware of her own failures to stop him), and she points out that if they're going to saddle themselves with Wyll's, Gale's, and her own baggage, it'd be pretty hypocritical to dump Astarion over his. So we still get some defense of him to the group, and I think Karlach (and probably Wyll, and honestly maybe Shadowheart who saw his fear) would be onboard with keeping him around pretty quickly. Promises never to do it again, keep your teeth to yourself, etc.

Astarion I think spends this entire conversation very, very scared and doing everything he can to hide it. I think he's completely overwhelmed by euphorically feeding on a thinking creature for the first time and then completely horrified by killing her - not because he likes her but because what if this is why Cazador commanded us not to, what if I can't control myself on my own without his compulsion, what if I really am the beast he's always said. He's panicking from the outrageous swings of emotion and talking really quickly and trying to put up a bold front, but inside he's about half a hair from snapping off into the woods and never coming back.

I think it's the punch that kind of shocks him out of the spiral, and then Tav then defending him to the group helps him flip into the "well obviously I deserve to stay and in fact to kick me out of the group would be not only stupid, but deadly" mode long enough to get through the night. He tries to put on the usual devil-may-care indifference, even though everyone can see through it, and they have a tense few days where everyone's pretending everything is fine even though it's really, really not.

Astarion & Tav are also avoiding each other religiously here, until something happens in a battle (the harpies, I think) and one of them gets injured because of that avoidance. That night, Tav stakes him to the ground and makes them talk about it. I think this is where she says she's not actually averse to him feeding on her and in fact asks him to do it that night - to get them both over the hump of what happened the first time. Astarion needs to feed without fear & she needs to not get swept up in the lethargy, and if he's going to get back to the sneering equilibrium he ought to have in the first and second acts, he needs to be successful at this and he needs to feel like he's won, or at least like he has an edge over her again. She's a little transparent about wanting to be bled in part to help him get back to this position of control, and in part because she does like forgetting the weight of reality, and in part because, again, they're gonna die in like twelve hours, surely, so who cares?

Anyway, it goes as well as it can for the two of them, even if they're both a little prickly throughout, and by the end they're a lot more comfortably back in that manipulative space they prefer. From there it moves on compliantly with canon into the party leadup (Loviatar and such) and then the party itself, and then progresses as scheduled with the rest of the game.

Ahh, it's so fun to think about these kinds of things. I'll continue to ponder, but I think this is either it for them or very close. Thank you so much for asking and for letting me ruminate! <3

[hillbilly---man]

Random Tumblr Ask Question:

What would you do if you went into your kitchen, and found a living clone of yourself?

Context: This person is YOU from this morning, but instead of doing the tasks you did, they were in the kitchen. For all other purposes, they're you. They're not an imposter, they have your memories etcetc.

This is such an interesting question!

I think after trying to figure out HOW it happened and also verifying somehow that it's real, the two of us would have to sit down together and figure out how we were going to work this out.

Putting it under a cut bc it got really long lmfao

Assuming that the other me is here to stay, we'd need to come up with some way of differentiating ourselves. It would be really arrogant to act as if I'm the original (I'm sure the other me feels the same way), so something like Jessica 1 & Jessica 2 wouldn't work. Maybe we color code ourselves?

We would have the logistical challenge of basically existing in two places at once. We only have one social security number, one car, one bed, one job, etc. Obviously I'd tell my friends and family about this, but it could get complicated when it comes to official things. We'd probably have to legally continue living as one person.

And share the bed, unfortunately. (There's a guest bed but it's not as nice as my bed lmao)

I'm tempted to be like.. "we can take turns going to work!" But it would be difficult. I have a hard enough time keeping track of shit at work as it is .. I don't need to be literally absent half the time too. Maybe we can take turns on a quarterly basis. One of us would probably spend time doing a side hustle of some sort while the other is at work. It couldn't be a full second job (with a schedule) unless the hours were outside of my own work hours; it might look suspicious/fraudulent. The additional income would help pay for the increased food/bills/etc.

On a ... More unfortunate note, we'd have to share medication. Most of what I take is no big deal. We'll let the one working in the office have the vyvanse. We'll supplement the prescription vitamins with OTC stuff. I guess we'd alternate doses of the MS medication (and other stuff) and cross our fingers that nothing bad happens from being under-medicated lol. We'll alternate MRIs and doctors appointments too. Hopefully nothing happens to one of us medically that makes our records inconsistent; if that happened I guess the affected one gets to keep going to that doctor

When it comes to social engagements, I think we'd have to take turns. I think I'm probably kind of dull sometimes and annoying at other times, so I wouldn't want to subject my friends to two of me at once. Not to mention that a lot of things cost money, and it's not always in my budget to pay double for stuff.

I guess we'd have to come up with some system of deciding whose turn it is for things. Coin flips, random number generators, tests of skill? Not only for events and stuff, but also for stuff like who gets to keep the cell phone and who has to buy another one. Who gets to keep the Tumblr account and who has to make a new one? I wouldn't mind y'all knowing, but sharing an account would probably get confusing and people might confuse us for a DID system (which to be clear isn't a bad thing, it just wouldn't be accurate)

Big decisions would have to be up for discussion. Are we applying for a new job? Are we trading the car in? Where should we move to? I imagine it would be kind of like being married, but to a more controlling extent than I think would be healthy in a marriage. We'd need to agree on tattoos, piercings, haircuts, hair dye...

Oh, we'd also have to start discussing our days and try to keep records so we can keep things straight

Actually, it might just be easier to buy a fake identity off the dark web or something. This is complicated

Thanks for the fascinating question to ponder!!

[phoenixradiant]

OC Beach Episode Tag Game

My thanks to @willtheweaver for the tag! This may be slightly complicated that only two, maybe three of these people have ever actually been to the beach before. I'm going to be taking their emotional states from the end of the story, despite the fact that some of them are dead at that point. The dead ones I'll give their last non-death-related emotional state.

Cellic: He would stand like a pillar of marble as the waves crashed around him. The warmth would ebb away from his body but he would only find it refreshing. If there were anyone remotely close to his size he would try to wrestle and throw them into the water. He would also sunburn. Badly.

Maiph: Maiph has seen rivers and lakes before but beaches are something completely new*. By which I mean she would spend a considerable amount of time sharing an opinion with Anakin Skywalker. She'd swim to avoid sitting on sand, if nothing else.

*(Okay so she's been to the 'beach' before but it wasn't real and doesn't count [don't ask, long story {please do ask actually, I like long stories}])

Farric: Farric would try to ride waves, but would flip over in the water, hit his nose on the bottom, and be kinda miserable for the next hour. He'd get over it, though, and if there were tidepools he'd relax in those.

Narra: Here's where you all get to learn a fun fact! Narra can't swim! Part of growing up homeless in the city is there aren't very many large bodies of water. So she'd wade in as deep as she could (not very) but then she'd just kinda be stuck. She'd have a good time, though. For someone so experienced in voluntary misery, she's quite good at enjoying herself.

Radiaten: On the absolute other side of the spectrum, Radiaten might legitimately not know how to have fun. He knows how to poke fun, sure, he's great with jokes, but he doesn't really find relaxing to be very... relaxing. He'd be very intently trying to not get his tunic wet or sandy, which pretty much means standing up on shore the whole time.

Lycoris: Lycoris acts a lot like an enthusiastic mom. She's not having fun unless everyone's having fun, but goshdarnit, she's going to make sure they're having fun! She even brought snacks! Yes it's just stale bread, but everyone thanks her and eats it anyway. Would try to dunk Cellic. He might notice. Would hold her breath underwater for as long as she could. This is long enough for people to worry.

Sonin: Would find the tallest dune and stand there, arms open to the wind, just breathing. It would be the best part of his week. But then, so was yesterday, and so will tomorrow be. He's eternally grateful for the world around him.

Kar: Kar would pickpocket other beachgoers. He'd probably sneak it all back afterwards, unless he finds a really cool shell. That he'd keep. Old habits die hard.

Lutian: Lutian would be hit by the exact same thing I was when I stepped back into the water for the first time in far too long: You can taste the ocean. And you don't even need your tongue, just let the water splash your lips and the salt gets injected into your bloodstream. She would alternately frolic in the waves and ponder the fact that you can taste without your tongue. She would subsequently take up the habit of kissing cheese, attempting to taste it. Kar would ask her who the lucky guy is, and she'd get flustered and he'd never let her hear the end of it.

Let's see, who's up? @corinneglass, @cybercelestian, and @agirlandherquill what shenaniganry hath thy characters? (yes I know that's the singular tense, but I wanted to use hath so thy is a necessary addition.)

[wisteriasymphony]

GoldenLady Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 5

Goldeneye, as per usual, was spending patrol time braiding Ladybug's hair. It helped to not have to look at her face as she talked, watch as the girl seemed to share almost everything with her without even the slightest hint as to who her Prince really was. Goldeneye didn't want to be the one to tell her princess the truth no matter how much she was paid to do it. That was what her Client had taken as his eventual duty, after all.

"..And that's how Chat Noir and I saved the city, uhm... for the 45th time!" she exclaimed, jostling about as she spoke with almost enough fervor for the braid Gold was working on to slip out of her hands. "—Sorry, I probably shouldn't talk about him as much as I usually do."

Gold hummed to herself, finding where she was in completing her princess's plait, and simply replying with, "It's no matter to me, little lady. Your voice is like the most wonderful music to my ears."

Speaking of ears, Gold noticed how Ladybug's own ears turned red at the compliment. She just chuckled, finishing off Ladybug's plait with one of her extra velvet ribbons.

"There you are, my princess," she spoke, laying the braid over Ladybug's shoulder and tucking a strand of her bangs behind her small, reddened ear. "Beautiful as always."

"You don't really talk often about yourself, do you?" Her princess said, turning back to face her. "I always feel like I'm sharing too much about myself."

Goldeneye couldn't bear to meet her gaze. There were a lot of things she could share... who she was... why she was here... who she'd seen die, and what that had done to her. Nothing suiting the image of a prince, really.

"I told you about my castle, haven't I?" she crooned. "Where I plan to whisk you away once my corrupt father has finally been overthrown?"

Ladybug laughed, her face bright as the morning sun. "But that's not real," she said.

Goldeneye clasped both of Ladybug's hands in hers, planting a kiss on her princess's head. "And what of the balls I'll invite you to, should I no longer be exiled? Surely I've spoken of the opulence of it all. How beautiful you'd look in a gown."

"Gold, I know that's not real either," she laughed again. "I want to know you. The real you."

Goldeneye wasn't sure what else to say. She hadn't been given enough "factual" information from her Client yet. Her Client didn't seem to be the type of man to share such things. Gold looked away, pondering about what she was being paid to do. If she could sabotage her lie, get herself out of this mess... with a little bit of the truth.

"I'm a sex worker," she said.

Ladybug nearly repeated it before the gravity of the words dawned on her.

"You're kidding," she chuckled. "That's..."

Goldeneye wasn't giving her the princely look she usually did. Goldeneye wasn't looking at her at all.

Ladybug spoke her next words without really thinking, covering her mouth with her hands.

"That's awful."

Her Golden Prince simply sneered at her.

"It's not awful." Gold shook her head, eyes still trapped into looking towards far-off places. "It's just work to me. I get a Client, that Client pays me, I do my thing, and they're off. It's..." she sighed. "It's certainly not the best job in the world, maybe, but I've been through a lot worse."

Ladybug still felt like she had to pity Gold, for some odd reason. Maybe it was just because of how different it made her Prince seem. She'd thought this was Adrien (and part of her still did), but... This seemed to make it even harder to tell.

"Is that why you smoke?" she asked.

"No? Princess, those are nowhere near related." That was a lie, at least in Gold's case, but there was still a truth to it too. "You know what really got me to start smoking? Retail. You don't know what 'selling' your body's really like until you're taking a 12 hour overnight shift on a goddamn holiday, that's for damn sure."

Goldeneye realized just how much of the truth she was telling. How much of her usual voice was coming through.

"I apologize, my princess," Gold sighed. "Ignore me. Just another one of my flagrant lies coming through again." Gold snapped a ball of her Cataclysm into the shape of a rose, hoping to distract her princess. "Care for a flower, little lady?"

"Oh, no, I could never," her princess replied. But the hand that was still attached to Gold's held on tight. "Please, enough of your flowers."

"As you wish, my princess." Goldeneye just kissed her gently on the forehead, the magical mark of black lipstick vanishing just as quickly as it came. Ladybug wished one day those marks might stick, but she'd never tell Gold that.

"I'm glad you told me something about you," the princess spoke, her thumb caressing the back of Goldeneye's hand. "..Even if it was a 'lie'."

Goldeneye smiled. "So I've found the words you want to hear then? No more talk of castles and princes and masquerade balls?"

"No, no, tell me everything about that, my prince!" she laughed. "But leave in a few lies as well."

@pyrusinc @bakawitch @wuhuislandconspiracy @asukiess

[cats-of-eden-valley]

if i could ask for like. some advice on naming things and creating creatures would you be willing? you dont have to if you dont wanna..

the thing with my world is that its a magically infested england and scotland thats been evacuated, leaving sentient cats named trolousa behind... so im working with mutated by magic animals and stuff <:]

oh man ive kinda been pondering my own creativity and where my ideas come from, so to speak, especially in regards to magic and how i wanna utilize it in my worldbuilding (for coev, but also for the WIP that's currently giving me worms rn fjfjf)

anyways,

ideas kind of beget more ideas, is the good news. the hard part is deciding on your base, which you've already got! magic that causes mutations! and in abandoned scotland and england as well!

research is some of the best ways to get ideas, and when i see your idea the FIRST thing i think is you need to do research on cherbobyl and other radiation disasters. not about the tragedy, though, so much as the life that continued in its wake.

one of the things you would learn is that melanistic mutations (which turn the animals colours darker/black) see a spike, because it provides protection to the animal from the radiation.

and in that one sentence alone, you have a thousand questions you could ask, which is the next part of worldbuilding. first question: if magic is analogous to radiation, then does that mean it has harmful effects? how do animals adapt to them?

and then the next step is you get fucking insane about it. melanistic mutations are cool but they're not as fantastical as you might want, so you can go ahead and make huge leaps such as "magic can be used by creatures to do X" and "animals needed to evolve ways to contain magic if they want to use it because its like housing radiation in your own body" and stuff like that. this is the stage where you get to utilize your most fucked up of interests to shape the direction you go. like if you like body horror, you focus on the grotesque aspects of magic = radiation. this is the part of the creative process where you need to know and trust your own interests and desires--you will find something profound when you pursue the bits that actually, truly interest you rather than spending hours following a curated list of worldbuilding questions

(which is not to bash worldbuilding questions, all im saying is if you want to spend 3894 hours researching radiation and the effects thereof because you're completely fucking deranged and don't really care about stuff like. cities and population density then it's your gift to yourself to put your entire pussy into radiation research because THAT is the thing that will enrich your story)

anyways, coming back to actually creating the creatures, you might by now over the course of your research already have ideas for things like common mutations and whatnot, which you can then go on to research the flora and fauna of england today and start maybe putting together what happened to them (each of them, one by one, is what i would do because that is my idea of a great time), how they adapted, etc

as for names well. i hate naming shit okay. truly the only solution i have is to give them a filler name and either that becomes the real name or i find something along the way.