#anyway i'm doing wonderfully

[bittersweetresilience]

it feels cosmically unfair that i think about writing all the time want to write all the time and sit down to write all the time and i come up with two sentences at best. there should be some reward system i think

[finisnihil]

I'm thinking about Sunday again and how we're shown that Robin is his weak spot over and over and really he probably wouldn't have slipped up if not for the people trying to exploit her death.

In 2.0 we see them hanging out together and the like but we don't see them interact much, Robin very obviously cares for Sunday but Sunday maintains a quiet atmosphere and professional facade and as such one could wonder how much he actually cares about her as his sister.

But then at the end of the quest we see the cracks start to show a bit. Sparkle pretends to be Robin and Sunday becomes enraged. Until then he's pretty subdued in his behavior in the aftermath, but the mockery of his sister's death is too great a slight and when Sparkle offers to pretend to be Robin so nobody gets suspicious, Sunday tells her to stuff it and go away which she does. It's a really telling scene that when Robin is involved his careful mask cracks down the middle and he begins to not think clearly or strategically because later in 2.1 it's noted he went back to accept the offer.

Aventurine notes that Robin's death is an entry point for the IPC to exploit but not for the overall Family, just for Sunday. Sunday is reeling to find control with the other heads pressuring him and the IPC closing in like a pack of hungry vultures. Sunday was always alone except for Robin and they're both pretty aware of the corruption as Sunday is desperately trying to root out the traitor while Robin left and is helping him research Death. Aventurine knows this and he knows Sunday is off balance and prone to overlooking things in his rage and grief that's potent in everything he does after 2.0's quest. Sunday went to Ratio for informatiom because he understands Aventurine's a threat needing to be taken seriously and he needs to handle him quickly and efficiently and that makes him sloppy enough to get duped by the Jade cornerstone.

When Welt and Acheron investigate his office they find all the letters and lists and investigations into the problem but they also find a beloved lightcone of a young Sunday watching his sister preform on a toy stage. Robin is noted as finding this preformance her favorite and most cherished one. Is Sunday clapping to applaud her or is he keeping time for her? Sunday keeps things running himself so she can free to persue her dreams. He does care about Robin, they really only have each other.

Finally... Gallagher. You really see the persona Sunday puts on finally shatter all at once. This is the man who murdered his sister and who's caused him so much trouble and stress. Nobody's around to fool, nobody's around to witness, and you finally see all his pent up rage and grief spill out. That's his mistake, he's so distracted letting out his bottled up feelings Gallagher's able to get him before he can even react.

Small side analysis, Robin's name and signature song come from the Emily Dickinson poem of the same name. She's an American Poet who mostly wrote works of Romanticism and Transcendentalism. We haven't see much of Robin but she seems to match Romantacism, a literary movement that focused on emotion and individualism with no regard for logic. Sunday seems to match Transcendentalism, a literary movement that focused on the relationship between humanity, the divine, and nature with little regard for science. The three aspects of Transcendentalism also match Xipe's motif of threes, like their three heads.

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[nerdcrawfish]

DEADLOCK?! Never heard of him...

[sysig]

Idiot hours 💖 (Patreon)

[tonhalszendvics]

Pictures: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.

One for the pair who got lost in the sea. They had a bunch of problems in the head even before the Banishing of the Names. They were Bendemon and ...

[margindoodles2407]

Something about wearing a dress and makeup and heels and doing my hair all fancy is like. Freeing. In a way. Like it's so different from my normal tshirt-jeans-workboots-bun-to-keep-my-hair-out-of-my-face vibe. But I enjoy it just as much. It's nice to be pretty

[izzy-b-hands]

Been a lot of big changes, things to plan for, scary things we've been worrying about re: the state of the world as of the last week or so, but

One really good thing has happened within that time:

Next March, we'll be signing the license and likely having a little ceremony at one of the first beaches Housemate ever took me to (bc we're keeping it small and chill; we don't need to pay for a venue lmao)! I'm so happy and excited 💚🧡!!!!!!!

[mariocki]

New Scotland Yard: And When You're Wrong (1.13, LWT, 1972)

"You sent for me."

"I sent for you four days ago."

"I didn't get the message till yesterday."

"Right, you can put your diary down. Where have you been?"

"Busy."

"Doing what?"

"You know what I'm doing."

"I know what you're supposed to be doing, nobody seems to know what you're actually doing."

"You'll have my report when it's all wrapped up."

"I'll have it now. Whatever you were playing at before, you're now a witness in a murder case."

[curlicuecal]

playing science telephone

Hi folks. Let's play a fun game today called "unravelling bad science communication back to its source."

Journey with me.

Saw a comment going around on a tumblr thread that "sometimes the life expectancy of autism is cited in the 30s"

That number seemed..... strange. The commenter DID go on to say that that was "situational on people being awful and not… anything autism actually does", but you know what? Still a strange number. I feel compelled to fact check.

Quick Google "autism life expectancy" pulls up quite a few websites bandying around the number 39. Which is ~technically~ within the 30s, but already higher than the tumblr factoid would suggest. But, guess what. This number still sounds strange to me.

Most of the websites presenting this factoid present themselves as official autism resources and organizations (for parents, etc), and most of them vaguely wave towards "studies."

Ex: "Above And Beyond Therapy" has a whole article on "Does Autism Affect Life Expectancy" and states:

The link implies that it will take you to the "research studies" being referenced, but it in fact takes you to another random autism resource group called.... Songbird Care?

And on that website we find the factoid again:

Ooh, look. Now they've added the word "some". The average lifespan for SOME autistic people. Which the next group erased from the fact. The message shifts further.

And we have slightly more information about the study! (Which has also shifted from "studies" to a singular "study"). And we have another link!

Wonderfully, this link actually takes us to the actual peer-reviewed 2020 study being discussed. [x]

And here, just by reading the abstract, we find the most important information of all.

This study followed a cohort of adolescent and adult autistic people across a 20 year time period. Within that time period, 6.4% of the cohort died. Within that 6.4%, the average age of death was 39 years.

So this number is VERY MUCH not the average age of death for autistic people, or even the average age of death for the cohort of autistic people in that study. It is the average age of death IF you died young and within the 20 year period of the study (n=26), and also we don't even know the average starting age of participants without digging into earlier papers, except that it was 10 or older. (If you're curious, the researchers in the study suggested reduced self-sufficiency to be among the biggest risk factors for the early mortality group.)

But the number in the study has been removed from it's context, gradually modified and spread around the web, and modified some more, until it is pretty much a nonsense number that everyone is citing from everyone else.

There ARE two other numbers that pop up semi-frequently:

One cites the life expectancy at 58. I will leave finding the context for that number as an exercise for the audience, since none of the places I saw it gave a direct citation for where they were getting it.

And then, probably the best and most relevant number floating around out there (and the least frequently cited) draws from a 2023 study of over 17,000 UK people with an autism diagnosis, across 30 years. [x] This study estimated life expectancies between 70 and 77 years, varying with sex and presence/absence of a learning disability. (As compared to the UK 80-83 average for the population as a whole.)

This is a set of numbers that makes way more sense and is backed by way better data, but isn't quite as snappy a soundbite to pass around the internet. I'm gonna pass it around anyway, because I feel bad about how many scared internet people I stumbled across while doing this search.

People on quora like "I'm autistic, can I live past 38"-- honey, YES. omg.

---

tl;dr, when someone gives you a number out of context, consider that the context is probably important

also, make an amateur fact checker's life easier and CITE YOUR SOURCES

[ruinix]

I literally can’t stop thinking about Quinn fucking you til you’re shaking and sobbing and begging him to stop but he knows you’ll be a good girl for him and let him fuck you harder and harder until he’s satisfied too and ohhh mmmyyy goooddddd I need a smut plspslsplsozlzlzlzlzlsjcisndkakL

Ummm...that's basically my dream, lovely. Be fucked until I can't take it anymore. i sob. Every day I wake up and I feel like I am losing my sanity coz no one is fucki—Sorry, I'm just a whore in a drought. Anyway...just a short one. Lil mini blurb.

18+. Whore thoughts. Overstimulation. Unprotected sex. Slight mention (reminder) of safe word. Slight spit kink. Cum eating. ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Quinn would stare down at the mess—the mixture of his cum and yours making a ring around his cock while your arousal dripped out of your wet and soppy cunt—while he fucked you ruthlessly from behind. He could feel you tremble as you let out your whines. His ears picking up every sobbing moan, every sound of skin hitting skin, every filthy noise escaping your cunt as he rutted into it.

At this point, your bodies were slicked with sweat. Not a faint shine over you skin. No. Your sweats were dripping down your heated bodies, your hair sticking to your skins. Too sweaty that Quinn needed to grab tightly at your hips to keep you up, his nails slightly digging into your skin to keep you up, to help your messy thrusts, to keep you from slipping away. You were not allowed to do that. Not when his cock ached for release. Not when your pussy felt so fucking perfect, squeezing and clenching around him so perfectly. Not when he missed this after a long week of being away.

"Oh, fuck, Quinn!" You screamed, grasping at your pillow, your pussy pulsing as you came again.

Quinn wanted to say the exact number of many times you came, but he would be lying, because he lost count after six, lost his fucking mind after he unloaded his cum so deeply into your pussy. He couldn't think straight, only needing to feel the sensation of your orgasm around him as his own kept getting near.

He held himself back. He wanted to last. Longer than he ever been. He just needed you so much. Too horny, too riled up. He needed more and more and more. He didn't want to stop. He couldn't. He can't. Every fiber of his being recoiled from the mere thought of stopping. He wanted to be satiated by the sight of you as a puddle beneath him. He wanted to see you all fucked out.

A sudden need to kiss and smell and bite you arised within him, so he leaned down, nudging your knees to spread wider, his one hand flattened down on your lower back, making you arch into the bed, promising in his head that he would give you a massage the next day to soothe your sore muscles. Once he almost flattens you still keeping you—somehow—on your knees, he kissed your shoulder blades, then your nape after he swiped your hair away. He inhaled your deep and heady scent. You smelled so sweet yet so erotic, like sex. Like the very air wafting around both of you. So he bit down lightly, chuckling as he heard your moans and pants, and your pleas for more.

So he gave you more. His hand slipped between your legs, teasing your sensitive clit, making you writhe and almost thrash against him, your thighs quivering, your tears falling over your wonderfully flushed cheeks.

"Too much, Quinn," you complained, trying to peek at him.

Quinn helped you, his other hand gripped your neck, helping you crane your head up. You looked so pretry and vulnerable like that. Your lips parted. You looked so fucking thirsty with the way your eyes went to his lips then back up his eyes. You were clearly waiting for something. He knew what you were seeking. He licked his lips, his mouth instantly watering.

"Then say your word," he groaned, feeling his saliva pooled under his tongue. "We can always stop."

A broken sob escaped you as he fucked into you. Deeper. Rougher. His ears were opened for that one single word to escape your pretty lips. You only needed to say your safe word and he would stop. Even if he didn't want to. Even if all of him ached for—

"No," you refused.

Quinn thrusted all of his length inside you then paused. He marked the fire lit in your eyes. It was hot and burning, threatening to build and scorch the lands. It was breathtaking. You were breathtaking. He took your lips in a deep kiss, but only for a few seconds. The moment he parted from you, he hovered over your face, marvelling at how wider you part your lips. He gave in. He slowly spit into your lips, letting his saliva trail down from his lips and into yours.

"Filthy, filthy girl." He finally let go of your neck, his hips moving in a perfectly fast yet so deep and raw pace. "My filthy girl."

"Yes," you cried out.

"You'll let me use your sweet pussy like a good girl, won't you?" He kissed your ear, nipping you. "You're my good girl, right? My sweet girl."

Your pussy squeezed around him, as you nodded, mumbling your 'yes, yes, yes' like it was your mantra. You were simply so divine. He leaned back, lifting your hips up. He lifted his left leg, anchoring his foot onto the bed. A leverage so he could fuck you harder. Because it was clear he wasn't the only one who was desperate.

He wouldn't stop. Fucking you like it was his last day on Earth. Muttering praises in his voice had gotten lower and gravelly, needing to make you understand how much of a good little slut you were for him. Gripping your hips, your waists, your tits. Teasing your clit. Slapping his hand against your ass. He would never stop.

Not when you started to beg for a break, because you haven't said your word which a separate one from your safe word that coulf halt this.

Not when his cock turned softer after he filled you up with another load, because he was still half-fucking-hard so he could still fuck you through his overly sensitive cock, through his blurring vision. He knew he would get fully hard anyway.

Not when you finally complained about your back, so he would simply remedied it by turning you over your back with a pillow under your hips.

Not when you couldn't stop coming.

He would only stop when he couldn't get hard anymore, because he fully drained himself, because your cunt has taken everything.

However, the sight of your leaking pussy would push his hunger to consume him. He would kissed your lips, your jaw, your neck, your collarbones, your tits, your trembling tummy, and finally your pussy. He would greedily lap from your quivering entrance to your throbbing clit, swallowing the mess—mostly his fucking cum but he didn't fucking care—tasting the mixture of both of you. It was exquisite.

He would do it again and over again. He would clean you while eating you out, his nose bumping and grinding at your clit.

As your thighs wrap around his head, your fingers finding his hair, he would wish he could still get hard because he wanted to take you for eternity.

His heart ached as it raced in full speed.

He realized he would only need more of you.

He just couldn't get enough.

A bit of bad news: I am horny. WHAT?! What I meant to say: I need Quinn. Wha——Jk. My current drabbles are...getting stuck in my word file. Sorry.

Anyway, hope you liked this. Good night!! 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

-> more thoughts? List.

[miniimight]

❝ CAN YOU STOP PUTTING EVERYTHING ON THE TOP SHELVES?! ❞ you finally talk to him after a little argument ( height difference )

with deku, bakugou, rody

IZUKU

he tried to look nonchalant as he responded with a questioning hum. yeah, he was putting stuff on the top shelves. "hmm, what?"

you crossed your arms and glared at him. "you heard me."

he turned to you with the picture of innocence plastered on his face. "i don't know what you mean, i just put things where i put them. it just happens that they're high up."

you raised an accusatory eyebrow.

"for you, anyway." he mumbled, turning back to make his sandwich.

"exactly!" you exclaimed. "for me! you know i can't reach things up there and you do it on purpose!" you found your face was hot as you explained it.

you knew exactly why—you both had gotten into a little fight and you weren't talking to him for a while. this was the first time you had spoken since the argument, and even though you were yelling at him, your voice was music to his ears.

a small smile spread on his face despite his efforts to feign innocence. "on purpose?"

"yes!"

he paused, walking towards you. his disregard for space led to you being crammed against the counter behind you. he leaned over you and asked, "what it is that you need, love?"

your cheeks heated and you cast your gaze to the floor. "the box up there..." you murmured. he stretched to reach it and you flattened your palms against his chest. "izuku! you're squishing me—!"

he chuckled and brought the box down to the counter before kissing your forehead. "i'm glad we're talking again."

BAKUGO

"what was that?" he asked you, a knowing smirk on his face.

you huffed, already on top the counter trying (and failing) to reach the stupid box you needed. "i said stop putting shit on the top shelves. you know i can't reach it."

he shrugged, turning his attention back to his phone. "i dunno what you're talkin' about, princess."

you glared and pointed to the box. "you don't even use it?!"

"aw, don't jump the gun on me now, babe. you know i like to switch things up a lil' bit." he grinned, taking so much joy in your visible frustration. he was just happy you were speaking with him again.

you rolled your eyes, electing to ignore him as you tried your best not to fall off the surface or pull the cabinet down with you.

bakugo eyed you carefully as he threw away the thought of you begging for his help, reluctantly decided your immediate safety was more important. "'kay, that's enough." he walked over, his hands on your hips steadying your wobbly movement. "you'll hurt yourself, y/n. come down."

"i want that stupid box..." you pouted.

he rolled his eyes, his arms now circling around you as he lifted you off the counter. you gasped and curled your legs towards your body, clutching his wrists.

"oh, relax, you know i won't drop ya." he grumbled and set you down next to him. he easily plucked the box from its high perch, handing it to you.

"happy now?" he pinched your cheek. "stubborn brat. could've broken a bone or somethin'."

RODY

"what, having trouble sweetheart?" he snickered.

your face heated and you huffed. "rody... just get it for me, please."

"hmmm..." he pretended he was thinking hard. "i think... no."

you looked at him incredulously. "no? you put it up there!"

"i so did not." he turned up his nose, though pino was smiling and nodding her head.

you narrowed your eyes at him. "you're sabotaging me into breaking your silent treatment."

"whaaaat?" he exaggerated confusion. he held his head and pointed at himself dumbly. "me?"

"you're impossible." you rolled your eyes, moving to climb onto the counter.

"in any case, my plan worked wonderfully," his signature smirk graced his lips as he laughed softly, leaning against the wall to survey your distress.

your fingers just about brushed the side of the box before pino crashed into it, sending it further back and completely out of your reach. you swiveled to glare at the little pink bird. "pino!"

she bashfully twirled in the air before happily fluttering away.

rody's laughter filled your ears and you groaned, resting your head against the shelf. you heard shuffling—when you looked up, rody and his stupid smug smirk was beside you, easily bringing the box down.

"now we both look stupid, yeah?" he pressed a fat kiss on your cheek and softened when you laughed brightly.

© miniimight ! thanks for reading <3

[district4loading]

Lazy Days

Twice Mina x Male Reader

4K Words

Content Warning: Smut, Fluff

Minors DNI

A/N: This is another request I received almost a month ago. I really hate that it took me so long to get to it especially because it isn't even that long. It's probably cause for the past few weeks I've been stressed and I've had bad headaches which really killed my motivation lol.

Anyways enough of my bitching, I really enjoyed writing this one cause Mina's been wrecking me lately so I hope you guys like it.

-

"You let me win, didn't you?"

-

"There's no way" You blink, your entire body running stiff as you watch the small pixelated character you created maybe four hours ago shrivel up and die in one of the worst ways imaginable. In the same instance you glance over to your girlfriend Mina, who's sitting right next to you on the couch. Although she doesn't look at you, you can see the smirk on her face and you begin to process that she just beat you. Again. "You've gotta be cheating!" You accuse, pressing the respawn button on your controller.

"No" She insists cutely with her whiny tone of voice "I'm just better than you" The simple shrug of her shoulders has you a bit salty. 

It's been like this all day. You both had today off, so really and truly there was no better way to spend it than to sit around all day playing video games. Truth be told, you were never a gamer before you met Mina. When she moved in with you, she brought her console too and you slowly went from watching her play occasionally to playing with her and even more than her sometimes.

"Yeah right, one more game" You run a hand through your messy hair.

Mina loves how stubborn you are, she sees it as one of your cutest traits. She just knows that although you say "one more game" you really mean "we'll play until I beat you" and it's even funnier that you refuse to admit that part.

Sure enough you end up playing four rounds instead of the 'one' you spoke of earlier "Don't you think we should be doing something else?" Mina mutters, reluctantly pressing the button for a rematch when you lose again. She glances at the time, noticing that you two have been at this all morning and it was just bleeding into the afternoon.

"Like what?" You bite your lip subconsciously, something you always did when you were trying to focus. 

"I dunno, you hungry? We could order something, watch tv, maybe go out later.." She suggests, but you barely hear any of it because not even a second after she finishes her sentence, you manage to finally beat her in the combat game. 

"Ha! See? You're not better than me, look I just beat you" You stand up and point to the tv. Mina only puts her controller to the side and she smiles at you calmly, nodding. It doesn't really matter to you in the moment that you've played maybe a total of sixteen matches, four of which you actually won. You silently appreciate her for not bringing up that part either. "Okay, what were you saying?" You turn off the console and plop back down on the couch.

"Maybe" She looks like she's actually thinking for a moment, then in the same instance she kind of stops and she gets this look on her face. An almost devilish smirk replaces her pondering pout and you're almost immediately intrigued about what's to come "I should give you a reward for winning"

She only has to scoot closer to you and lean her head in a few inches to catch your lips on hers. You kiss her back, hands on her waist so you can pull her to sit on your lap. "What kind of reward?" You decide to humor her cause why not and she can't hide her giggles when she presses on your shoulder to get you to lay back.

"Just lay down" Mina's voice is so wonderfully soft, almost healing to your ears when she says the three words. You first prop one of the throw pillows up against the armrest and you rest your head against it. Still in your lap, Mina leans down to put her lips back on yours and you can't get enough of them. So smooth and tender as you make out in your cozy living room.

When Mina pulls away, she shuffles backwards a bit and with the space she has, she lays flat on her belly between your legs. It's a big couch so she's able to fit there nice and comfy, arms resting on your thighs as she tugs on the waistband of your shorts and you lift your hips to help her out.

 "You let me win, didn't you?" You figure

"Well, how else was I supposed to get your cock in my mouth?" She teases, pulling the garments off your legs. Your cock springs free from its confinements, semi-hard from the bit of kissing you did earlier. 

"You could've just a-asked—" Your tone of voice changes mid-way when Mina wraps her lips around your head, her moist inner cheeks wonderfully stimulating each nerve. 

She releases you with a subtle pop then she curls her fingers around your shaft, stroking up and down. "Where's the fun in that" The way she giggles feels a little more sinister and it genuinely sends a chill down your spine as you grow harder and harder in her hands. 

Mina leans over, sticking her tongue out to flick it against your tip "God" You bite your lip, forgetting to breathe while you make eye contact. It's like there's a greater force gluing your eyes to her making it impossible for you to look away. When she's got your cock at it's hardest—which doesn't take very long at all—she opens her mouth and takes you inside.

The descent is slow and easy for her for the first few inches. She starts to struggle the further she gets down and you're unable to focus on anything but the warmth of her mouth, the saliva coating your entire shaft and the tight squeeze her mouth gives your cock whenever she gags or swallows. It has your jaw clenching already. 

You grasp your t-shirt in your hands then you pull it over your head, stretching the cheap fabric a bit because you were rushing. "Mina" You sigh, as she gets her lips to touch your base. Tears welled up in her pretty eyes. They threaten to fall as she holds herself there and the absolute clutch of her throat is nearly perfect. 

First she has to remind herself to breathe through her nose before she comes up. Mina stops when she reaches the head then she plunges again, sliding your cock down the slot of her throat easier this time around. She manages to get herself in a rhythm, cheeks hollowed as she sucks you off, tongue dragging up and down the underside of your cock. "You're so good at that" You praise, lips parted as you take in the wonderful view.

Mina's so beautiful, you could spend hours just admiring her face, scanning each beauty mark and every subtle blemish on her porcelain skin. "So pretty" You whisper and she hums softly to let you know that she acknowledges your compliment. There's more you want to say but the words get caught up and stuck in your throat because she's got you speechless right now. As her eyes pierce through yours, you hope that she can understand at least a fragment of the love you feel for her in this moment. "I love you" You groan the confession like it's the first time you're saying it.

She comes back up, licking her lips as she wraps her hand around your base. She strokes you slowly and softly, that same shy giggle escaping her lips and you get high on it. "I love you more" Her tongue darts out to lick up the pre cum that's beginning to dribble down your shaft. Then she rubs the pad of her thumb in circles on your frenulum.

A moan escapes your lips and your body begins to squirm as she attacks the sensitive spot there. You have to bite your lip to stop yourself from whimpering. She fists your cock again, then chases it with her mouth up and down with the twist of her wrists. 

You reach your hand out, running your fingers through her newly dyed ash hair and you brush it to the side when you notice that it was getting in the way. Her hand and her mouth moves together fast and you're not sure how much longer you'll be able to take it for. The way she can have your body almost trembling under her magical touch will always amaze you, no matter how many times she does this.

"M-Mina I'm close—fuck" You warn but she won't slow or stop. In fact, she's squeezing and sucking harder like she needs your load in her mouth as soon as possible. You know she'll swallow it all.

You end up biting into your fist, eyes squinting as your brows knit together right up until you cum. "Shit, I'm gonna.." Your cock pulses out the first few shots which hit the roof of Mina's mouth. She isn't at all phased by it though, in fact, she keeps her movements steady as she milks you for everything you've got, moaning eagerly at the taste. You finish it all off with a sigh and then she finally stops, taking you out of her mouth carefully so nothing spills out. 

Mina opens her mouth, proudly showing you the flood of semen thats pooled up inside where it belongs. Then she closes her lips together and she stops for a moment before she gulps it down. "You're amazing" You pant, watching weakly as she climbs up your body so you're face to face. She smiles before connecting your lips and your hands go to the hem of her top almost immediately and you slip them under just to feel her soft, bare skin on your hands.

She breaks the kiss, then she pulls her top off and her petite breasts are finally free "These too" You pull at the clingy fabric of her leggings, hearing the light noise it makes when it snaps back. 

"You ready for me already babe?" 

"You know I am" a smile grows on her face as she stands up from the couch to shimmy herself out of them, her hips swaying side to side with a naughty purpose. Finally, she steps out of them and kicks them to the side "Wait, leave them on" she stops just as she's about to take her panties off. She's wearing this black lacy underwear that clings to her ass so beautifully, it'd be a crime to remove them when they look so good on her.

Mina only shakes her head, a chuckle escaping her lips as she straddles you again "You're such a weirdo" She mutters, not giving you the chance to respond because she's making out with you again. This kiss lasts a little bit longer because you want to take your time with her perfect lips, sucking and licking on them as it gets sloppier. She begins moaning into your mouth because of the pressure your hard cock provides while it's pushed up against her cunt. "Fuck" She curses, lightly biting your lip as she grinds her hips forwards.

She reaches down, kissing you harder this time as she slides her dampened panties to the side because she doesn't want to spend another second empty. Mina has to hover a bit as she grabs your cock to aim the head with her slick entrance but she's so soaked that it ends up slipping past. You try not to, but you end up snickering and she glares at you before trying again. This time she gets it in, you know that much from the first feel of her tight cunt gripping the head. 

You both exhale deeply as Mina sinks herself down slowly, taking this opportunity to enjoy the stretch of your thick cock. When she's got you stuffed as deep as the position would allow, Mina picks up her hips and begins to rock forwards in slow motions. "So deep in me, it feels so good ah~"

The way Mina moves her body so smooth and fluid has you falling in love with her all over again. You let a harsh slap land on her round ass, hearing the sound of the sharp impact echo loudly in your living room. She yelps loudly, leaning over to hold herself up on your shoulders so she can move faster. Her warm walls hug you tightly, occasionally clenching when she closes the gap between you two. Your cock fits so perfectly inside of her, it's like you were made for each other.

"Mina" You moan once she begins to move her hips in a circular motion. It feels so insane that now you're gripping her ass tightly, probably leaving red hand marks on her pale skin. 

"Like that?" Mina smirks, looking deep into your hooded eyes moaning when your cock brushes past her g-spot. She puts her hands over yours, then guides them both up to her perky tits. You feel her stiff nipples poking your palms as you take the initiative to squeeze and knead the soft flesh thoroughly. "God your cock—it's so" She moans again, throwing her head back so her hair flys out of her face.

This is the perfect visual. Mina's god-like body on top of yours, every dangerous and deadly curve of hers highlighted with the sheet of sweat on her skin. Her eyes closed and her mouth wide open as she moans about how good your dick is, how she can ride it all day long and how it's tearing her apart among another mess of words you can't really make out. You listen good and well to everything she's saying because she absolutely means it, you can tell that much from the utter lust in her tone.

Mina lets herself loose on you like she's been thinking about it all day, thinking about how you'll fill and fuck her with your large cock. You're only able to watch as the subtle indicators begin to show themselves. Like when her moans go up an octave or when her movements become less calculated and more messy and feral. You also notice the way she leans down, capturing your lips once more and you can tell it's a silent plea for you to do something.

So that's exactly what you do. You hold her in place by her hips and you begin to piston your cock into her, your thighs meeting hers to make this thick meaty slapping noise. She nearly screams, unable to focus on kissing you when you're fucking her like this. "Yes! Fuck- Harder!" So much raw force, it's almost punishing. However, your purpose wasn't to "punish" her, it was more so to reward her for everything she did beforehand. 

She understands that.

When Mina buries her head into your neck, you're a hundred percent sure that you've got her right there. She breathes heavily into your skin, moaning and choking on her words with each deep thrust you give her. She hums loud and long "I'm cumming!" and then you begin to feel how tightly her cunt clenches and pulses around your cock as her wetness spills down your shaft. "Fuck- Yes baby!" She begins to shake, her body jerking and bucking in your grip.

With a long sigh, she stops calms down a bit, the aftershocks still causing her body to react occasionally. You give her maybe a second to recover before you slip your cock out of her and flip her so she's on her back. She's so out of it, she doesn't even realize that you've switched positions until you slide your cock back inside of her where it belongs. Mina gasps, feeling your cock reach different parts of her at this angle.

"I can't fucking-" What she's trying to say is that she can't believe that you're fucking her so good. Hard and deep. That's exactly how she likes it as you recall, and you've hardly even given her a moment to recover from the orgasm you just fucked her through. "Cum in me" she looks deep into your eyes when she says it and she's so serious about it.

You lean down, your temple to hers as you nearly fuck her through the couch. You're a little rough on her, you know that because you can hear the springs in the furniture starting to give. It's not really built for this kind of treatment but it's durable and it's been through worse than this.

The more your cock slides in and out of her, dragging all the way back to the tip only to bury itself into her again, the more animalistic you feel. It's the tight grip, her velvety walls and her hoarse voice moaning your name that's got you like this. You want nothing more than to empty your balls inside of Mina, fill her up and keep it lodged so deep that none of it spills out.

You barely even notice when you push her into another orgasm because you're too focused on that distinct feeling growing and burning like a hot ball of fire in the pit of your stomach. "Oh... I'm gonna cum" You grit through your teeth, voice rough just before you nearly growl as you cum again, shooting countless ropes of warm white into her stretched cunt. She gasps, legs shaking as you continue to pound deep and slow into her, making sure you get everything out.

"Yeah, give me everything baby" She coos, fingers interlocking at the back of your neck. 

With a sigh your body finally relaxes and you put all of your weight on her body. When you're finally ready to talk after the long moment of silence you spend in your post-orgasm daze you lift your head and look into Mina's eyes. You know she's expecting your usual "I love you" after sex but instead you decide to mess with her a bit "So... pizza?"

She blinks "What?"

"Earlier you mentioned that we could order something and watch TV, right? I was just suggesting that we get pizza" She gives you an expecting look, like she's not going to give you a straight answer until you tell her what she really wants to hear "and I love you" You add on, leaning down to connect your lips with a grin on your face.

She can't help it when she smiles "Okay pizza then" she agrees.

-

You begin to think that maybe it wasn't the smartest idea to order pizza right before getting in the shower because you're both just stepping out when you hear the doorbell ring. Mina wraps her towel around her body "Well you're gonna have to get it cause I'm naked" She nods to herself as if there wasn't a towel wrapped around your waist also.

"So am I?" You try to argue as she walks into your bedroom. Her calm silence says enough and you figure you should just get the food cause you definitely won't win that fight. When you open the door, the delivery guy looks at you a little weird but you still tip him generously and mutter a small "thank you" at the end of the exchange.

When you get back in your shared apartment, you place the pizza on the coffee table and you turn off the lights before you join her in the bedroom to get into something comfy. 

"I can't believe you're making me watch this" Mina snuggles herself against you, squinting a bit to read the description of the show on the tv screen. You're cuddling and eating on the couch, yes the same couch you just fucked on, it's multi-purpose. You snicker at your own joke before realizing what she's just said.

"So you're genuinely telling me, you didn't enjoy the first season?" You ask, taking a bite of your pizza. It's only got pepperoni on it but it's a classic nonetheless.

Mina shakes her head "No I hated it actually" She corrects you, turning her head with her mouth open. You move your hand away, catching that she's trying to eat your food. She only whines, giving you those adorable eyes.

"There's like seven more slices right there, why do you want to eat mine" You point to it, nodding your head in the direction of the small table before you pick up the remote to play the show. 

It's Squid Game 2 that you're watching as you allow Mina to take a rather large bite of your pizza anyways, despite giving her a hard time about it. "I didn't wanna move" She says as she chews.

"Sure" You scoff, acting like you didn't absolutely love feeding her. Just babying Mina in general is one of your favorite things to do with her. She knows that from the way you swipe off a bit of tomato sauce from the corner of her lip but she fails to bring it up because she too enjoys it.

See there's nothing better than a lazy day in your book. It may have been really unproductive, but sometimes a little bit of a recharge with the person you love the most is the little boost you need to make the most of the following week.

Lazy days are good days

[riality-check]

The eagerly awaited part 2 of the DILF!Steve concert saga is here!! Part 1, in case you missed it.

"You're not going."

"Come on! I haven't thrown up in an hour!"

"The drive to the venue is an hour and a half."

"Steve-"

"And if you throw up in my car-"

"Oh my God-"

"I'll kill you."

Steve doesn't need to see Dustin's eye roll in order to feel the full force of it through the phone.

"I'll just kill you. You'll have a headstone within the week that says Here Lies Dustin Henderson: Rightfully Murdered for Puking in Steve Harrington's Car," he continues as he packs Capri-Suns into the cooler for the car ride.

He doesn't remember ever being that thirsty as a kid, but if Anna wants strawberry kiwi, Anna gets strawberry kiwi. It helps that it's Steve's favorite flavor, too.

"I'd need a big ass headstone to fit all of that," Dustin snaps.

"Your big-ass ego would demand no less, shithead," Steve shoots back.

"Swear jar, Daddy!" Anna calls from her room, across the house because while she doesn't listen to Steve when he's right in front of her, she can hear him break the swear jar rule from halfway across the world.

He zips up the cooler, fishes a quarter out of his pocket, and throws it into the half-full soup can next to the stove.

(A quarter doesn't mean much, but Anna doesn't know that. The day Steve teaches that kid about inflation is the day his pockets become permanently empty.)

"Did she just swear jar you?" Dustin asks from over the phone.

"You baited me into it."

"I did no such thing."

Steve rolls his eyes. "You're not coming, though, are you?"

Dustin sighs, and, for all his teasing, Steve does genuinely feel bad. "I still feel like if I breathe wrong, I'll hurl, so, no. I don't think I'll manage the car ride, nevermind the actual show."

"Sorry dude."

"Don't be. Some dickhead will live stream the whole thing on Instagram, anyway. I'll live vicariously through them."

Steve snorts and picks up the cooler. He got Anna dressed beforehand, so it's just a matter of getting her to stop playing with whatever toy she dug up - Play-Doh has been the fixation of the week - in her room so they can go.

"Besides," Dustin continues, and Steve hates where this is going. "Anna loved the show, and you've got a reason-"

"Nope," Steve says, knocking on Anna's door. "Don't finish that sentence."

"All I'm saying-"

"I know what you're gong to say, which means you know my answer. I don't date."

Anna opens her door. From the little Steve can see inside, there are at least three containers of Play-Doh open and strewn across the floor. He thinks her Barbies are involved in it somehow.

"Time to go," Steve says, and he thinks, Please don't let there be Play-Doh in the Barbie hair.

"Five more minutes," Anna tries.

"Nope. Clean up and roll out."

"Hi, Anna," Dustin says through the phone.

"Uncle Dusty!" Anna shrieks, and she starts jumping up and down. "Are you comin', too?"

Dustin sighs, and Steve can't tell if it's at the nickname or if he's still cursing the universe. "No, but you and your dad have a great time, okay?"

"Can you, can you tell Daddy I should get five more minutes?"

Steve raises his eyebrows at her. Anna, to her credit, ignores him wonderfully.

"If you clean up," Dustin says, because he's actually Steve's favorite person right now, "you get to do more headbanging at the concert."

Anna gasps like Steve didn't already tell her that earlier today, and she gets to work on putting her toys away. Steve helps, of course, and he finds that there is, in fact, Play-Doh in two of her Barbies' hair.

Fun. They're going to turn into Buzzcut Barbies when Anna goes to sleep because he can already tell that they are the furthest thing from salvageable.

But that doesn't matter right now. What matters is getting Anna in the car, deploying the first two of many strawberry kiwi Capri Suns from the cooler, and making the drive to the venue, which Steve does with minimal road rage and accompanied by the Disney radio station.

Success by all metrics, really.

Dinner might as well be now, so Steve shells out a truly disgusting amount of money for overpriced chicken nuggets and fries at the venue. Anna will only eat half her portion but say she's hungry later, but that's what the snacks and water Steve smuggled in via his jacket are for.

They get to their seats, dinner finished up, just as the lights go down for the first opener. Steve looks to his left, half-expecting Eddie and his friends to be there before remembering that they won't be.

He tries not to feel too disappointed. He fails miserably.

The seat next to him, however, isn't empty. There's a note taped to the back of it, one addressed to Steve and Miss Anna, so Steve feels alright taking and opening it.

At the top, there's a messily scrawled phone number. Underneath, it says:

Here's my number. Probably a bad idea to call with all the noise. Texting works, though you should do that after the show. I'll be a little busy until then.

-Eddie

Steve puts the note in his pocket, puts Anna's ear defenders on, puts his own earplugs in, and looks at the stage, where-

Hang on.

He squints at the stage, where four guys have started playing a song that, frankly, sounds too much like literally all the music Steve listened to yesterday for him to care about all that much. The drummer is pretty small, with wild, curly hair. The bassist looks familiar. The lead singer, who is very talented but not to Steve's personal taste, also looks familiar. And the guitarist-

No way. No way in hell.

It's a total coincidence. Lots of guys have long, curly hair and heavy jewelry and big eyes and are wearing formal wear, for some reason, and catch Steve's eye, and-

"Thank you for such a great welcome!" the guitarist says, and his smile totally isn't doing anything to Steve, thanks very much.

Anna stops moving, where she's standing next to Steve, and climbs up into his lap to get a better look at the stage. She looks out, then back at Steve, then out, then back at Steve, making a face as confused as Steve feels.

Some days, he thinks he ended up with a clone, not a kid.

"I'll get off the mic in a second. I only do the talking because Jeff," the guitarist points at the lead singer, who ducks his head, "is really shy."

Jeff. That name is definitely relevant, but Steve is a permanent resident of denial.

"We fought about what song we were going to include next in our set list, so much so that we didn't decide until yesterday and had to consult a tiebreaker."

Okay, maybe Steve is a less permanent resident of denial than he thought.

"So, thank you to Miss Anna, who did great at headbanging for her first time-"

Anna whips around so fast, her forehead nearly collides with Steve's jaw.

"And to Steve, who's a big fan of American Psycho."

At the song name, the crowd loses their minds, and if Anna wasn't sitting right in front of him, Steve would join them.

Because what the fuck is happening right now?

His question isn't answered. In fact, about five more questions pop up in its stead when, during the bridge of the song, Jeff puts on a clear rain jacket and picks up a prop axe.

Please, God, don't let this traumatize my kid, Steve thinks.

Anna, thankfully, doesn't get scared. When Jeff brings the axe down, again and again, Steve's weirdo daughter fucking smiles. And giggles. It's kind of cute, actually.

When the song ends, she turns back to Steve.

"That's Eddie onstage," Steve says, and saying it, somehow, makes it real.

"I thought so!" Anna says, and she turns back to watch the show. Steve puts an arm around her waist so she doesn't fall off his lap when she bangs her head to the music.

The rest of the songs, in Steve's opinion, are better than the opening song. They're more melodic, which Steve can definitely get behind, and each of them has a gimmick onstage, all based off of various horror movies. It's ridiculous, but also really, really cool.

And Eddie, onstage, because it is the same guy who flirted with him and was so sweet to Anna yesterday, is really, really hot.

Steve has never had a thing for guitarists before. He's never had a thing for musicians before. Hell, until a year ago, he didn't realize he had a thing for men.

Eddie is. Uh. Yeah. Really doing it for him.

Steve doesn't know whether it's his enthusiasm, or the way he moves, or seeing his hair tied up, or the fucking dress pants and suspenders, or just his hands, but he does know he has to get himself in check because this is an all ages show and he's here with his daughter.

He already knows he can't add these songs to his grading playlist, not when they're accompanied by visuals of Eddie playing his guitar.

Sweet Jesus.

"Alright, that's our set!" Eddie says. "Thanks, y'all, for sticking around for us, and let's give it up for the next act!"

The crowd, including Anna and Steve, cheer as they exit and the lights go up.

Steve fishes his phone out of his pocket, fully intending to add Eddie's number to his contacts, and is greeted by not one, not two, but sixteen missed calls from Dustin Henderson.

Naturally, Steve calls him back. "Who died?"

"What the fuck?" Dustin yells, and Steve just puts the phone on speaker to save the rest of his hearing. "Did Eddie fucking Munson just personally thank you from the stage?"

"Swear jar, Uncle Dusty!" Anna says.

"Sorry," Dustin says. "But Steve. Answers. Now."

"How do you even-"

"Instagram live. Is Eddie the guy you were telling me about yesterday?"

Steve takes his phone off speaker. Prior experience tells him that this conversation has a less than zero chance of staying PG, nevermind PG-13.

"Yeah," Steve says. "He is."

"The one who flirted with you, and you forgot to ask for his number."

"Well, I have it now."

"What?" Dustin shrieks, and Steve is incredibly thankful that he didn't take his earplugs out.

"He left me his number on the seat."

"Text him."

"I was going to, until I saw that you called me sixteen times."

"Jesus Christ, Eddie Munson was flirting with you."

Steve rolls his eyes and hands a pack of gummy bears to Anna when she taps his arm. "He could have just been nice. I don't even know if he's into guys."

"Have you looked at him?"

"Wow, Dustybuns, I didn't know you were homophobic."

"I think it's the complete opposite of homophobic to try to get you laid."

"Hanging up!" Steve shouts because a part of him will never see Dustin as any older than thirteen, and no thirteen year old should ever say that.

"Text-"

Steve hangs up the call. "Can I have a gummy bear?"

"No," Anna says, mouth full, in her seat, legs swinging.

"I bought them."

She shrugs. "You gave them to me. Mine now."

Steve stares. She stares right back.

He sighs and opens a new pack of gummy bears.

With his mouth full of sweet Haribo corpses, Steve takes out the note and adds Eddie to his contacts. Before he can overthink it, he sends him a message:

I guess I don't have to ask you what you do for a living. Just so we're even on that front, I'm a teacher, and Anna's full time job is preschool.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket and focuses on making this a good experience for Anna, who somehow wormed her way into a conversation with the intimidating-looking couple sitting next to her.

Because it's totally not like a literal rockstar is going to text him back. Right?

Part 3!!

[wheeboo]

you've got boba eyes, dude | lee chan

SYNOPSIS. You’ve carried nothing but bad luck bouncing between jobs. However, after managing to land a spot as a lifeguard at Carat Bay for the summer, your curiosities start to drift towards the waterpark’s prideful boba shop owner, Lee Chan, who somehow always ends up in your lane—both literally and figuratively. You came for a summer job, not to dive headfirst into a bantering game of cat and mouse. PAIRING. boba shop owner!lee chan x mat racer attendant!fem!reader (ft. soonyoung, seungkwan, vernon, a mention of joshua, & nayeon from twice) GENRE. fluff, crack/humour, slightly suggestive, enemies (more like annoyances?) to lovers WARNINGS. cursing, so much banter, bickering, and flirting between them, chan flirts like a competitive sport and yn is tired of his shit but loves it anyway, mention of weed and alcohol drinking, shirtless chan moment, kissing WORD COUNT. 11.5k

notes: this is definitely not my proudest fic, sadly not proofread and rushed and the plot was not plotting, but i hope u all enjoy nonetheless! also sorry for having not posted any fic in a while, but i promise new exciting things are coming!! this is for the @camandemstudios carat bay collab !! pls check out the other fics by the other wonderfully talented authors in the collab as well <3 i'm so happy i was able to write for dino again hehe 🥺

You certainly did not expect for your resume to land you a job at the Carat Bay Waterpark. But you would probably take anything at this point𑁋the awful luck you’ve been having with going through over a dozen dead-end gigs is enough to make even a lifeguard position of watching people belly flop off slides seem like divine intervention.

At least the uniform you have on is cute. Kind of. 

You find yourself staring down the six-lane, neon-striped monstrosity of a slide, watching as kids, teenagers, and adults race down atop of foam mats at death-defying speeds. Your job? Blow your little whistle, make sure the guests adhere to the requirements, give a thumbs-up, and pray to the heavens above that no one faceplants on the way down. 

The only thing worse than getting sunburnt in the literal summer heat is doing it while babysitting overly enthusiastic kids and pretending you know what you’re doing when you definitely do not. But alas, faking customer service seems to be one of your quirkiest perks when you’ve had experience juggling between three jobs back in your early college days just to pay rent. 

You sigh as you rest against the post of the mat racer startling line, feeling your shirt stick to your back from sweat like industrial glue. It’s only the first day, and you have no idea how you’ll be able to get through the rest of summer without evaporating. 

Then, a rag is suddenly thrown in your face, snapping you back out of your thoughts. 

“Break time, girl,” Nayeon coos with a smirk as the rag falls uselessly in your lap. “Go hydrate before you traumatise some eight-year-old.”

You immediately stand up at that. “God, you’re a saint.”

Normally, it’s hard for people to make friends on the first day of the job. However, Nayeon was quick to breeze her way into your shift as if she owned the damn place. She’s already dubbed herself as your “waterpark big sister” and seems very determined to make sure you don’t die from dehydration or despair before the week is done𑁋apparently it’s common with new employees, and you’re just one of the stubborn ones who hasn’t dipped on the first day.

“Thirty minutes is kinda a lot,” You say, dabbing at the sweat on your forehead with the rag under your hat. “Got any good places to go to?”

Nayeon lets out a contemplative hum, before her face breaks into a grin as if she’s been waiting her whole life for someone to ask her this. “Do I ever!” Then she crosses her arms mischievously. “You like boba?’

“Who doesn’t like boba?”

“Well, you’re in for a treat, babe,” Nayeon replies cheekily. “Go past the Lazy River. There’s a little boba shop near the churro cart. Called Chan’s Bubble Bar.”

You snort a little. “That’s seriously what it’s called?”

“Yep, unfortunately.” Nayeon clicks her tongue. “Owner is the most insufferable boba genius and flirts like a competitive sport. So, take that as you will.”

With that cryptic warning, she excitedly shoos you off like a mom sending her kid off to kindergarten on the first day of school. You navigate past crowds of sunburnt tourists and overly sunscreened children wielding ice cream cones light lightsabers, heading past the Lazy River.

You spot the shop in question. It isn’t that hard to miss.

The sign overhead is clearly hand-painted, the letters uneven but bold. There’s a small chalkboard menu sitting right at the entrance, and your eyebrows knit together as some of the absurdly ridiculous names for drinks listed on there. Seriously, what the hell is a Don’t be Chai, Better Than My Ex, and a Trust Me, Bro drink? 

Rolling your eyes, you push the door open and head inside, immediately met by the smell of sweet tapioca syrup and fresh fruits. The cool air from the air conditioning is an absolute godsend compared to the boiling sun outside. It’s a tiny space, somewhat cozy in some odd way you can’t exactly explain. 

On one wall, there’s a column of colourful surfboards, and there’s a section where you spot a bunch of polaroids and neon post-it notes containing handwritten reviews from customers.

There isn’t anyone at the counter, but you hear the faint sounds of music playing from somewhere in the back𑁋the door to the back is just a bunch of hanging beads of what seem to be seashells. 

You’re about to call out when a head pops up from under the counter𑁋followed by a startled yelp.

“Jesus!” You both blurt out in surprise at the same time.

You stumble back a step, and the guy straightens up. He looks around your age, his dark hair is tousled, wearing a sleeveless black top that conveniently shows off his large ass arms, a chain necklace dangling around his neck, with an apron exclaiming YES, I’M THE OWNER LEE CHAN. God, he’s built like the exact epitome of a summer fling in an awful summer YA novel. And he looks way too pleased with himself for someone who nearly gave you a heart attack.

When his eyes lock on yours, it lingers. Just a little.

“Do you live under there or something?” You ask breathlessly, clutching at your chest. 

Chan grins, shaking his head. “The universe likes to break the register sometimes. Little discrimination for small business owners, I guess.” He wipes off a matcha stain on his apron. “Anyway, you don’t look like one of my regular customers. Too tense, awful posture, and lifeguard-y. First day?”

You blink at that. “That obvious, huh?”

“You radiate the whole I-just-signed-my-life-off-for-minimum-wage deal,” Chan says matter-of-factly, dramatically motioning over your figure.

You roll your eyes. “Jeez, do you always psychoanalyse your customers? Read out their horoscope descriptions or something?”

“Only the cute ones.”

You nearly choke on air at his words. Chan doesn’t even flinch, just flashes you a smug, lopsided smile like he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s cute𑁋you curse at yourself for mentally thinking that. You hate that he’s cute. And hate that you know he’s probably going to be an absolute pain in the ass for your summer. 

Chan leans on the counter, clasping his hands together expectantly. “Alright, rookie, what will it be?” 

You pretend to think, trailing your eyes over to another menu displayed on a little stand right next to him. All the drinks listed on there seem like they were created by an entire frat house, and you aren’t sure if it’s helping with your appetite or not. Either way, Nayeon did say he’s an insufferable boba genius. 

The insufferable part is right on point.

“Surprise me,” You tell him with your arms crossed, already feeling like you’ll regret saying that. 

Chan’s obnoxious grin only widens at that. 

“Dangerous game,” he quips, tapping his fingers on the counter rhythmically. “Give me a few minutes to work my magic.” Then he turns to the back to yell out, “Soonyoung! Get me the watermelon popping pearls!”

There’s a sudden loud crash from the back, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone tripping. Then a few seconds later, a new guy emerges out from the curtain of seashells. His hair is half-dyed red and black, and there’s a slap of flour on his cheek that he rubs away. You watch him𑁋Soonyoung𑁋shoot a glare towards Chan, clearly showing this isn’t the first time he’s been summoned. 

“Do I look like your kitchen elf, dude?” Soonyoung remarks annoyingly, grumbling under his breath. 

“Hey, I pay you with unlimited access to the lychee slushies. Emotional damage is part of that too,” Chan retorts back while already preparing your mystery drink like he’s on some sort of culinary show.

Soonyoung just scoffs, teasing over the jar of tapioca pearls to Chan with the perfect underhand. He shoots a brief glance to you, then to Chan, before disappearing to the back, the beads clinging behind him. 

Your eyes shift back to Chan, watching as he breezes through the process with an annoying kind of confidence. As if he’s done this a thousand times before. As if he knows this is going to impress you, which dammit, it kind of is. He shakes the cup, mixing all the mystery ingredients with a dramatic flair, his brows furrowed in concentration that should not be as attractive as it is. 

When he finishes, he slides the cup over to you on the counter. It’s a swirl of pale green with watermelon tapioca pearls. You eye the drink curiously, taking it in your hands, the cold surface of the plastic cup and melting into your hand. 

“Honeydew base, watermelon pearls, splash of coconut milk, and a dash of lime zest,” Chan announces like he’s showing off a Michelin-star dish. “Coined the Existential Crisis.”

He watches as you take a tentative sip of the drink.

You swear your soul nearly leaves your body. Because of course it’s good. Really damn good.

You take another sip, more confident this time, trying to not let your face betray the fact that Chan just changed your entire trajectory of your entire breaktime snack expectations. But Chan seems to see right through it, already wearing that smirk to his face.

“Holy shit.”

Chan’s face practically beams. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say it was good.”

“I believe holy shit translates to amazing.”

You feel your face flush at that. As you take another generous sip, you reach for your wallet to pull out some cash, but Chan stops you with a hand.

“It’s on the house,” he says.

You blink at him. “What? Why?”

Chan shrugs, resting his elbows atop the counter. “Consider it a welcome gift to the Carat Bay ecosystem, rookie.”

You narrow your eyes suspiciously at him.. “Let me guess. Next time it’s twelve bucks and emotional manipulation?”

“Right on target!” Chan exclaims enthusiastically. 

You shake your head, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips as you start backpedaling towards the door. “You’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren’t you?”

“Get used to it.” Chan shoots you a wink while wiping down the counter. “See you later, rookie!”

When the door shuts behind you, you find yourself taking sips on the drink while heading your way back to your post. The thought of Chan keeps flitting back in your mind with every step that you nearly bump into a child wearing a life-sized otter floatie. 

Suddenly, summer is going to get a lot more interesting. 

Back in the shop, Soonyoung reappears from the back like an aunt getting ready for gossip. He leans on the counter with his arms crossed, observing Chan whistle to himself as if he didn’t just flirt his entire soul with the new employee. 

“Wow, Casanova,” Soonyoung starts amusedly. “Should I start planning wedding invites?”

Chan shoots him a side-eye. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I haven’t seen you this smitten ever since that influencer chick two summers ago,” Soonyoung continues. “where you wrote her a haiku on a napkin. A fucking haiku!”

Chan groans, running a hand down his face. “First of all, that haiku came from the bottom of my heart. And second𑁋” He points towards the door where you just left a minute ago. “𑁋I was not smitten. That was polite customer service, thank you very much.”

Soonyoung snorts. “Oh, my God! You’re down bad for the rookie and you don’t even know her name! This summer is going to be lit.”

“Get back to work, hyung.”

“I am at work.”

Chan chugs a rag at the older boy before flipping him off. “I hate you.”

“The feeling’s mutual, Romeo.” Soonyoung grins as he catches the rag with ease. “Just remember that I will be playing sad Taylor Swift songs during closing if you get heartbroken again.”

“We already play sad Taylor Swift songs during closing.”

“Exactly! I’ll just turn up the volume even more,” Soonyoung declares eagerly. He waits for a moment for Chan to retort back, but as he catches the slightly pensive look on his face, he adds reassuringly, “She’ll come back, dude.”

Chan sighs, glancing between the door and from your cup stood on the counter. 

“...yeah, I hope so.”

There’s a child crying in front of you. A little girl.

You and Nayeon are staring at her like she’s the spawn of Satan. 

Not because she’s done anything wrong𑁋she hasn’t, exactly. In fact, she’s probably the most tragically adorable thing you’ve seen the entire day, with her two pigtails and frilly Frozen swimsuit, her apple cheeks and eyes red from crying. She’s probably around six years old. 

But you’re both attendants and clearly not trained in early-childhood emotional breakdowns. And this one is clearly at maximum level.

Nayeon leans over to you and whispers, “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” You hiss back to her. “I was just drinking my water and then bam𑁋she appeared like a ghost.” 

“What is she, a Pokémon?” Nayeon rolls her eyes, before crouching down to be eye-level with the little girl. “Hi, honey, what’s your name?”

The little girl sniffles, wiping away the snot at her nose. “Jiyu.”

“Okay, Jiyu, can you tell me where your parents are?” Nayeon asks softly, but Jiyu’s lip wobbles in response, as if she’s trying to hold in another round of tears. 

You glance frantically from where you’re high up on the Mat Racer post, but it’s obviously the most useless thing to do when the entire waterpark is just one big chaotic mess. You can barely spot the nearby bathrooms, so spotting a lost child’s parents is quite literally like finding a needle in a haystack. And if her parents were really trying to find her, then they clearly aren’t making themselves known. 

“Mommy said… that she went to get boba,” Jiyu croaks out in a series of hiccups. “But she didn’t, um… she didn’t come back.”

“The boba shop?” Nayeon questions, trying to keep her tone light and soothing.

“The one with the big loud man,” Jiyu sniffles again, motioning in a direction that could probably mean at least fifteen different shops, but there’s really only one singular boba shop in the entire waterpark and one with a ‘big loud man’. 

You swear your head almost falls off your neck.

“Chan,” You utter his name out like the universe bestowed a curse on you.

Nayeon rises up from the floor, turning toward you. “Here, I’ll radio security to see if any report has come in. You can take her to the boba shop and see if anyone recognises her, yeah?”

You groan dramatically, wanting to protest. “God, you want me to face the tier A level himbo?”

But Nayeon is already fiddling with her radio pack, her back turned towards you. And before you can say any last minute attempt to escape, Jiyu is already latched onto your leg like a barnacle, her tiny hand pulling at your finger which seems to ultimately mean that you’re officially her unofficial legal guardian for the next hour, or however long it will take for her mother to come back. 

The walk is awkward, because how the hell do you talk to a six-year-old who just sobbed her eyes out at the top of Mat Racer? At one point, she quietly asks what your name is like any curious child and you respond in kind. Then you try to lighten the mood by pointing out a duck floatie that was casually floating down the stream of the Lazy River, but all Jiyu does is give a small nod and an indecipherable mumble.

Well, you tried.

You have to mentally prepare yourself with a deep breath before walking into the boba shop. You push through the door with one hand, the other clutched around Jiyu’s. You saunter past a few customers heading back outside with their illegally delicious-looking cups of boba and come to a stop right at the counter.

Unsurprisingly, Chan is whipping up another drink like he’s got a PhD in Mixology, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his annoyingly attractive forearms. His hair appears almost damp from sweat𑁋clearly from heat, you remind yourself, not because he looks good like that. Definitely not.

When Chan turns around, his eyes lock with yours, and his face lights up in a way that’s completely unfair. Then his gaze drifts downward, catching sight of Jiyu tied to your leg like a clingy koala. 

“Wow, rookie,” he starts. “Two weeks in and I find out you have a child?”

You give him a flat look. “Yes, and I was pregnant for exactly zero days.”

“Well, you’re glowing,” Chan remarks playfully. “Must be that post-pregnancy aura.”

You roll your eyes, immediately regretting every life decision you made to come here𑁋it’s clear that Chan has less of an emotional maturity than Jiyu (or so you believe). You step closer to the counter and motion helplessly to Jiyu down at your side, who is still clutching at your hand as if she’s trying to merge her existence with yours. 

“She said her mom went to get boba and never showed back up, so congratulations,” You remark sarcastically. “you’re part of the mystery too.”

Chan’s eyes furrow at that, and he leans on the counter, expression softening towards Jiyu. 

“Hey, kiddo, what’s your name?” he asks, and the way his voice is all of a sudden soft is enough to make your head spin in a rather… an uncomfortably comfortable way. 

Jiyu shyly peeks out from behind your leg and whispers, “Jiyu.”

“What a pretty name. My name is Chan,” Chan coos, and the smile he wears isn’t that familiar shit-eating one, but gentler, slightly lopsided. “Jiyu, do you remember what your mom was wearing?”

“Um…” Jiyu begins warily, glancing up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers. “Flower… A flower hat!”

You let out a useless groan. “That’s, like, seventy-percent of the moms in this entire waterpark.”

“Yikes. Fortunately I did have a lady come in here wearing that exact description,” Chan says with confidence. “But she came in as fast as she left𑁋said she had to take a phone call and then ran out after I finished making her drink.”

Your feet threaten to sink into the floor. “Great.”

Chan only chuckles, turning his attention back toward Jiyu. “Well, Jiyu, since rookie here𑁋” He gestures toward you. “𑁋is clearly incompetent, what do you say you help me make a drink, yeah? Your mom will be coming back soon, I promise.”

You watch𑁋half-amused and half-terrified𑁋as Jiyu slowly lets go of your hand to toddle her way into the employee’s side of the counter, seemingly accepting the boy’s trust way more than what you’ve given her in the past fifteen minutes. Chan helps Jiyu climb up a small step stool that for some reason he already had, as well as helping her put on some kid-sized apron that’s about three times her size, like this isn’t the first time a kid had seized control of his shop. 

“Jesus, are you Mary Poppins or something?” You taunt snarkily, crossing your arms together.

“Unlike you, I seem to actually care about a child’s well-being more than anything else,” Chan retorts, before turning back to Jiyu. “Alright, Jiyu, what’s your favourite color?”

Jiyu motions towards a particular syrup in front of her. “Pink!”

“Isn’t this equivalent to child labour?” You ask mindlessly.

“Only if you report it,” Chan replies, and you can already see his smirk without him having to turn around. He hands Jiyu a spoon, and she grasps it with her tiny hands in pure wonder. “But I’d say it’s morally justifiable if she walks out with a smile.”

You shake your head at that, but can’t draw your eyes away from how Jiyu and Chan are interacting𑁋the two of them going back in forth about the drink, Chan letting her pick whatever toppings she wants, and Jiyu giggling every time Chan exaggerates about how much talent she has for a little girl. At one point, Jiyu asks for your input on the drink, and you suddenly find yourself being a boba shop worker for three minutes. 

It’s infuriating and adorable all at once. Infuriatingly adorable. 

About twenty minutes later, Nayeon texts you that they found the mother in question, and that she was on her way to pick up Jiyu. And right now, Jiyu is sitting beside you on a bench outside the boba shop, sipping on her drink that she and Chan firmly called The Pink Princess Special, which was now a new addition to the menu.

You’re about five minutes into zoning out when a drink is suddenly shoved in front of your face. 

“For the babysitter,” Chan says smoothly.

You blink up at him, before taking the cold cup in your hands. Then he sits down right next to you for God knows why, his kneecap briefly brushing against yours. 

“So, rookie,” he begins, and you already know you aren’t going to like this. “Do I finally get to know your name?”

You take a sip of the drink, and the refreshing flavour of mango strikes at your tongue, immediately cooling off your body. “No.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Chan whines. “Don’t I deserve to know the girl I co-parented a child with for the past hour?”

You shoot him a glare. “If you ever said that in a courtroom, you’re getting your ass beat.”

“That’s not very co-parental of you.”

“Oh, my God, stop calling us co-parents𑁋”

“Are you two married?” Jiyu’s small, curious voice suddenly cuts in.

You’ve never whipped your head around so fast in your life. You nearly choke on your mango drink.

Chan lets out an amused laugh. “What do you think, Jiyu? Do we look like we’re married?”

You swear your one word away from kicking Chan’s shin into the Lazy River, because you absolutely do not look like a couple. Not even close, not even in a way that would be cute in a cheesy coming-of-age movie. But of course, the oblivious, honest, and unfiltered six-year-old beats you to the punch.

Yes, it’s sort of true you’ve been avoiding telling him your name like it’s the plague. It really isn’t for a particular reason𑁋okay, maybe there is kind of a reason, but that’s none of his business. Besides, giving your name to him feels like an ego boost that he doesn’t deserve to have. It’ll definitely be a weapon for him to wield against you.

A really annoying, charming, effective weapon.

“You two argue like my mommy and daddy,” Jiyu chirps, sipping on her drink while her little legs swing back and forth on the bench. “And then they kiss right after.”

You’re about to fling your drink into the burning sun. Getting sweeped up by a tsunami doesn’t seem to be the worst thing to happen right now, or perhaps time travelling back to the moment you chose to enter the boba shop and instead hurl yourself into the wave pool.

Chan is practically vibrating right next to you, wheezing his lungs out in a fit of laughter. Gosh, does his laugh have to be the most insufferable sound you’ve ever heard? Why does it have to be so infectious, loud, and make your stomach do a flip one too many times?

“Jiyu, that’s…” Your voice trails off, because you honestly don’t know what to say to that.

Chan wipes away a fake tear rolling down his eye. “Man, I love this kid.”

“Of course you do,” You shoot back with narrowed eyes. “Probably bribed her or something.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Chan quips. “With the low price of tapioca pearls and a spot on being Employee of the Month.”

You scoff. “Don’t you literally have only, like, two people working there?” 

“Exactly. It makes the competition fiercer.” Chan offers you a wink in return.

Right next to you, Jiyu glances curiously between the two of you, innocently sipping on her drink as she wears a deceptively sweet smile. And just as you and Chan are continuing to bicker, there is an almost-near bombshell that drops right at your feet.

“Mr. Big Loud Guy, I know her name!” she exclaims excitedly. “She told me her name when we were walking!”

Chan raises a brow and leans in, and he’s close enough for you to smell the faint scent of brown sugar and fruit syrup. His knee brushes against yours again. It should be illegal for him to be blessed with looking like that all while being able to easily entertain a child right under his fingertips. 

“Oh, the betrayal,” he gasps, clutching at his chest theatrically. “Hey, Jiyu, if you tell me her name I’ll make sure you can make another drink on my menu.”

You barge in immediately, clenching your teeth together as you nudge him with your shoulder. “Jiyu! Want to see me spill my drink in his pants? Then I can𑁋”

“Her name is Y/N!”

That’s it. You’re going to die right here, right now. But your death isn’t caused by a heatstroke or dehydration𑁋no, it’s from complete and utter embarrassment, caused by a six-year-old Cupid in disguise and a boy with large forearms and an unnecessarily attractive laugh.

Chan shifts his eyes back to you, and you catch the mischievous glint that shines in his pupil that’s definitely not from the sun. As he’s about to open his mouth, you quickly shut him up with an aggressive shhh, which promptly translates to shut the fuck up.

“One word out of your mouth and I’m filing a restraining order.”

But Chan obviously doesn’t play by the rules. 

“Y/N,” he drawls, and you don’t know if you want to slap him or kiss him just to shut him up. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N…”

“Isn’t it a pretty name?” Jiyu beams from the side, not fully realising the hole she just shoved you in.

You groan audibly, burying your face in the palm of your sweaty hand, because of course the child you emotionally stabilised and trudged through an entire waterpark with has betrayed you in the most lethal way possible. Throwing yourself into the Lazy River doesn’t seem enough𑁋you’d rather willingly fall into the koi pond so all the fish can nibble away at your pride and sanity. 

“It is pretty,” Chan responds smugly, though you swear there’s that pinch of softness too, as if he actually means it. You feel your face burn hotter, unsure if it’s completely from embarrassment or something else. “Y/N. Kinda rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?”

“I liked you better when you didn’t know it.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“You’re right. I didn’t like you at all.”

“Okay, but you do look like a Y/N.”

“What does that even mean?” You counter back with a scowl. “Are you saying I look like a noun?”

Chan tilts his head, pretending to think. “A… pretty noun.”

You turn your head sharply to hide the way your lips threaten to twitch upward at that. You’re not smiling𑁋you’re actually frowning so hard your face might as well crumble apart in pieces. And that warm, fluttery feeling that blooms in your chest? Oh, it’s just good old classic indigestion from how impossibly delicious this mango boba is. 

A frantic voice suddenly cuts through your thoughts. Thank the heavens. 

“Jiyu!” There’s a panicked woman running up in your direction, her flower hat nearly falling off her hand from how rushed she is. 

Jiyu immediately springs up from the bench and hops onto the ground, dashing into her mother’s arms. “Mommy!” 

The woman catches Jiyu in her arms with a relieved gasp, sinking down to her knees. “Oh, sweetheart, I was so worried𑁋are you okay?”

“Yes! I made two new friends!” Jiyu motions over to you and Chan. “And we made a drink together!” 

At that moment, you and Chan exchange a look with each other. It’s clear that the two of you obviously didn’t mean to, but it still happens. It lingers for a moment too long to be brushed off as pure coincidence. 

The mother lets out a barrel of apologies before smiling to the both of you. “Thank you both so much. I was so worried!”

“She was in good hands,” Chan says gratefully, standing up casually and pretending that he wasn’t just blackmailing a child for your name two minutes ago. “Made a killer drink for the menu, probably the next bestseller.” 

Jiyu’s mom chuckles, standing up and reaching down to hold the little girl’s hand, mimicking a waving action. “Say thank you, sweetheart.” 

“Thank you, Y/N! Thank you Mr. Big Loud Guy!” She gives the two of you a precious, delightful wave before walking in the opposite direction, still clutching the drink in her hands as if it’s a memory she knows she’ll cherish. 

Gosh, no matter how nightmarish kids are these days, your heart still feels full knowing you made at least one’s day better. 

But then you remember that Chan is still next to you. Yet, your heart doesn’t seem to want to deflate from the thought of that. 

“I say we make a great team,” he inputs with a cheesy grin.

You roll your eyes. “No, you were better with her than me.”

“Is�� is that a compliment I smell?” Chan eyes you up and down with suspicion. 

“I’m sure a straw through your head would compliment you dearly.”

“Romantic.”

You flip him off over your shoulder as you’re walking away to return back to your post. You cannot wait to explain all the shit that’s happened in the past thirty minutes and explain to your supervisor why the hell you were gone for so long. 

“See you later, Y/N!” You hear Chan call you from behind.

You’re not smiling.

You’re definitely not smiling.

God, you’re so screwed.

So, you can probably say the past month of working at the waterpark has been… chaos. Just pure, unrelenting chaos.

On one side of the deep end, you have to deal with screaming toddlers afraid to go down the giant Mat Racer slide; and on the other side of the deep end, you have to suffer through hearing a particular boy’s annoyingly perfect laugh. 

You’ve really tried to not think about Chan and all your interactions thus far. Either way, he probably does this with nearly every other worker he comes across𑁋flirts a lot, teases a lot, gets under their skin a lot. Maybe you’re not that special. Maybe you’re just another Wednesday at Carat Bay for him. 

But why does the thought make your heart ache? 

Chan may have the ego and confidence the size of a fucking mountain, but the worst part is that he knows what he’s doing. He knows the effect he has on people, on you. And somehow, he’s become a permanent fixture in your shifts𑁋whether it’s by bickering with you until the end of time, or by secretly sending you over free drinks to your stand (where you have to joy to watch Nayeon get jealous). 

“Is he always like this?” You ask Soonyoung as you’re sipping on a drink on Chan’s menu called the Don’t Be Chai. “Like, is he always a pain in the ass?” 

Soonyoung raises a brow at you from the other side of the counter. Chan was currently out in the back during inventory or whatever with his sleeves rolled up like the menace to society he is. You finally clocked out of your shift and decided to hopelessly confide in the boy’s henchman, which may or may not be the best idea at all. 

“I’ve dealt with his ass for the past ten years,” Soonyoung says while wiping down the counter. “Trust me, it gets better.”

Your posture straightens. “Does it?”

“No, it gets worse.” 

You slump back in the seat. 

Soonyoung lets out a small laugh as he slowly drags the rag from one end of the counter to the other. 

“But you know, you get used to it,” he adds. “Teasing is like his love language or whatever.” 

You blink up at him. “His what?” 

“His love language.” Soonyoung repeats, giving a casual shrug. “That little shit would rather piss his pants than say ‘I like you’, so instead he’ll annoy you into oblivion. Behind those dumbass eyes? He cries to strangers’ wedding proposals on TikTok.” 

You almost choke on your drink at that. “No way in hell.”

“Oh yeah! I wish I was kidding.” Soonyoung’s practically beaming at this point. “Man tries to keep his little hopeless romantic heart lowkey though. But the second you say anything genuine to him? His brain absolutely short-fucking-circuits.”

You blink. Once. Twice. Trying to process everything. 

“He’s probably like this with everyone, you know,” You mutter quietly, trying to hide behind the rim of your drink as if it’ll save you. 

This earns you a loud scoff from Soonyoung. “Trust me, dude, I know him like the lines on the back of my hand.” And then he stares at you, trying to decipher the contemplative look to your face. “Do you like him?”

You blink again, then look away. It’s safer, probably𑁋less revealing.

“I think I’d rather swallow pool water,” You counter back, but it’s useless. 

“So… that’s a yes.”

“That is not a yes.”

“It sounds like a yes in my vocabulary.”

You groan defeatedly, because of course this boba shop is run by idiots. 

“If you say a word of this to Chan, I will throw my drink in your face the next time I see you,” You threaten, holding a tight grip around the cup like a weapon. 

Soonyoung holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I swear on his fourth grade spelling bee participation award.”

You scrunch your face up at that. “He has one?”

“Yeah. It was pure trauma. He refuses to spell the word onomatopoeia to this day.”

The image of a young Chan shaking in front of a large crowd while probably trying not to break down swearing vengeance on the spelling deities makes you laugh𑁋an unguarded, stupidly fond laugh. 

Unfortunately, it’s the exact moment when Chan walks back inside too.

He emerges from the curtain of beads, wiping his hands on a towel and raising an eyebrow between the two of you. His hair is a fluffed up mess, his sleeves rolled out as usual, and there’s a faint smudge of something sugary on his cheek. His dumb, pretty cheek.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, throwing the towel over his shoulder. 

You can feel his annoyance radiating onto you, but all you do is lean in slightly on the counter, still giggling. “Hey, Chan, can you spell ‘onomatopoeia’?”

Chan gasps as if you’ve offended every cell in his body, and he turns to Soonyoung with a glare. “You told rookie about the bee, didn’t you?”

“It’s a core memory, how could I not?” Soonyoung retorts back. “You stuttered so hard up there the judges thought you spelled it with three m’s and eliminated you.”

“Oh, my God,” Chan groans, dragging his hand up and down his sweaty face. “I’m going to fucking sue you both for emotional damages.”

This only makes you laugh even harder, barely noticing the way Chan is practically staring at you while you do so. He’s wearing that dumb grin on his face, and you swear that if you look close enough, there’s a flush creeping up his neck as well. But you’re too busy relishing the fact that for once, you aren’t on the small end of the stick this time.

As your laughter resides, you finally meet Chan’s eyes again. He’s just standing there, and you find yourself considering your next move.

This is probably a very stupid idea. 

“You got a little thing up there,” You say, motioning to the spot on your cheek.

Chan blinks a few times, before swiping up at his face on the wrong side.

“Nope,” You say amusedly, the tone of your voice a little more sweeter. “Other side.”

He tries again, but misses the spot by about three millimetres. 

You roll your eyes, straightening your posture and taking a few giant steps around the counter before you’re quite literally standing in front of him. And before he can try a third time, you lean in and swiftly swipe your finger over his cheek to wipe it off yourself. 

Everything stills the second your skin touches his. His breath audibly hitches as if something got lodged in his throat. His entire body tenses up and freezes. His eyes lock with yours like a deer caught in headlights. 

“There,” You mutter, thumb lingering for a second too long before pulling away. “Much better, you helpless idiot.”

Chan simply stands there like someone cut through his neural pathways enough to paralyse him on the spot. His mouth is practically hanging open, and his ears are reddening. Reddening. You’ve never seen him like this𑁋and you’ve never felt so damn proud for putting him in his place for once. 

He watches as you grab your bag and your drink before starting in the direction of the door as if you didn’t just completely knock the wind out of his lungs. 

“Good luck on closing tonight, boys.” You give both Chan and Soonyoung a wave while pushing the door open, eyes lingering a little longer on Chan before stepping outside into the evening night. 

Soonyoung waits exactly five seconds after the door closes to burst into a fit of laughter. 

“You have fucking boba eyes, dude,” he cackles, slapping a hand down on the counter. “Your brain just went 404, holy shit!”

Chan’s system is still buffering. He picks up his head slowly, still staring at the door half-expected for you to come back, but you don’t. “Did that just happen?”

“Oh, it happened, loverboy. It so happened.”

As you’re heading back to your car, innocently sipping on your drink, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

Because you learned two things today:

Teasing may be Chan’s love language, but flirting back to him?

That might be his kryptonite. 

The next time you come into the boba shop, it’s on your off day.

You didn’t really mean to come here, honestly. But one of your college friends seemed way too adamant to get a sugar overload than you. 

You were lucky to not be one of the chosen few attendants to be scheduled in the middle of a heatwave on a Saturday, which apparently meant that more than half the town collectively decided to seek refuge from the sun in the same ten-square-metre bubble tea shop. 

Seungkwan drags you by the arm like he’s absolutely possessed. When he pushes through the door, the shop is quite… chaotic. The buzz of blenders fill the room, the scent of sugar and syrup more dizzying than ever. You find yourself having the urge to turn around, but Seungkwan just tightens his grip around your wrist.

“Come on, Y/N!” he whines, and you nearly trip as he pulls you back inside.

Seungkwan pulls you into the line of impatient customers. Okay, maybe you do feel a little bit bad that this place is run by only two idiots and it’s the peak of rush hour, but there’s no going back, and Seungkwan is actively scanning over the strange, questionable names listed on the menu.

“Trust me, Bro? Delulu Is The Solulu? Better Than My Ex?” Seungkwan reads off the names with a snort. “Rizz Me Up? What kind of deranged romantic named these drinks?” 

You let out a sigh. “Chan.”

“Your Chan?”

“I𑁋He’s not my Chan,” You correct far too quickly. 

Seungkwan gives you the most suspicious, skeptical, that-was-a-damn-lie-and-you-know-it look with his eyes. You could only face away from him for your sake and sanity, praying that this would just be a quick get-your-drinks and leave experience.

But the moment it becomes you and Seungkwan’s turn to order, you know that you’re going to be staying far longer than intended. 

Chan doesn’t realise it’s you at first. His entire brain might have already turned to mush with the amount of customers he’s had to make drinks for in the past three hours. So when he approaches the counter like a customer service zombie on autopilot, he gives his scripted greeting without looking up.

“Welcome to Chan’s Bubble Bar, what can I get for𑁋”

And then he sees you.

His brain malfunctions again.

Because you’re standing there, clearly not in your uniform, clearly not in shift, and clearly looking way too good to be accompanied by some random guy he doesn’t recognise, whose arm is clearly wrapped snugly around yours. 

The smile on his face fades before it could even fully form.

“Oh, hey, Y/N,” he murmurs. “Off-day?”

You give a shrug. “Yeah, off-day. Heard the weather was going to melt us all alive, so naturally, I got dragged here for a cold treat.” 

Chan’s eyes flicker down to where Seungkwan’s hand is still comfortably looped around your arm. And maybe it’s the heat, or maybe it’s the fact he’s made at least fifty drinks in the past hour, but something prickles sharply underneath his skin. 

It’s subtle, but enough for you to notice anyway𑁋the slight twitch at his lips, the tic of his jaw, the very unsubtle glance he shoots between you and Seungkwan. For some reason, it’s kind of… adorable. In some tragic, jealous-boy way. 

“What can I get for you both?” Chan asks, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“Hmm…” Seungkwan presses his lips together. “You know, I really have questions about your unhinged drink names. But I’ll take the Delulu Is The Solulu. Put extra tapioca because I do not fear death.” 

“One Delulu Is The Solulu…” Chan punches in the order on the register with a bit too much force under his fingertips. Then he looks at you. “And for you, rookie?”

You think for a moment, before smiling at him. “Surprise me.”

He stares at you for a few seconds as if you’ve just said something in a foreign language. Then he repeats what you’ve both ordered under his breath, punching a few buttons on the register, before giving the two of you a flat nod. 

“Order number forty-nine. It’ll be out in a few minutes. Next in line!” he exclaims, flicking the receipt from the printer and tossing it in you and Seungkwan’s faces𑁋you barely manage to catch it before Seungkwan pulls you to the side. 

You and Seungkwan both find yourself standing at the corner of the shop. From where you stand, you watch as Chan swiftly makes his drinks in his usual decorum, but it’s quite obvious to see how he’s a bit… on edge, turning his little bubble tea shop into his personal Hell’s Kitchen. You see how he pours the syrup and shakes the cups a bit too aggressively as if they’ve personally offended his ancestors. 

“Goodness, did you see how he glared at me?” Seungkwan nudges you while whispering. “He looked like he wanted to throw a blender in my face. His cortisol levels must be through the roof.”

You try not to smile. You really do. “That’s just his customer service face.”

“Right, Sherlock. And I’m fucking Beyoncé, babe,” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. “I swear, if he bursts a blood vessel and it gets in my drink I will be suing.” 

“Trust me, Boo. His drinks are amazing.” You assure to your heart’s content, because you’re not wrong𑁋his drinks have changed your entire world and standards on boba, honestly. 

It takes about five minutes for your drinks to be made. A bell dings across the shop.

“Order forty-nine!” Chan’s voice loudly bounces off the walls of the shop.

You and Seungkwan head over to the counter where Chan places two drinks on top. The first one he sets down a bit too roughly the contents inside the cup of shake, but for the second one, he places it down more softly, sliding it over to you directly.

Seungkwan’s drink looks aggressively pink and filled with an abundance of tapioca pearls, nearly resembling some sort of rogue science experiment gone wrong. On the other hand, yours appears carefully crafted. The base colour is clearly your favourite fruit, topped with rainbow pearls, lychee popping boba, and a perfect drizzle of cream foam𑁋with the addition of a tiny heart drawn in the foam.

Cute.

Seungkwan takes an experimental sip of the drink, face wrinkling from the sweetness, before his eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, this is good,” he huffs out with a laugh. “I’m definitely waking up with a sugar high the next morning, but damn, it hits the spot! But seriously, fourteen bucks?”

Chan shrugs from behind the counter. “Sorry, charged a little extra for yours with a flirting tax.”

You nearly spit out your drink on the first sip, and not because it’s bad𑁋it’s far from bad actually, practically perfection, but the absolute deadpan of a delivery from Chan was not what you expected at all. 

Seungkwan chokes on his boba beside you. “I’m sorry, buddy, a flirting tax? What kind of emotionally repressed, capitalism-driven nonsensical softboy shit𑁋”

Chan just shrugs again, busying himself with wiping down the counter, but you can clearly tell he’s enjoying this. “Just doing my job, man.” 

You’re trying very, very hard not to laugh, biting down on your lip to stifle the grin threatening its way across your features. Seungkwan looks like he’s about to jump over the counter Mission Impossible style to throw hands, while Chan just wears his familiar and annoyingly smug expression, clearly satisfied in the most petty way possible. 

“Jeez, dude, trust me I am not trying not to steal your girl,” Seungkwan adds defensively, choosing violence as always. “And yes, for the record, she talks about you so much I’m going to need some earplugs.” 

At that, Chan finally looks up, fingers halting mid-swipe. A flicker of surprise, then triumph, flashing past his eyes. 

“She talks about me?” he asks slowly, carefully.

“The hell she does,” Seungkwan continues, seemingly completely unfazed by the way you feel like you’re boiling from the side, the coldness from your drink not helping at all. “At this point, I’ve memorised your entire birth chart because of her, and there’s clearly some sexual ten𑁋”

“Alright, Boo, I get it! You need love and attention!” You interject quickly, elbowing him in the ribs hard enough to make him shut up and wince. “Go to the timeout corner right now.”

Seungkwan merely chuckles proudly, skipping off to the corner with his overly sugary drink in hand. Of course your best friend just had to nearly ruin everything. You watch as Seungkwan stands at the side, beaming at the two of you with popcorn-level interest, before you turn back to Chan with a sigh. 

He’s still staring at you, a small smile playing on his lips. It’s still laced with his annoying pride, yet there’s also something undeniable soft about it too. He opens his mouth to speak, but you swiftly put a hand up.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” You tell him. 

Chan just smirks. “Too late.” Then he leans in on the counter. “You talk about me?”

You glance away for a second, the smile on your face refusing to fade. “Are you going to be more insufferable if I said yes?”

“Absofuckinglutely.”

You snort at that. Briefly, you glance down at the curated heart in the foam, then back up at Chan. Warmth bubbles between the crevices of your ribs. 

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” You admit quietly, masking away the confession with a sip of your drink.

Chan blinks, caught off-guard. “What?”

But you’re already turning on your heel to give him a proper response, instead only leaving him hanging with a, “Have a good rest of your day, Chan.”

He’s left standing there limply as you and Seungkwan slip your way through the door and back outside. 

But then, a wide victorious smile crosses his face. It’s enough to fully recharge his energy and his heart. 

The faint scent of weed and alcohol mixes in with the overwhelming smell of chlorine. 

There’s this little staff-only after gathering at the waterpark. So far, it’s been nothing but gloriously chaotic𑁋a completely unregulated event where you and your fellow attendants, lifeguards, and store owners can cannonball off slides and utilise the waterpark attractions with zero supervision. 

You expect Chan and Soonyoung to be here somewhere, but you haven’t seen either one of them at all this entire time. But to be fair, you have been sticking with Nayeon and a few other attendants in the lazy river for the past hour, floating down the stream on floaties with about three different brands of canned beers in your hands.

And honestly? You’re content. A little tipsy, damp, and relaxed in a way you haven’t felt in a long time.

Fifteen minutes later, you𑁋and about fifteen other people𑁋are gathered in a circle in a wide picnic area near the cabanas. Beach towels, lounge chairs, and even floaties are all being used as makeshift seating. All of you are being obnoxiously loud, sharing various horror stories about the now closed waterpark with one another, and clearly very buzzed. 

You’re currently sitting on your own beach towel, water dripping off your hair and body and onto the ground below. As you take another sip from your can, a sudden shadow looms above you. 

“Hey, rookie.” The voice is immediately recognisable, and you look up to see him𑁋Chan, very much topless and sporting a pair of swimming trunks, a towel over his shoulder, and water glistening off his skin like he’s the epitome of a TikTok thirst trap that came to life. You take in the view for a second too long. 

Your brain short-circuits for a moment. “Hey yourself.”

Chan drops down beside you on the towel, clicking open a can of beer for himself that he takes a long sip of before sitting it back down on the ground. 

“You having fun?” he asks.

You chuckle lightly, nodding your head. “Yeah. Is this, like, a yearly thing or?”

“Sort of this team-bonding tradition that we have every year,” he affirms. “Helps us veterans get to know the newbies𑁋you know, like you𑁋a bit more. And a way to destress from this absolute shitstorm of a summer so far.” 

Your fingers tap rhythmically against your can. “Hm, I don’t know. I’m starting to like this shitstorm of a summer.”

Chan turns to you, eyes beaming. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You meet his eyes momentarily, before shooting your gaze back down to your diamond-patterned towel and taking in a deep breath. “I’ve never enjoyed any of my other past jobs until this, you know. Thought I’d hate having to order kids around, but I guess seeing them scream their asses down a slide for eight hours straight is more appealing than you think.”

A laugh leaves Chan𑁋a full-on, unfiltered sound𑁋and it makes something inside you feel warm and fuzzy, and it’s definitely not entirely from the alcohol. 

“Well, I’d say you’re quite a natural,” he says, playfully nudging you with his shoulder. “You ever think about… coming back next year?”

You have thought about it. After all, you did only apply for the summer position temporarily, because the pay is average and you’re getting closer to graduating with a degree that could hopefully land you in a full-time job. But you aren’t lying that the thought of leaving when the summer ends is a bit, well… disappointing. 

Before you can answer his question, Soonyoung’s voice booms out from somewhere.

“Spin the bottle, truth or dare edition, losers! Everyone’s playing!” 

A collection of groans and cheers leap into the air. You and Chan stand up to bring the towel closer to the circle, settling in between Nayeon and this other lifeguard named Vernon from the Wave Pool. 

The bottle𑁋an empty, hastily-rinsed Sprite glass bottle𑁋sits in the very centre. 

“Everyone should know the rules by now: spin the bottle, ask the person it lands on truth or dare, and if they don’t answer or do the dare then they take a shot,” Soonyoung explains enthusiastically, clasping his hands together like some sort of cartoon villain. 

Soonyoung is the first to spin the bottle. He spins fast enough to have it roll off-centre. You watch as it slows to wobble, and you purse your lips together in anticipation at the odds of it landing on you, but it doesn’t.

It lands on Vernon.

“Alright, Wave Pool Prince.” Soonyoung turns towards Vernon with a mischievous grin. “Truth or dare?”

Vernon thinks for a moment, before casually answering, “Dare.”

“I dare you to call your ex and ask them on a date,” Soonyoung insists with confidence.

Vernon sighs, and you, Chan, and everyone else watches as he pulls out his phone, scrolls a few times, before bringing it up to his ear. You hear your other coworkers let out shouts and laughter of disbelief. 

“Hey,” Vernon says into the phone, clearing his throat. “I was just calling to ask𑁋hypothetically𑁋if you wanted to go on a date with me?”

There’s a pause.

Then he nods. “Oh, cool. Yeah, uh… are you free this Monday?”

A collective gasp ripples through the air. Vernon puts down his phone and shrugs.

“She said sure.”

Soonyoung’s jaw drops to the floor. “What the hell? I wish my ex was as receptive as yours.”

It’s Vernon’s turn to spin the bottle, but he doesn’t spin it with much force. It only spins one entire lap around the circle before stopping right at Nayeon, literally just a hardly an inch from it landing on you. 

“Shit,” she mutters, adjusting her bikini top like she was preparing to fight war. 

Vernon chuckles lightly. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Nayeon answers. 

Vernon leans back on his palms, trying to think of a proper truth to ask. A curious, yet devilish look runs across his face.

“Is it true I saw you hooking up with that one dude who works at the bar in the breakroom last week?”

Nayeon’s eyes nearly bulge out of her skull, and you nearly choke on your drink. You see the way she attempts to keep a straight face, but the guilt at her lips is far too obvious𑁋even a little kid could see she was hiding something.

“Okay, fine. He was cute, okay?!” she declares in embarrassment. “And I was hella stressed!”

Vernon just raises his can of beer toward her. “Honestly, respect, dude.”

Nayeon grumbles something under her breath before defeatedly clinking her own glass against his. 

A few more rounds pass by, the truths and dares getting more absurd by the second. Another lifeguard named Joshua was dared to go skinny dipping in the Lazy River, but lamely declined it with a shot. Soonyoung, ever the partygoer, chose dare on pretty much every single time the bottle landed on him, even accepting one to do a cannonball in the shallow bit of the pool𑁋which thankfully, he didn’t break anything. 

It’s Soonyoung’s turn again to spin the bottle. He gives it one wild spin, and everyone watches as it whirls around the centre, sending leftover droplets of water flying off its sides. It clinks against the concrete underneath, twirling a few times around the group.

It slows, wobbles a few times, and finally…

…lands on Chan.

“Fucking finally!” Soonyoung whoops excitedly, using his entire body to turn to Chan. “Channie boy, truth or dare?”

Chan pauses. There’s two ways out of this: choose truth and take the easy way out by letting Soonyoung ask him something stupid, or take the dare and do something stupid. Neither option seems exactly appealing at all. It’s Soonyoung, after all. 

For a second, he glances at you, sitting there and waiting patiently for him to answer, while the chant of the word dare floats tauntingly around him. He throws his head back with a groan, giving Soonyoung a challenging look. 

“You already know what I’m going to pick.”

“Dare it is,” Soonyoung quips gleefully. “I dare you to kiss the prettiest person in the circle right now. On the lips.”

There’s an eruption of absurd laughter at the dare. Chan feels a lump that he struggles to swallow down his throat, his expression frozen with a mixture of you’ve got to be fucking with me right now and I’m going to kill you, Kwon Soonyoung. 

He lets his instinctively gaze sweep around the circle, taking in everyone else’s expectant faces. But obviously, he doesn’t even need to consider anyone else in the circle𑁋there’s only one person, and one person only that he has in mind. 

His eyes linger on you beside him a little longer. 

You, sitting there with strands of wet hair stuck to your cheek. You, who came into Carat Bay with the grumpiness of an owl and wormed your way into his heart from the very first day that you met. You, who always left his boba shop flipping him yet still seemed to be the highlight of his day. You, who makes him feel like the dumbass protagonist in a summer flick. 

You, who is also looking at him right at this damn moment, as if you already know what he’s thinking. 

Chan leans in just a tiny bit, gaze flickering down to your lips and then back up to your eyes again. Your breath hitches at the imperceptible movement, as if maybe, just maybe, he was going to do it. 

Perhaps it’s the alcohol buzzing through his veins, or the look you’re giving that’s encouraging him to shove down all his nerves and just do it. But instead, he leans back, letting out a short, awkward, breathless laugh. He reaches for the bottle of soju next to Vernon’s feet and swallows down a long swig. 

It burns down his throat, and he allows the taste to distract him from the way your eyes are still on him. 

“Ugh, lame!” Soonyoung wails disappointingly. “That could’ve been your moment, dude!” 

Right next to him, you’re quiet. You don’t say anything. You can’t tell if what you’re feeling is relief, or disappointment. You give him a tiny nudge on the knees with your own, and he doesn’t look back up at you, though you can clearly see the tight-lipped smile on his face. 

From then, the game continues. The bottle spins. The dares become more scandalous. But Chan feels like he’s watching it from somewhere far away.

“Get home safe, girl!” You hear Nayeon call back to you from where you’re packing up your belongings.

“See you tomorrow!” You holler back, watching as the girl’s figure retreats in the direction of the parking lot.

Everyone else has left at this point. The waterpark has grown completely quiet, except for the sounds of crickets chirping and the gentle gurgle of water in the nearby pools. Chan has also left, though you didn’t specifically see him leave. Disappointment crawls up your skin as you swing your bag over your shoulder and grab an extra can of beer for the hell of it before starting your way out of the waterpark. 

You pass by the closed shops, stands, and attractions, knowing that you’re most likely leaving by the time summer ends, which is approaching way quicker than you needed it to be. 

You pause in front of Chan’s shop, the sign stating Chan’s Bubble Bar looming above you. All the lights are off inside, and you hardly ever thought how peaceful this place must be at night. Or chaotic, rather𑁋it’s easy to imagine Chan and Soonyoung being the dumbasses they are closing the shop late and creating new experimental drinks for the menu.

You smile at the thought.

You’re halfway across the bridge that overlooks the Lazy River when at the corner of your eye, you spot some movement. Your footsteps come to a halt, and you squint down to see something𑁋specifically, someone𑁋floating atop the water.

There, drifting down the slow current of the Lazy River, is Chan. His arms are spread out like wings over the water, head tilted to stare up towards the night sky. Compared to all your interactions and countless moments of bickering, it’s oddly serene to see him there just… living. 

You snort a little under your breath, amused, and wholeheartedly decide to screw it.

You dash your way down to the Lazy River, stopping at a point where he was slowly floating towards. He hasn’t noticed you yet.

“I can’t tell if you���re dead or just lost in thought.”

The sound of his voice quickly catches his attention, and he picks his head up to notice you standing there with your arms crossed, watching him with a small smile. Chan swiftly adjusts his position, his legs shooting under the water as he paddles himself to stay afloat. 

“Didn’t peg you for a midnight swim kind of guy,” You say, dropping your bag down on the floor.

“Yeah? Well, the more you know,” he quips back playfully. “I thought you were already gone.”

“I was leaving until I saw this dumbass floating here by himself,” You admit teasingly. “Mind if I joined you?”

Chan opens his mouth to answer, having this urge to say no, but quickly shuts himself up as he watches you peel your shirt off and throw it to the side, revealing the same swimsuit you’ve had on since earlier. He averts his eyes hastily, feeling the current pick up just slightly as you ease yourself into the pool. 

“Hey,” You greet him, making him spin his head back around just to freeze when he realises how close you’ve swam up to him.

He tenses, then relaxes. “Hey.”

The Lazy River continues carrying the two of you downstream. The silence is surprisingly comfortable𑁋just you, Chan, and the stars twinkling above. The water ripples softly around you, cool against your skin, but your chest is feeling otherwise. At one point, Chan picks his head up to gaze at you, seeing the way the moonlight reflects off the droplets on your skin, how peaceful you look just beside him. 

This is really the first ever moment of quiet between you two. 

“You know,” You start. “I really hated you at first.”

Chan chuckles at that. “I believe that’s everyone’s first impression of me.”

“Yeah. You and your annoyingly cocky ass.” A small laugh leaves you. “I thought you were so full of shit. I wanted to shove every word you said down your throat and probably smack you.”

“Ouch,” Chan mutters, cringing lightly. “Let me guess, you still want to smack me?”

You think long and hard for a few moments, before ultimately shaking your head, a smirk crossing your face.

“Honestly? You have the most smackable face on the planet,” You downright confess. “But, unfortunately… you’re too cute, so no. Well, maybe sometimes.”

The two of you exchange a fit of giggles at that. Chan feigns a scandalised look, pretending to be offended, but you don’t miss the way his ears flush pink. Even in moonlight, he still becomes shy when you flirt back to him. Underneath the water, your knees accidentally brush, but neither of you seem to mind. 

“I’m not always this confident,” Chan adds in, his voice coming off more sheepish. “Yeah, being an absolute prick is fun, but sometimes I wonder if I do it just to cover my ass when I don’t know what to say.”

You turn to him curiously, allowing the current to drift you closer to him.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he rambles on, and you let him. “but yeah, I never once had a crush who liked me back in that way. I’ve always driven them away with how I act. It’s like… I don’t really know how to just be when I like someone.”

The raw honesty hits you hard. Because in what other universe does the annoying, prideful,  overly territorial, pain in the ass Lee Chan confess something like this to someone? In what universe has anyone seen this vulnerable side of him? Sure, you two can bicker like puppies and drive each other to the edge with playful threats, but this? 

This is the real him. 

“I like you,” You admit quietly.

Chan’s brows raise. “What?”

“I like you, Chan,” You echo back, more confident and louder this time. “And maybe I do want to drown your dumbass sometimes, I still like you.”

There’s that befuddled look on his face again𑁋a face you’ve grown to adore. You visibly see the way he struggles to process your words, his brain clearly malfunctioning yet again, or like it always does when you say something genuine to him. The river curves slightly, pushing the two of you even closer together to the point where your shoulders are almost brushing. 

“Oh,” is all that squeaks out of him. “That’s… cool. Great. Fantastic, even.”

You blink. “Is that seriously your response?”

“I𑁋no, I mean𑁋I like you too,” he stammers out, voice rising an octave as he waves his arms, causing a small splash. “Like, a lot. Probably since the day you called me a pain in the ass.”

It’s hard to suppress the way your mouth is twitching into a grin. “You’re so fucking lame, you know that?”

“Let a guy panic in front of his crush!” he exclaims shakily. “I’m in uncharted territory! I didn’t know you’d actually mean it.”

“Well, I did,” You say simply, tilting your head as you float next to him. “Even when you’re being a smug idiot. Even when you didn’t kiss me earlier. I still like you, Chan.”

Chan winces at the memory. “I just… I’m sorry.”

You find yourself floating directly in front of him, close enough he can feel your body heat radiating onto his. He stares at you𑁋really stares at you𑁋like he can’t believe what’s real and what’s not. The fact that you’re even here right now sends his heart into a complete overdrive. He swears he’s going to burst.

“Then fix it,” You insist lowly. 

Chan’s eyes widen. “What?”

“Kiss me, Chan.”

A small, disbelieving laugh leaves him. And then without another word, he starts to lean in. This time, there’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. 

You meet him halfway.

One of his hands drift down under the water to rest at your waist, the other coming to cup your face. Your own hands settle on top of his shoulders, holding onto him as your lips brush up against each other, allowing the current to drift you both. But you barely feel it. All you can feel is him. 

The kiss itself isn’t cinematic, grand, or an explosion of fireworks. It’s warm, clumsy, and sweet all at once. He tastes faintly of the soju earlier and from summer heat, like laughter exchanged in nights under the stars and something else that is undeniably him𑁋sweat, boba teas, and the endless teasing that follows him around. You melt shamelessly into it anyway, relishing how soft his lips are against yours and the jittery hands clutched onto you as if he still can’t believe that you’re real.

His nose accidentally bumps into yours, causing you to giggle into the kiss. The water continues to slosh around you as your hand comes up to cradle the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper into you. There’s a small hitch of his breath that leaves him at the touch, sending shivers up and down his spine. 

When you finally pull apart your arm, Chan is absolutely gawking at you. 

“Holy shit,” he says breathlessly. “Someone pinch me𑁋did that just happen?”

You roll your eyes, reaching down to pinch him lightly on his waist. 

“Ow!” He flinches, shooting you a small glare. “I meant it metaphorically!”

“God, you’re such a loser,” You say with an all-too-fond expression. 

His eyes flutter to a close as he feels the way your thumb is rubbing circles on the skin at the top of his shoulder. For a moment, the two of you just float there, with your foreheads pressed together and completely ignoring the way your limbs are basically turning into prunes for being in the water for God knows how long at this point.

Chan giggles sheepishly. “We’re going to be so royally screwed when we go back to tomorrow, you know that, right?”

You steal another quick kiss from his lips again, and he completely forgot what he just said two seconds before. 

“Yeah, well…” You allow your head to rest on top of his shoulder, his arms slipping properly around you under the water. “At least we’ll be screwed together.” 

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[neil-gaiman]

This may very well get lost in the flood, but if you see this, I just wanted to say that there were a lot of things I thought I wanted for good omens 2 (a happy ending for one, of course!)

But my favourite thing that a writer can do to my experience of a story is to make me go "okay forget EVERYTHING I said before, this is the outcome I didn't know I needed." This show took my hopes and said "no u don't actually :) i got something better" and it had the audacity to be SO RIGHT.

The finale I *thought* I wanted would have probably had me giggling and kicking my feet and then moving on with my day while in a bright mood for a bit.

The finale I got had me absolutely devastated, inconsolable for maybe an hour, and then just...immediately rewatching. And talking about it behind a fortress of spoiler tags. And writing, and drawing, and being invested in theories and trying to find all the easter eggs and just...falling in love with the story and the characters all over again. And I can tell that feeling will stay with me for a whole lot longer than a couple days.

I'm bad at brevity, I apologize! This is just a very long-winded way to say thank you (and thank you to everyone else on the team) for giving us these idiots (affectionately) to have Way Too Many Feelings about!! Thank you for sharing them with us.

I'm running GO in the background, crossing my fingers and looking forward to a season 3—whether or not it'll be what I'm *hoping* for, I am just beyond excited for whatever story it is that you want to tell us, and I trust that whatever it is, it will be wonderfully told! 🩶🩶

(But also, please, for your consideration...I am in fact soft and innocent, I can only take so much damage before I cry myself to critical dehydration—do with that what you must, I shall leave my electrolyte balance in your hands and hope for mercy. You did say everything would be okay, and thankfully we all know a writer would never lie!)

I wouldn't lie about that, anyway.