#but the last time i was employed was for a single shift last fall

[boyingray]

getting hired when trans. is a pain

[wuahae]

☼ dayglow

pairing: mingyu x f!reader

wc: ~19k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chaeyoung.”

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

"Chaeyoung."

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

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

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

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

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

"You said that already."

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

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

"It shows dedication—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That is just some guy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel so wronged. “What about you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seungkwan.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, babe…”

“Et tu!”

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

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

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

“Bummer…”

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

“I am not—”

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

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

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

“Hong?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m in love…”

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

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

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

“But why not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t expect anyone else to be here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like me?

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

“Huh? No, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your grip on your spoon tightens.

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…?”

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

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

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

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

You drive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What were you thinking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There’s no way this is happening right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great, thank you.”

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

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

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

“Yes…?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I knew it!”

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

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

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

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

“You know me so well.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“See! I knew you would get it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’d asked me to keep it a secret.”

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

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

It was just surfing, wasn’t it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Did you… just become friends with Kim Mingyu?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your eyes widen, rapidly sending a text back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mingyu grins and waves. “Hey!”

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

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

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

“Seungkwan,” you call dryly.

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

“But I thought—”

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

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

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

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

Like that.

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

You blink.  “I can explain.”

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

“Stop it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the hell. What the actual hell.

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N.”

Your breath catches. “Yeah, Mom?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, what—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you guys talking about—”

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

“When…” you gape. “When did you—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you thinking about?”

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

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

“I do not!”

“Seungkwan and Chaeyoung can attest!”

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

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

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

“You’re leaving tomorrow morning, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You point at him triumphantly. “See!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You eye him warily. “On what?”

“If you’ll let me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[queenimmadolla]

Hey, me again! Sorry to bother you but I wondering if I can send a request about my favourite family (but of course remember to take the time you need to write this or completely ignore this request if you don't like it)? I was thinking about the reader coming back home from an afternoon with the other girls and once she comes back, she sees the most adorable scenario she has ever seen. Eddie and the other boys sitting on the tiniest chairs ever, wearing tiaras, make up, fake earrings, playing having tea with Penny and her stuffed animals. Idk, I thought it was cute😅

But Again, feel free to ignore this request if you don't want to write it. Thank you and I hope you have a nice day❤️

this was such a cute request for them and i enjoyed every single second of writing it. i hope i did it justice and i hope you enjoy!

𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐚 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

(girl dad!eddie munson x mom!reader/pregnant!reader)

warnings: imagery of men in terrible makeup and mentions of pregnancy (reader is pregnant) more penny, eddie and reader (and baby wayne) adventures here :)

If someone were to have told younger you, you’d be a mom before you were the age of 21, you probably would have punched them in the face, strictly because of the implication and the jinxing. While having a baby was something you entertained after seeing a particularly cute one out in the world or something, you weren’t overly fond of the idea of raising a tiny human with someone or even on your own. You considered yourself much too selfish for that. 

  …However, if someone were to have told you you’d have Eddie Munson’s–one of three local freaks and town urban legend in the making—babies, you probably would have given them the keys to your car and maybe the deed to your parents’ home.

  Your crush on the metal head had a lasting effect on you. When you’d actually begun dating him, falling head over ass in love, being with him was all that mattered to you and it didn’t feel pathetic because it was all he wanted, too. 

  Immediately after graduation came marriage and then Penny, your cute little Oopsie as Eddie referred to her when she was in your tummy. You preferred it over his original nickname for her, which was Creampie, seeing as how he was sure that was how she’d been conceived. You forced him to change it.

  Of course, since you had said baby with another on the way, you had to provide for them. Eddie had already been employed at an autoshop—his skill with the mechanics of a car was probably what led to Penny’s conception, you just couldn’t help yourself when faced with Grease Monkey Eddie—and Eden got you a job with her at her father’s firm as his partner’s receptionist.

  It worked out pretty well, Eden didn’t have a car so you’d pick her up before work since she’d rather jump off her roof than drive with her dad, who was also her boss, then afterwards you’d drive back to the trailer where Eddie and Argyle would be waiting for the two of you (if Argyle wasn’t off, she’d chill with your little family until he came to get her because she didn’t want to go home and you couldn’t blame her).

  Normally, your job wasn’t super stressful, you’d just been exhausted lately, though you didn’t exert yourself (Eddie would never allow it). 

  Today you had felt every agonizing second of the work day, it had been so slow. You’d done all the filing, made all the copies, called all the people, there just hadn’t been as much going on as usual and after you’d managed to make it to lunch time, the last half of your shift was spent staring across the room at Eden, both of you blinking owlishly at each other, staring contests, trying to get paper airplanes to reach the other, anything to stave off the boredom. Suddenly, you couldn’t wait til you could take maternity leave. 

  After work, you’d both practically sprinted to your car, the ride was spent bitching about the work day. The closer you got to your home, the more life you felt began to fill you; energy the work day had sucked away returning to you at the notion of seeing Eddie and Penny.

  If you had known exactly what you’d be walking into, you may have transcended into a higher level of joy.

  You and Eden were still chatting as you shut your car doors, still shedding the weight of the work day. She’d been talking about moving in with Argyle, something she was desperate to do but her parents were still hesitant about when you unlocked the front door, pushing it open for her.

  Eden had walked through the doorway and stopped, causing you to run into her back. 

  “What’s the hold up?” You asked, peering around her shorter frame. The sight made you gasp.

  “Hi, honey!” Eddie greeted you, grin so wide it almost looked like it hurt.

  Eddie, Argyle and Jonathan—always dragged around with Argyle—were crouched in tiny pink plastic chairs (much too small for them to actually allow their weight to rest in, lest they break them) around the small table in the living room, which was cluttered with various kitchen utensils and Penny’s pink tea set. 

  Not an unusual sight, since they always indulge your three year old. What was new was the bright colors adorning their faces.

  Eddie had on bright purple eyeshadow (complete with poorly replicated wings of eyeliner), cheeks powdered with an even brighter pink and lips coated in a deep shade of red lipstick, meticulously applied judging by the precision. Pink clip-on earrings dangled from his lobes and around his waist was one of Penny's pink tutus—stretched to its limit.

  Argyle’s long dark locks were in two high, messy ponytails. His eyes were decorated with a blue eyeshadow (ruined with various marks and stains of mascara), cheeks powdered bright red and lips a coral orange. His tutu was purple and his earrings were red.

  But Jonathan…oh, Jonathan. His eyeshadow was pink, cheeks pink, and lipstick a bright red. Penny was always more gentle with Jonathan, for some reason. His makeup didn’t look as messily applied as the majority of Argyle’s and Eddie’s. Unlike with them, Penny had attempted to draw on eyelashes for him, and he had smatterings of glitter sporadically around his face. Not only did he have one of her pink tutus and green earrings, he also got the privilege of wearing her favorite pair of fairy wings.

  He refused to make eye contact with you, staring into the tiny, plastic tea cup clenched in his hand.

  “Hi, babe. What happened here?” You asked, hand moving to hide your smile, though you were pretty sure it was obvious. Penny—dressed in her pink princess dress and a purple feather boa, pretty little face also covered in makeup with a plastic crown carefully placed on her head to make sure her curls didn’t get tangled in the combs of it (Eddie had to have put it on her)—returned from the hallway closet where her toy box was located, arms full of her stuffed animals, all of which she dropped the moment she saw you.

  “Mommy!” She squealed and you squatted down to allow her to run into your arms as Eden stepped out of the way and disappeared into your room. “LOOK, MOMMY! I made daddy and unca Ahgle and unca Johnny puddy!”

  “Uh huh,” was all you could say without laughing. 

  “We awe having a tea pa’ty.” Penny informed you after she’d unwound her arms from around you, giving your baby bump a gentle pat before she ran back over to scoop up her stuffies. They were placed in the other empty plastic chairs surrounding the table and actually looked like they fit in the tiny seats, unlike the grown men.

  “Do you think I’m pretty, mama?” Eddie asked, batting his eyelashes at you with his red lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. Eddie was no stranger to makeup, you’d done his eyeliner for gigs plenty of times and he could now do it on his own, but that only involved lining his waterline and tightlining, not wings. 

  He and Jonathan had silently stared at themselves in the bedroom mirror, self reflecting on how they got themselves in this position, for longer than either of them would care to admit. But Eddie would do anything for Penny and he knew you would get a crack out of seeing him like this.

  Argyle was too high (it was a perpetual thing at this point, he’d been stuck in a high since back in high school) to care, although he’d wanted his ponytails braided and Penny wouldn’t allow it.

  “I think you’re something,” You offered through your giggles and Eddie chuckled along with you, stopping only when a flash of bright light momentarily lit up the room and blinded him. 

  Eden lowered the Polaroid camera she’d retrieved from your room, plucking the picture that whirled out. 

  She shook it briefly and examined the developing photo with a careful eye before she smirked. 

  “Oh, this is a good one. I gotta make a copy of this for Nance.” 

  Jonathan stood up then, kind of. His butt was still stuck in the tiny chair so it went with him. “Eden, give me the photo.”

  Eden took that as her cue to take another one, cackling as she grabbed the film. 

  Jonathan began to advance. 

  “Eden—I mean it, give me the pictures—EDEN!” He shouted as she bolted out of the front door. He ran (as best as he could with a tiny chair attached to his ass) after her with Argyle following him to play instigator. 

  “Run, baby, run!” Then when he realized he’d be in both pictures as well, “GET HER, JONATHAN!”

  Eddie was howling with laughter, causing Penny to join in even though she hadn’t been paying attention to what was going on. Once he calmed down, he stood up from his chair, pulling the thing off of his hips, he moved it to the side and sat on the carpet, patting the spot between his legs to beckon you over. 

  You set your bag on the counter and went over to join them, settling between his legs as you leaned back into his chest with his encouragement for cuddles. Eddie pressed a kiss to your forehead, no doubt leaving a kiss stain as Penny set a little tea cup on a plastic plate down in front of you.

  “He’we you go, mama.” 

  “Oh, thank you, Penny!” You lifted the teacup by its tiny handle and pretended to take a sip. “That’s very good!”

  “Yes,” she stated, pleased and already distracted with arranging her stuffed animals in their seats.

  “Long day?” Eddie asked, mumbling against the side of your head as he continued to press kisses wherever his lips could reach. He’d clocked the lingering bits of tension and stress on you the moment you’d walked into the trailer, he also swore he had a sixth sense tied to you somehow, because he could always tell when something was wrong. He’d get bouts of anxiety at work and come home to find out you’d had a terrible day, so he’d taken to just calling you when the feeling popped up. 

  He hadn’t been wrong yet.

  “Yeah,” You sighed, turning onto your side as you burrowed further into Eddie and the soft shirt he wore. “It’s better now, though.”

  He hummed as you lifted your head, lips puckered.  With a grin, he closed the small distance, giving you your ‘welcome home’ kiss.

  “Awww!”

  You broke away, the two of you smiling as your attention was drawn to your daughter, who looked shy and had a small smile of her own as she wrung her little hands together.

  “You kissed.” 

  Eddie chuckled, chest shaking against you. 

  “We’ve kissed before, baby.” He pointed out. She’d witnessed you exchange thousands of (appropriate) kisses in front of her but lately she’d been cooing every time Eddie showed you affection. You thought she may like seeing you two love each other like the couples in the cartoons she watched.

  “Yes.” She giggled into her little palms, shoulders rising as she became even more bashful.

  You shook your head in amusement, raising a hand to rest your chin in, thumb absentmindedly stroking over your lower lip. You were surprised to see a shade of red over the skin of your thumb, considering you’d worn a nude shade of lipstick.

  Oh. Eddie’s lipstick. Right.

  Then you got to thinking about it, the gears in your head turning as your eyebrows furrowed. 

  “Eddie?”

  “Yes?” 

  “Where’d you get this makeup?”

  Eddie and Penny exchanged nervous glances and there was a long pause in between your question and his answer, deciding to try to get out of this like his daughter often tried to.

  “Yes.”

  “Eddie, is this my makeup?!”

  “Baby, I have to go pee, can you move real quick?”

  “You’re not getting away, answer the question!”

  Yes. It was your makeup.

[us3rnam3-r3dact3d]

i assume you'll be coming for blood (that makes two of us)

Chapter 2

Ao3 | 3.5k words | Sweetheart's POV

Things go from bad to worse, and all of it's Sweetheart's own doing. - Fooliverse Sweetheart faces off with that first shade. They already know Milo, but things are a lot more complicated than they might have been, not least because of their own stubbornness and pride. Hopefully that pride won't get them killed. Hopefully.

TW: violence, mentions of sex, the Department, illness, arguments, general toxicity

Jet had a handful of not so kind words for you when you finally showed up to work the next day, first for being late and then for not seeking medical attention the night before.  

“If you are unable to handle a single threat independently,” Jet had seethed, emailing medical about your impending visit as he spoke, “then you might consider a change in title.”  

You didn’t say a thing in protest. You ignored the orders to report to medical, and instead made your way back to your desk in the bullpen, pulling up the open case file on your shitty, ancient desktop computer. You added new notes to the shade’s file, new findings on its abilities and appearance, and drafted an email to a magical expert on Death. Unfortunately, that expert lived in Tanzania, so you would have to find someone who could translate your message to Swahili, and his back to English for any of it to matter.  

You missed lunch entirely, too focused on the work in front of you to glance down at the desktop clock or the silver watch your father had given you last Christmas that you wore invariably. You only recognized that it was nearing one in the afternoon when a hand tapped your desk, drawing your attention away from your investigation for the first time in hours.  

Dr. Collins was an intimidating man. You weren’t afraid of him, per say, but you certainly didn’t want to end up on the bad side of his death glare. When you looked up, recognizing his Department emblazoned white coat and the irritated crinkle in his brow, you shifted your gaze from his silver eyes to the bridge of his alkaline nose.  

“Investigator,” Collins’ drawl clipped his words particularly aggressively, “care to tell me why I received a memo that you were reporting to my office hours ago only to find you at your desk, looking like you just got dragged back from Hell?”  

Doctor Sam Collins was one of the rare vampires employed by the Department’s medical division. He oversaw the onsite infirmary, headed the magical/medical research in the Department’s underground labs, and liaised with D.A.M.N. concerning their healing courses. The only reason he was afforded those positions, of course, was because of his incredible power pre-turning.  

I was a wolf, Milo had said. You wondered if Collins had that same sort of grief in his voice when talking about his power.  

“Probably because I was, Doc.” You shrugged, stretching your back for the first time in hours. A series of loud, obtrusive cracks echoed out through the nearly empty room. When had everybody else left? You checked your watch. Lunch. Right. 

“I told you you’d find them here.” An indignant huff from behind you. You whipped your head around, your neck popping audibly at the sudden movement. Cam was standing at the entrance of the bullpen, his hands on his hips. You’d never seen him look annoyed before. His face was usually blank and serene.  

“You were right.” Collins shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re lucky your friend has a good read on you, Investigator. I was fixing to sick your supervisor after you. And I’ve worked with Jet long enough to know how unpleasant that would be.”  

You groaned, your head falling back to rest against your stiff office chair. God, your head was pounding. Your throat felt like something had clawed its way out of it. Your stomach was still uneasy. Your muscles ached.  

“You look terrible.” Cam said, suddenly much closer to you. You jerked at his nearness, nearly toppling out of your chair. The Doctor’s unnatural reflexes saved you. All of the annoyance leaked from him at once as he knelt to begin examining you. His hands were cold when they rested on your forehead, tilted your face this way and that. You wondered if it was a result of his vampiric condition, or if it was because he was a doctor.  

“Double whammy.” You muttered, your eyes slipping closed.  

“You’re delirious.” Collins replied. Healing magic sparked around you, warm and bright like sunshine. You let it wash over your skin, not fighting against Collins’ assessment or Cam’s gentle, soothing touch.  

“Are you making me calmer?” You asked Cam, more accusatory than anything. He huffed, offended.  

“I wouldn’t without asking.” Cam assured you. “I think... you’re just too tired to fight back.”  

“Something got its hooks in you.” The Doctor added. Cool hands hovered over the skin of your neck. “I’m gonna touch, just for a second. Let’s take care of these bruises.” 

“Bruises?” You croaked, just as Collins’ hands slid around your neck. His magic swelled around you, and you swung out, pushed at his shoulders to try and get him away. Your heart began to race, your body suddenly awake and alert. You stood, pushing your chair away and stumbling back from Collins and Cam.  

“Easy!” The doctor said, his hands extended in front of him like he was surrendering. Cam had a strange, sad look to him. Pity. Your stomach turned.  

“I’m sick.” You snapped, shaking your hands out at your sides. You were suddenly filled with anxious energy. “The flu.”  

Cam said your name, so soft and cloying. You knew that tone. He was talking down to you, treating you like you couldn’t handle this. You could handle this.  

“I should go home.” You said. “Since I have the flu.” Doctor Collins squinted at you. Those silver eyes nearly pulled you in. Your hand twitched to your phone. You should call Milo.  

“Let someone take you.” He ordered. “I’d do it myself if the damn sun wasn’t still up. You’re lucky you work on this side of the building, or I wouldn’t have been able to come up and see you in person.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his body sagging a bit. He looked exhausted all of a sudden. What a waste, you thought. He can’t help me.  

“I’ll be fine.” You said, shaking your head. “I’ll get an Uber or something.”  

“Please wait,” Cam said, stepping forward, a hand outstretched towards you, “let me take you home.” 

“It’s fine, Cam,” you sighed, “you’ve gotta get back to work.”  

It was raining by the time you stepped outside, and the late-summer, early-fall chill left you shivering and soaked. You hadn’t bothered with a jacket when you came stumbling into work, and you hadn’t bothered to snag the umbrella you kept in your desk’s bottom drawer for days just like this. Summer in Dahlia meant sudden rainstorms and that damp sort of air that hurt to breathe.  

Well, breathing hurt in general, at that moment. You stalked down the sidewalk, soaked through, and tried to decide where you were going.  

Home was in the opposite direction, but you refused to turn back and be seen as wandering from the Department’s windows. You kept moving, calling up your known paths through the city, trying to remember where you could double back.  

A car pulled up beside you, low to the ground, shining, and blood red. You ignored it, crossed your arms over your chest, and kept moving. You had learned by this point in your life not to give catcallers the time of day.  

“Hey Sweetness,” the voice of this particular catcaller got your attention. You stopped short, turned. Milo’s car halted its crawl. The sedan behind him honked impatiently, but Milo paid them no mind. “Whatcha doing out here in the rain? Not that I’m complaining about the wet shirt part.”  

“Asshole.” You whispered, but you opened the passenger door and deposited yourself inside, dripping all over his leather interior. 

“Woah,” Milo said, his voice suddenly concerned, “you weren’t kidding about the flu. You look like shit.” 

“Gee,” you rolled your eyes, “you flirt. You sure know how to make someone blush.” 

“Hey,” Milo put his car into drive and peeled off of the curb, merging dangerously fast with traffic. He swerved skillfully between cars going too slow for his liking. Your stomach lurched. “I’m expressing concern over here.” 

“I don’t need concern.” You hissed. “If everybody would stop pitying me it would make my fucking day.” 

Milo’s mouth snapped shut. His anger was palpable. Good. You preferred anger to whatever else he was cooking up. Anger you could deal with. Anger was familiar. 

“I’m taking you to my place.” Milo said after a long silence. “I’ll… make you soup. Or something.” 

You sighed, resting your head back against the seat. Your head pounded. You didn’t fight sleep when it pressed against the back of your eyes. 

When you woke, you realized that Milo must have carried you inside. You were in the center of his sinfully soft, sinfully giant bed, tucked into his billion thread-count sheets. You sat up and groaned as your migraine made its presence known. You couldn’t have at least slept that off. That would make your life a fraction easier, and that wasn’t allowed. 

When you got your legs under you, shaky knees and all, you found yourself clad in an oversized tee and boxer shorts. They smelled like Milo, even if you couldn’t imagine him wearing something so casual and you knew he didn’t frequent underwear at all. Or maybe he just went commando when he knew he might get lucky. Either way, he’d gone through the trouble of pulling these out for you, undressing you, re-dressing you, tucking you lovingly in bed. The sentimentality of it all made your stomach flip. 

You could smell something cooking and followed your nose down the stairs and through the twisting halls of Milo’s giant house. Said giant house included a kitchen that gave you a stab of jealousy when you first saw it. Milo wasn’t using it, not for much, anyway. He had an extensive bar cart in one corner, his giant, state of the art fridge was stocked entirely with blood, and his walk-in pantry had one corner filled with sugar snacks. He seemed to only keep food for his fuck buddies. You shivered at the idea of anybody else utilizing those. You would have to start keeping track of them, just to be sure. 

Milo was standing over the stove, a brand new wooden spoon in one hand, his phone pressed to his ear in the other. 

“Davey,” he hissed, “I’m not asking for a lecture. I’m asking how to make it just a little more palatable.” You could hear a deep voice rumble on the other side, but couldn’t make out any words. “Jesus Christ, I should have never called you! I’m not gonna make a fucking bone broth when Cambles so helpfully provides soup in nice little cans.” His eyes flicked to you, whether it was your heartbeat or your snickering that gave you away. He extended one finger to you, as if to say I’ll deal with you in a minute. “Yeah, yeah, whatever, you pretentious asshole.” He hung up. 

“House member?” You asked, crossing to the large island that filled up the middle of the spacious kitchen. There were plastic bags from some pharmacy or another littered around it. You poked around, nosey as ever. Generic painkillers. Three cans of chicken noodle soup. A dozen Gatorades of different flavors. A smattering of cold and flu medicines. Cough drops. He must have grabbed anything he thought might help. Cute. 

“Old friend.” He corrected, turning back to the little pot on the stove in front of him. “Davey doesn’t believe canned soup is a valid form of food. I thought he might have a few ideas on how to improve it. Turns out all he was interested in was telling me off for even buying it.” 

“I can eat canned soup.” You shrugged. “It’s all the same stuff.” 

“Exactly.” Milo huffed. He turned off his burner and started to pour the soup from the pot into one of his sleek, black ceramic bowls. Even his dishware looked expensive. “You get it.” 

He walked the bowl over to you, handed you a spoon, and directed you to one of the stools pushed up under the island. You sat down heavily, snagged a green Gatorade, and downed the soup like a starving man. 

“There’s more.” Milo said, sitting next to you. “And some stuff in the pantry. I just grabbed a buncha’ shit. Don’t know what you like.” 

“You didn’t have to do all that.” You shook your head. Milo refilled your bowl before you could blink. You didn’t protest. 

“Well, you looked like you needed it.” He shrugged. He was trying to act casual, but you could feel him observing you, taking in every detail, like he was waiting for you to keel over. 

Funnily enough, once you scraped your bowl and went to stand, your knees buckled. He caught you, of course. He bundled you into his chest, your cheek pressed against the exposed skin of his peck. Stupid, silken shirt unbuttoned to his navel. Stupid pretty silver necklaces, cold without any body heat of his own. Stupid little shake in his chest as he steadied you. 

“Easy, Sweets.” He said. “Just- will you take it easy? Let me help you.” He was exasperated. Frustrated. 

You pushed back, stumbling away from him. 

“I don’t-“ you shook your head, pressed your hands into the kitchen island and braced yourself. “I’m fine.” 

“Bullshit.” Milo spat. “You look like death warmed over. I can help! Let me help!” 

“I don’t need your help!” You shouted. Your voice rose out of you, anger and stubbornness filling you with newfound energy. “I can handle this! I don’t care what bullshit they put me through, I can handle it!” 

Milo was quiet. He held your gaze. You held his. Your brain screamed to look away, but you couldn’t. He hadn’t even tranced you, but you were trapped. 

“Did-“ he pursed his lips. “What did D.U.M.P. get you into?” 

He read you like a book. You gave too much away. 

“Where are my clothes?” You asked instead of answering him. He huffed, his hands falling to his hips. His stupid, pretty hands. His stupid, muscly hips. You didn’t know if you wanted to hit him or kiss him. 

“No.” He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“What do you mean ‘no?’” 

“I mean I’m not gonna let you go back into whatever the fuck you’re dealing with alone.” You opened your mouth to argue, but he extended that finger again. You didn’t care for that one fucking bit. “And I know you could handle it, Sweetness, you are a force of fucking nature. But you’re not being given the resources you need, and it’s clearly affecting you. So tell me what you need and I will give it to you, Sweetheart!”

“What I need,” you spat, “is for you to stop calling me that!”

“What?” 

“Sweetheart.” You poorly imitated his accent. He huffed out a short laugh. “Sweetness. All those stupid, cute nicknames.”

“Oh, so you think I’m cute?” He crossed his arms over his chest. His face smoothed over into a smile, but you could see the tension in his body. He was giving you an out, a way to step away from the argument before you said something you would regret. 

Fuck him. You would say what you wanted to say. 

“You’re not my boyfriend.” You growled. “And I’m not your mate.” 

It was a calculated killing blow. You knew as it left your tongue that it would hurt, that it would cut him to the bone. The two of you had fucked a handful of times, talked even less, but he, for some goddam reason, had shown you the parts of him that still bled. You hadn’t wanted to use them against him, but you had no choice. Your own weaknesses were so obvious, so clear to the eye, and anybody could use them against you. He was luring you in with all coddling and sweet talking. He didn’t care about you. You wouldn’t let him back you into a corner when you knew how to get away. 

Milo’s face went slack, his whole body rearing back from that word. Your gut twisted with something like guilt. You wouldn’t have that. You twisted your fingers into the collar of his oversized shirt and held on for dear life. This was survival, simple as that. Nothing personal. That was something that Milo of all people would understand. 

“Out.” He hissed finally, breaking the silence that had overtaken the kitchen. Milo’s eyes were dark, darker than they usually were. His pupils had blown to encompass his silver irises. His face went horrific in a split second. Your body reminded you that you were facing down a monster. 

He moved very suddenly, disrupting the air in the room. Your breath caught as his hands landed on you. Your clothes were pulled off before you could protest. Your heart seized in your chest, but as that word pressed at the back of your teeth, you were redressed in the blink of an eye. Your work clothes, still warm from the dryer, were buttoned and tucked before the cool air of Milo’s kitchen could touch your skin. Your shoes were on your feet. Milo’s hands landed on your shoulders and he began to steer you towards the door. Even this angry, his touch was gentle, feather light, like he was afraid to hurt you. 

And fuck, if that didn’t make you that much more angry. 

You were out the door, unsure if you’d even managed a single independent step. Milo’s touch left you immediately. Your phone, keys, wallet were in your hands. You spun around and saw your shitty sedan parked next to one of Milo’s six priceless sports cars in the driveway. He must have picked it up while you were sleeping. Your stomach flipped. 

You turned back around. Milo was hovering in the doorway, shadows cast across his face from the low light of his house. His eyes were glazed over entirely black now. His fangs were extended, pressing into his pretty, full lips. 

“I shared that with you,” Milo said, his voice tinged with something animalistic, something wild, “as a show of trust. I told that to you because I know that I have a lot of power. I told you something that I knew could hurt me, because I know it’s not easy to do that.” His face twisted up. You were terrified, for a moment, that he would cry. “Fuck you. Fuck you for using that to hurt me.” 

“You could hurt me without even trying!” You seethed. You wrapped your arms around your middle, trying to hold yourself up. 

“Yeah.” Milo nodded. “I could. But I didn’t.” 

The door shut in your face. You stared at the stained mahogany like it might have answers for you. You screamed until your chest gave way to stuttered, panicked gasps. You got in your car and drove away. 

Your desk was waiting for you when you made it back to the office. Jet’s office was darkened, and only a handful of other investigators remained at their desks. It was late evening, bordering on much too late to be here. You sat down anyway and started working. 

By the time morning came round, you had far more information than you did at the start of the day before. For one, you had a rudimentary understanding of Swahili, and had managed to properly convey what you needed from your expert using a few online dictionaries and whatever Google Translate had to offer. He was a pleasant guy, if your translations were correct, and had affirmed that he would send a statement your way within the next few days with everything he knew about shades broken down into simple enough terms for the Department to work with. 

Your back ached and your stomach was still in knots, but you felt much better than you had the day before. Whatever affects the shade’s life-sucking-bullshit left its victims with wore off with time and rest. You added it to your notes, and sent a quick email to Collins to report your improved health. The sun had started to rise when you received a message back. 

Report to medical for field clearance. Don’t make me sick Jet on you. 

You sighed, scrubbing at your tired eyes. You knew it was pointless to resist. Collins would get you down there eventually, one way or another. It looked better for you if you went voluntarily. 

There was a whole floor to the medical department. Half of it was dedicated only to Dr. Collins’ medical research and the seminars he taught for D.A.M.N.. The other half made up the Department’s extensive infirmary. Staffed by Dr. Collins’ loyal group of doctors and nurses. They were a vicious bunch, too smart for anybody’s good, and skilled beyond all reason in both mundane and magical healing. Collins expected nothing but exceptional skill from his staff, and he wouldn’t settle for anything less.

[pjsk-writin]

Hello 🩷 anon here. Thanks for doing the last request you did it amazingly but I was wondering if you could do Airi,Mizuki,Mafuyu and Honami with a reader(can be plantonic or romantic) that likes to play pranks on them often. Thanks :D

hiiii, ofc im happy u liked it !! u can interpret this however u want, i hope u like this !! <3

♡ PRANKSTER - Airi Momoi, Mizuki Akiyama, Mafuyu Asahina and Honami Mochizuki x Reader

Airi:

While Airi is not the fondest of pranks, she tolerates them because it's you that's pranking her

She'll always give you a look, sighing and scolding you softly as she tries to ensure you don't endanger yourself pranking her. You still keep pranking her though

She starts trying to find ways to catch your pranks, but she never really finds out how to do so. You're just so unpredictable with your pranks

One time, you pranked her on stream, and Airi's reaction quickly became a meme throughout the MMJ! fanbase

"Oh my god, you're gonna kill me with your pranks one day!-"

Mizuki:

The moment you pull a prank on Mizuki, they will immediately be like, "Oho? A worthy competitor?"

They love the fact that you like to play pranks on them, and will immediately try to one up you with every single prank. They learn to get real creative!

It gets to the point where they employ Rui's help to fully prank you, they're pulling all the stops to make sure they win this prank war

You'll honestly never see them as happy as they are after you prank them, a wide grin on their face as they tackle you in a hug

"Ey, that was pretty good! But I'll get you better next time!"

Mafuyu:

"...That was new." She's quiet, but you can see the small smile slip onto her face

Mizuki tried to prank Mafuyu once and failed, but there's something about your pranks that get her somehow

If you prank her in public, she'll let out a laugh and exclaim that you're really funny. It would surprise you to find out that her smile is actually real

You get about the same reaction if you prank her in private, her blank expression shifting into one of slight amusement as she tilts her head at you

She learns to expect your pranks, and acts accordingly, even asking Mizuki for what she should be looking out for

Honami:

The first time you pulled a prank on Honami, she was honestly just very confused

Besides Saki's antics every now and then, she's not really used to being pranked, so she will just stare at you with immense confusion

When you explain that it was a prank, her eyes widen in realization, and she gives a laugh of embarrassment as she realizes what you were trying to do

She's never fully prepared for your pranks despite the frequency of them, she'll always fall for them without fail

"Ah!- I guess you got me again...I'll catch on next time!" She does not.

[notmasonpines]

Calendars of the Boiling Isles

(In-Universe excerpt first, analysis on BI calendars and notes on this excerpt further down)

Tl;dr: Dana said the BI has a 666 day calendar, the show says it has a 365 day calendar, I say that concluding this is a simple contradiction is boring, and that both calendars existing is more fun to discuss (just that Belos hated the old calendar and forced the Gregorian one onto the BI after he established the empire).

Prior to the founding of the empire, the witches and demons of the Boiling Isles measured the passage of time with the Celestial Calendar, which was based on the periodic and reliable cyclic trajectory of the Wandering Star through the thirteen segments of the Intestina Tract wrapped around the celestial sphere. A full cycle in this calendar consisted of 666 days, with 74 weeks of nine days divided over 13 months, each defined by the period the Wandering Star spent in one of the constellations, which could become quite disproportionate in some cases. However, soon after the founding of the empire, emperor Belos implemented and began to enforce the Imperial calendar. The Imperial calendar employs years that consist of 365 days, divided into 52 weeks of seven days. These weeks are further divided into nine months, with four months of five whole weeks, three of six, and two of seven. These months can further be associated with one of the main covens, as per the Titan’s Will, providing a deeper symbolic connection to our lands and magic rather than a reliance on an extra-terrestrial phenomenon. The remaining day, separating the years, belongs to no weekday or month, instead being associated with the Emperor’s Coven, and is called a day of unity —Not to be confused with The Day of Unity, which is a promised, singular event, the date whereof may fall on any day, and could be significant enough to serve as the new transition point between years in a post-Unity calendar. Every four years there is a pair of days of duality instead, where the celebrations for the past year and the upcoming year are expanded upon and split between the two. The switching of calendars brought many difficulties to the Isles. Mainly the need to convert between a person’s Celestial and Imperial age, though the former is now firmly out of use, beyond elderly people attempting to sound younger through letters or Penstagram messages, as well as the switch to shorter five-day work weeks from the prior seven days. This last change was considered a positive by many, and the more regular, even spread of the weeks over the months compared to the old system helped with the smooth, willing adoption of the Imperial calendar. The only remnant of the old calendar can be seen in the practice of assigning people birth constellations based on the Wandering Star’s position in the Intestina Tract, which can bring quite some confusion to the younger generations, as this cycle does not line up with our coven-based one, with several constellations inconsistently overlapping and shifting over time if one only has the written attempts to match Imperial times with Celestial months to rely on.

I've always found the references to what calendar the Boiling Isles uses interesting…but also very confusing/conflicting. The first time it really came to my attention was during the Q&A panel the crew held for Gallery Nucleus. One of the questions was about star signs, to which Dana (indirectly through a pre-prepared text) answered that the BI has a calendar that consists of 666 day years with 13 months, each represented as a worm or tube-like demon (I at first almost didn't catch the joke of just how easy it is to make constellations for those animals, just connect any sequence of stars with a single line and you're done).

So, funny hahah Beast's Number and unlucky number for Demon and Witching Realm calendar, very fitting.

Except then come the complications.

First of all, ages would be all out of whack. Since BI years in this calendar would be 1.8 times as long as Earth years, that would mean that the age of someone according to this calendar (which I'll call the Edgy Calendar for short) is about half what you expect compared to their biological age based on our own calendar. And we do get actual age drops by BI residents, like Hunter being called 16 by Darius, or Skara having her 15th birthday.

Either that means the Hexside crew except Luz are actually all in their mid 20s to 30s based on Earth years, and physically age about half as fast as humans (which they don't. It's confirmed witches have similar natural lifespans to that of humans), the days on the BI are only 13 hours long (which I can't imagine Luz's biological clock vibing with while having her remain as upbeat and awake as we see her in the show), or the fun Calendar fact from the Q&A doesn't fit with canon and is just straight-up false, with canon trumping anything contradictory said by the creators outside of the show (something Dana subscribes to) and the BI use a Calendar with years that are about as long as our own.

And it makes sense that the Edgy Calendar is more a joke than a serious fact. It wasn't even part of the main response to the actual question that was anticipated, since that was about star signs and birth constellations. The Calendar was just made to completely mismatch ours so there'd be no easy or meaningful way to determine birth signs for BI characters. It could definitely also be an early concept thing that wasn't implemented because of the previously mentioned age stuff, or something that was thought up far too late to implement and match with in-canon stuff (like the mentioned ages).

But that's also a very boring answer, especially since the 666-13 stuff is very fitting. So, how to reconcile the complications while having our cake and eating it too?

Well, see the excerpt back at the top: Just have the Edgy Calendar be the old one and the Earth-like Calendar the new one, implemented by Belos when he rose to power.

It would certainly be in-character for him to do so. We know he was losing track of time after he'd spent a while in the Demon Realm, and the mismatched Calendars at the time would definitely contribute to that. Add to that the fact both the Beast's Number and the unlucky number are involved, and someone like Philip would absolutely despise it. Obviously one of his first acts as Emperor would be to abolish it and implement a calendar that matches the Gregorian one in length. The man completely upended an entire culture with the Coven system, surely he can implement a new calendar.

This does bring along the interesting implication that the Boiling Isles doesn't really have any event or cycle that could determine a year, as otherwise such a switch would've never been possible, let alone accepted (like seasons, which we don't really see. Though we're only there in the summer period from Earth's perspective). Which further implies that the BI planet has very little to no axial tilt.

The Moonlight Conjuring does put a bit of a wrench in this idea, however, since it's said that 'the celestial powers only align once a year'. Which would be a great way to define a calendar, and brings questions as to why it wasn't used like that before.

Then again, though this is a common expression for 'each instance happens exactly one year apart', it technically only says it happens once a year, not that the time between consecutive events is regular or predictable (you can have the Oracle Coven predict when the next one comes). Perhaps it's more like a lunar eclipse that just so happens to occur often enough to be almost always once a year.

As for how I put together my own 'Imperial Calendar', one of the few things we do know about the calendar that's currently in use (besides the years being as long as Earth years), is that at least one month has 40 or more days (Eda talks about 40th of Scabuary in Them's the Breaks, Kid, and in Wing it Like Witches we see a calendar month that's six weeks of seven days each long).

To be honest, I certainly like the idea of having months that are made up of whole weeks, making each date have the same weekday no matter what year it is.

And then came the task of dividing 52 weeks of seven days (plus the unaffiliated day) into neat months. After some struggling, the best, most pleasing combination I could come up with was 4 months of 5 weeks, three of 6, and two of 7. That it amounts to 9 months to match the main covens was also very convenient.

Some last notes: Since, with these conclusions, the BI didn't have any significant annual cycle they used to keep track of the years, they could've used any regular cycle to keep track of the years. So, rather than something lame and normal like the actual orbit of the Demon Realm planet (tracked through observing the sun move through some constellations near its ecliptic), or by observing the phases of its moon for the months, I made up something more wacky.

Since we already had the Wailing Star, I thought a star that makes a meandering trip across the night sky over the span of 666 days would be fun (And it could be one of the Archivists, idk. I like the headcanon that the Wailing Star is one of the Archivisists, crying out over the loss of their sibling, so why not have another that continues its normal duty of observing from a distance, slowly making their way along a route that passes along all the planets in the sky that they check in on?) And since the star doesn't move along the tract at an equal speed (the actual layout of star systems it floats past will be at different distances, despite looking projected on a sphere from the perspective of a BI resident) it brings some extra funkiness of some months being widely longer than others.

Plus, since all the constellations are worms or worm-like, I can use the name for an old, outdated taxonomy system where most typical worms were classed under 'Intestina', and since this version of the 'zodiac belt' is less a belt and more a random track, the 'Intestina Tract' matches perfectly with the pun names based on body parts that all locations on the BI have. I also imagine the Intestina Tract as being illustrated as a bunch of worms and tube-like demons one after the other, each eating the next's tail like some messed up, multi-stage ouroboros.

Anyway, thanks for reading.

[phantomrose96]

Buds After the Frost

This was supposed to be a short warm-up writing exercise yesterday and then it got... longer. Enjoy!!

...

The doors opened for Maddie Fenton with a pneumatic hiss. Pressurized nitrogen released, splitting open the vacuum seal on the door as its twin halves slid apart, slotting into the wall-mounted sleeves. The nitrogen misted out, cold and dry, air currents catching in swirls around Maddie Fenton’s lab coat. Her feet thocked against hollow metal, amplified by the coldness and the vastness of the containment room beyond.

She paused short of the specimen’s cell, mindful attention drawn to the panel of controls nested rightmost against the wall. The monitor read out stats, tracked metrics of the specimen’s heartrate and blood oxygenation and blood pressure. Dials beneath the screens offered her means of interaction, manipulating the cage’s environment without needing to tamper with it by hand. She ignored these, as she had been ignoring them the entire time, and paid mind only to the single switch which would seal shut the doors behind her.

She pressed it. Another pneumatic hiss followed, locking out the world behind her. Her breath curled, cold. She and the specimen were alone.

“No coffee this morning?” he asked.

Maddie sat down at the control panel, elbow leaning against the dashboard for support. She turned to the cage. “No. One of the interns broke the pot last night. New one should be delivered today.”

Phantom let out a huff of air. “You mean in this whole gigantic mega-hyper-futuristic government lab, there’s nothing that can stand in as a coffee pot?”

“I wouldn’t stay employed long if I tried using equipment to brew coffee.”

“Use one of the big ectoplasm beakers. Ectoplasm washes out with soap and water. Just suds it up and throw it in the coffee maker. I’m an expert about these things.”

“It’s more about protocol.”

Phantom waved her off. “’Protocol.’ Bureaucracy is standing between you and a delicious cup of ectoplasmic coffee, Dr. Fenton.”

Maddie looked forward now, taking him in. He’d hovered to the front of the cell, translucent reinforced glass separating him from the rest of the lab. Green eyes shined above a cheeky smile, a dusting of loose white hairs falling over his eyes, the rest of his bangs swept slightly to the side. His tailed flickered, his aura pulsed, his vital readings blipped out steady, normal, healthy.

“Phantom?”

“Yeah?”

Maddie paused.

“Why are you still here?”

The ghost boy let out a small guffaw. He motioned his arms around him, hands waving. “I dunno. Maybe the big ghost-proof box I’m in has something to do with it?”

“The shield is down, Phantom,” Maddie answered quietly. She set her eyes to Phantom, investigating. “…I put it down last night. It’s down now. You knew this.”

Phantom took just a moment too long to react, eyebrows arching up. “Oh, huh! Nope I didn’t notice. I mean it’s not like I’m constantly throwing myself at the barrier to electrocute myself so no I just didn’t try getting past it last night so I didn’t notice.”

“Phantom,” Maddie said again, voice measured, words stern. “You saw me crank down the dial that controls the shield.”

“Well I don’t know what all those buttons and dials do.”

“Yes you do. You’ve been observing me since day 1. You knew.”

Phantom kicked back in the air, floating a fraction back and higher. “Well maybe I thought it was a trap, I dunno. Or maybe I just like to get in your head, you know? What unpredictable thing will Phantom do next! Gotta write another 200 equations about ghost theory to figure that one out, Dr. Fenton.”

“Phantom.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you not want to leave?”

“Oh I wanna leave.”

“Then why aren’t you?”

“We’re having a conversation. That’d be rude.”

“Will you leave as soon as I exit the room?”

“Who knows?”

“Phantom.”

“Yeah?”

Maddie stood. She left her chair and the control panel behind. She walked up to the specimen cage instead. It was cubic, a skeleton of metal bar ribbings with a metal mesh that plastered the glass sides like a membrane. The top anchored to the ceiling, the bottom—raised by about a foot—anchored to a pedestal on the floor. Maddie stared through the mesh into Phantom’s eyes.

“Is there anyone who realizes you’re missing?” she asked.

Phantom chewed on the question. “Nah. Well um, trick question, actually. Probably not. Assuming I do this right, then no one has even realized I’m gone.”

“Do what ‘right’?”

“You know that thing about Clockwork I explained?”

“You said he’s the ghost that controls time and reality.”

“Yeah. SUPER powerful.”

“And you said you …were from one of those other realities.”

Phantom nodded. “Maybe I touched some things in Clockwork’s lair I wasn’t actually allowed to touch. Jury’s still out on whether I’m in trouble for that or not. I’ve been a little too ‘stuck in this reality’ to know if Clockwork is pissed. But yeah, I got um, bopped into your reality instead of mine. So technically my reality is lacking me right now, and yeah there’s people there who’d know I’m missing.”

Phantom flipped upside-down, as though laying on his back. He rested his palms beneath his head, elbows out, suspended in an invisible hammock, head tilted far back so that he still stared at Maddie. “Especially since it’s been, what, a month that I’ve been gone?”

“2 weeks.”

“What? No way. I’ve been here absolutely forever it has to have been at least a month.”

“This is day 14 of your observation, Phantom.”

Phantom blew a strand of hair out of his face. “Anyway. Two weeks is still long enough to have a search party out on my butt. But whether or not that’s happened is up to – it’s kind of a Schrodinger thing. Because here’s my strategy. Assuming Clockwork hasn’t banned me from reality-hopping forever, I can just get him to send me back to my own reality at the precise moment in time I vanished. And then bam, no one ever knows I was gone. And it makes no difference whether I do that today, or next week, or next month. So assuming you eventually let me go, then I’m all set there.”

“You say that almost like you don’t care when it happens.”

“I dunno, more like I’m just not losing sleep over it. It’s not like I have a say in the matter. You do. I don’t.”

“Is the time you spend here just meaningless, to you?”

“I wouldn’t say meaningless. I’m still aging goddammit.”

“You’re a ghost.”

“I’m complex.” Phantom flipped right-side-up again. “If I start growing facial hair, send me back. I’m gonna have some awkward questions to answer if I show up again with a ghost beard suddenly.”

“…And what if I never send you back?” Maddie asked, careful with her words. “How does your plan work if you stay here forever? If I destroy you first?”

“Um. …It doesn’t, I guess.” Phantom set a hand to his chin, thinking. “Yeah um, please don’t do that. I don’t wanna worry my whole family like that.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“What part?”

“That you have a family.”

“I mean. I think that came up in Interrogation Session #3. Consult your notes.”

“I just have a hard time believing you.”

“Because I’m a ghost?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a complex ghost.”

“I know. You keep saying that.”

“It’s true.”

Silence filtered in between them.

“…What is your family like, Phantom?”

Phantom stiffened a fraction, his eyes finding Maddie’s and shifting away. “Oh, you know, family.”

“Do they exist here too?”

“Huh?”

“You’re from another reality, at least you’re claiming you are.”

“I gotta be. The me from this reality died 6 months ago, didn’t he?”

“The you from most realities is dead, Phantom. You’re a ghost.”

“A complex ghost.”

“The you from this reality was destroyed 6 months ago.”

“Which you validated with your own sciencey equipment, right? You said so! So you know I’m not lying. Unless you think I recombobulated myself from being a protoplasmic smear on the sidewalk.” Phantom caught himself, registering the flinch in Maddie’s body. He deflated a bit, eyes averted. “S-sorry. Inconsiderate phrasing.”

“Why?” Maddie asked, tone flat, blunt.

Phantom’s eyes shifted back. “Um. Just. You know. That accident was. There were um, you know—”

“Human causalities.”

Phantom squirmed. “We don’t have to talk about that, you know? No one wants to talk about that. Okay as a ghost I guess ‘talking about how I died’ is sort of a bit more normal, but this is weird yeah, ‘talking about how an alternate-me died permanently’? That’s morbid. No one wants to talk about that.”

“Okay then. You can go back to answering my previous question.”

“Um. I forget.”

“Does your family exist in this reality?”

“Um, well who really knows, you know? I had like a grand total of 20 minutes of freedom in this reality before you captured me, so, don’t ask me like I’m any kind of expert about your reality. What’s it matter?”

“I want to know if there’s anyone in this reality who’s mourning you.”

Phantom’s face schismed with surprise. His front dropped, and the first look of genuine emotion sank into his glowing eyes. “Woah… That’s um, weirdly nice, of you, I guess. Why do you… want to know?”

Maddie said nothing.

“I. Um. I think the answer is no? So don’t um. Worry about that. If you were worried? Which is weird. I’m the enemy, aren’t I? Evil spooky ghost to be studied?”

“I’m not so sure what you are…” Maddie answered. “I heard you got destroyed trying to save them.”

“The um… the human casualties?”

“Yes.”

“I said we don’t have to talk about that.”

“Phantom.”

“What?”

“Do you know who they were?”

“The… casualties?”

“Yes.”

“Come on we’re on a different topic now.”

“Do you know who they were?”

“I don’t—how’m I supposed to know? I don’t know how I died here, you know? You think I’ve got some kind of like… parallel-universe death vision?”

“So you don’t know?”

“N-no.”

“I have a different question, then.”

“Okay, good, because I haven’t been liking these previous ones.”

“Are you staying just to keep me company?”

Phantom faltered. He looked left, then right, hand scratching at his chin. “I’m staying because I’m in a ghost-proof box.”

“It’s not ghost-proof anymore. The shields are down.”

“I feel like you’re circling around some accusation I’m not smart enough to follow. This feels like entrapment.”

“Then I’ll be more direct.”

“Oh no there is an accusation.”

“I think you do know how you were destroyed in this universe, Phantom.” Maddie took a step forward, and she let her left hand touch the glass, eyes focused on her fingers. “I think you know what happened at the Nasty Burger.”

“That’s—um—the human food… consumption… location… that the local human adolescents meet at, yes?”

Maddie looked up, and she locked Phantom with her stare. He squirmed, and he relented.

“I um…” he continued. “I—yeah—yeah, okay? I know about the Nasty Burger accident. It was supposed to happen to me too in my reality but I—Clockwork—stopped it from happening in my reality.” Phantom glanced left, right, as if staring beyond the confines of his cage. “When I first got knocked into this reality, I went to go find the Fenton portal so I could try to refind Clockwork and fix this and… Well it wasn’t there. And I tried to find some people I know and… I checked out the library in case the Fentons just lived somewhere else and. I um. I found the articles.” His eyes focused on hers again. “They all say you were the only survivor, yeah…?”

“I was sick, that day. It was just a cold. My husband Jack went without me.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It took my daughter and my son too.”

“I’m so sorry…”

“And it destroyed you.”

Phantom opened his mouth, but no words followed.

Maddie looked up.

“You knew this. You’ve known this ever since I captured you.” Maddie let her hand slide away from the glass. “Did you let me capture you?”

“Why would I let you capture me?”

“Because you feel sorry for me.”

Phantom’s eyes flickered about, unwilling to meet hers. “…Nah. Nah. I don’t—come on ‘sorry’? I’m a ghost you know? Bane of humanity! We’re enemies. You were just too skilled a hunter and you captured me.”

“And yet you won’t leave.”

Phantom lapsed silent.

“I um… I wasn’t happy to read about—to know the, the thing at the Nasty Burger happened here, okay? That’s something that I kinda didn’t want to believe existed in any reality anymore, but I guess… And if you were still alive. I was… maybe just kind of happy to see you? That you were okay. And still hunting. That was kind of, like a small relief.” Phantom glanced away, back again. “I wasn’t evil, you know. In my reality or this one. I care about what happened to the Fentons…”

“You let me capture you. …And you did it because you thought it would be a nice thing for you to do for me.”

“I Just—I thought maybe, um… I mean when you phrase it like that. I mean what else could cheer up renowned ghost hunter Maddie Fenton quite like a ghost subject to study? Me, especially? The ghost boy or public enemy #1 or whatever. I’m fun, aren’t I?”

Silently, Maddie pushed away from Phantom’s cage. She moved to the control panel, stiff movements and numb fingers. She entered the release code into the console, and unslung the key from her neck to twist into the override, and she threw down each successive lever in the row of four lining the top of the mechanisms.

The scrape of glass sliding away sounded behind her. All four walls of Phantom’s enclosure dropped away, metal mesh sliding away piece-meal. Phantom stared at her, blinking, floating in place.

“You’re free to go, Phantom.”

“I—uh—well hang on, I don’t think the Guys In White would be too happy about that. You can’t just let me—”

“Go, Phantom.”

“They could like, fire you.”

“I don’t care about this job.”

“I—come on, you still wanna study me, don’t you? Chat with me? If you feel bad maybe just get me a couch and some video games for my cage then I’ll be—”

“Phantom.”

“What?”

“Go home to your family.”

The half-hearted smile dropped from Phantom’s face.

“Come on. You can’t just evict me on such short notice. I’m not ready for Clockwork to kick my ass so soon.”

“Go home.”

“I’m not in any rush! I like talking to you. Don’t you—don’t you like talking to me too? In like a scientific way?”

Maddie lowered herself into the chair by the control panel. She leaned forward, arms pooled in her lap, eyes to the floor. “You have a family to get back to, Phantom.”

“It’s—there’s time travel shenanigans! Like I said they don’t even know I’m gone.”

“Every single day, Phantom,” Maddie looked up, eyes stern, “…I wish every single day that my own family would just come back home. I won’t do the same to you. I won’t do the same to your family.”

Phantom said nothing. A somber acceptance sunk into his eyes.

“They’re… alive, you know. In my dimension.”

Maddie dropped her head, and she blinked away the wetness in her eyes.

“I actually… in my dimension I’m kind of closer to the Fentons than I think the, the Phantom in this dimension was. It’s… complex.”

Maddie said nothing. Silence built between them.

“Jazz is um… Jazz is applying for colleges, y-you know. She got in early-acceptance to Yale but um, we all—they all—visited Columbia last month and I think that’s what she wants the most. I can see Jazz in New York City. I think she’d rock it.”

Maddie blinked again. Tears plicked into her lap.

“…Should I stop?”

“Jack… Tell me about Jack.”

“Oh. Yeah he um… big and goofy as ever. He’s got some kind of eight-armed-octogun he’s working on. I know because I was his target practice, involuntarily by the way. He keeps trying to merge “Fenton” and “octopus” together with mixed results. We—Mo-addie—you… are still trying to talk him out of ‘Fentoctopus’.”

Maddie’s ribcage shuddered, a repressed sob, a repressed laugh.

“And Danny?”

“Danny… um… Danny is...” Phantom’s shoulders fell a little bit. He looked away, and then back at Maddie. “He loves you. I know that.”

Maddie blinked, and blinked again, and her eyes wouldn’t clear.

“And are they happy?”

“They’re happy.”

“Am I happy…?”

“You’re…” Phantom’s tail bounced. “You’re happy, I think. I like to think so. I think you’re very happy. You have a great family.”

Maddie nodded.

“Now go.”

“But I still—”

Maddie reached forward, and she grabbed the ecto-gun propped against the control panel. She lifted it into her shoulder, and flicked the safety, and the charge built along the rising whine.

“Go.”

Phantom balked. He blinked. He kicked away from his wall-less cage. “Not forever. I’ll be back. You won’t be alone here forever.”

He was gone.

And Maddie was alone again.

…

Clockwork surveyed the boy in front of him whose head was bowed nearly to the floor, white bangs trailing along cobblestone, hands clasped, apologies repeated, begging case made.

Clockwork ran a hand along his beard, which unfurled, drew back, undid itself with the shifting of his form to a simple child.

“So let’s see. You have the audacity to break my rules andbeg me to meddle on your behalf in the time stream, all in the same breath? Apologies don’t usually come with additional requests for favors.”

“I know,” Danny’s head dipped lower. “You can punish me however you want for touching the restricted timelines but you have to help it, or let me help this one timeline. Please, please just send me back to the Nasty Burger incident so I can save it.”

“It’s already been saved.”

Danny faltered. He looked up.

“You died at the Nasty Burger incident that night,” Clockwork elaborated, form shifting older. “There is no you to ruin that future. That timeline is safe. It’s a very lucky timeline.”

Danny blinked. “N-no. No that’s not what I mean. Save it like you saved my timeline.”

“That did happen. You’re describing your own timeline.”

“I mean do it to THAT one.”

“You are misunderstanding timelines.”

Danny lapsed silent. Worry bled into his eyes, and Clockwork sighed.

“There is no undoing timelines, Danny. There is only forking them by meddling in the stream. All futures and pasts you witness exist, and do exist, and continue to exist,” Clockwork paused, “with the exception of realities I needed to cull, to prevent utter catastrophe.” His gaze fixed on Danny. “The futures that your evil self destroyed, I did have to cull. And culling a reality is not to be done lightly.”

Clockwork motioned with his staff. “There were a handful of surviving realities that I was able to save. That room you meddled in without my permission—they contain the realities off the main track where, for one reason or another, something else succeeded at destroying your future self. …Your own deaths, in fact. In every one of those realities, Danny, you are dead.”

“I don’t…” Danny shook his head. “So then just tell me how to save that one I was in, okay?”

“Oh, that’s easy.”

“How?”

“You don’t.”

Danny said nothing. Clockwork shifted young.

“You can let it live on in that room, or you could ask me to cull it, Danny. You could ask me to cull every reality in that room, so that the main branch, the one you’re from, is the only reality in existence. So you never have to worry about any existence where your family is unhappy. And it will be that way until you, or I, or someone else, meddles with the timestreams again, and more splits occur.”

Still, Danny said nothing. Clockwork continued.

“Sometimes, a mass culling of realities is healthy for the tree of time, like pruning a plant down to its stalk to survive an unforgiving winter, or a terrible disease. But I did that, just recently, to save all of time from the blight of your future self. It would feel cruel to snip off the first buds that have come after the frost.”

Danny lowered himself to the floor.

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay. Just. I have a different question then.” He looked up, a young devastation wet in his eyes. “Can I still go back and visit that reality, sometimes?”

“No. I cannot give you permission to do that.”

“Please!”

Clockwork spun his staff. A portal swirled into being in the space between him and Danny. Washes of color formed patterns, shapes, objects, images. Like a mirror, it reflected Clockwork’s lair beyond its shimmering surface.

“This is a portal back into your own reality. It is set to the location and the time that you vanished. Go there, and leave through the Fenton portal, and nothing will be amiss.”

“No. No no I won’t. Clockwork you have to let me—”

“I am doing you a favor, Danny, getting you home after you caused more trouble. Do not make further demands of me.” Clockwork curled forward, old, sallow skin sagging, and he turned his back to Danny.

“You have to give me permission—”

“I am the only one who has permission to meddle in realities, Danny. This is an absolute.” Clockwork glanced over his shoulder. “And because this is an absolute, I have no reason to have a lock on the room housing those budding other realities.”

Danny blinked.

“I wonder if anyone might break my rules anyway. I wonder if anyone might be nosy, and enter that room anyway, and water the plants in that greenhouse without my permission.” Clockwork stared forward again.

“Clockwork…”

“Luckily I am the master of all time. I would be able to see this coming. And maybe plan for it. If ever such a person would come into my lair, and meddle in my timelines, and try to spread a bit of his own kindness to the realities he couldn’t quite save, I would be fully prepared to stop him.” Clockwork spoke into the green abyss beyond him. “Unless, maybe, I were to accidentally have my back turned.”

Silence trailed after Clockwork’s words. He kept his back to Danny, staring into the abyss of swirling green ether beyond.

“…Thank you,” Danny answered, quietly. “I’ll be back.”

“I imagine you will. Those realities may get lonely without you.”

When Clockwork glanced back over his shoulder, both Danny and the portal were gone.

[starlightstevie]

fic recs / may 2021

Happy summer! I know I missed last month’s fic recs so hopefully I’ll make up for it with these brilliant fics. Hope you guys enjoy!

warm water by @xbuchananbarnes​ Thor x reader: Thor comes home to find his love.

*passionate & burning by @peachyteabuck Thor x reader: You’re busy with working from home, but Thor has other plans for the day.

but i just wanna hear your voice by @blackberrybucky Thor x reader: Thor comes back after they defeat Thanos and tries to make things right with you.

*all there’s left to do is run by spacelabrathor Dothraki!Thor x reader: Horse warlord Thor finds you a captive in a raid of a desert village and gives you a choice. Freedom by a quick death or taking his hand and going with him, to be his. You choose life, and with it, a husband who is wild and fierce and more than you could have ever imagined.

*summoned by @darklydeliciousdesires​ Old God!Thor x villager!reader: The buffet of offerings, all of which shall placate, appease and satiate every whim and desire of the gods is laid out and ready, you amongst them.

ships in the night by @sugardaddytonystark Pirate King!Thor x Dora Milaje mermaid!reader: When Thor, the infamous Pirate King, lays down anchor in Wakanda, the last thing you expect is for him to ask for aid from your own king. You volunteer your assistance, leaving the home you’ve always known to set sail with King Odinson and his crew.

*cut offs by @milaonthemoon Frank x reader: You get kidnapped and Frank has to get you out.

tired by @castawaybarnes​ Frank x reader: Keeping yourself awake waiting for Frank was getting easier once you got used to the bitterness of black coffee.

*ash painted lips by @sebbytrash Frank x reader: Frank is your lifeline, protecting you like only he can do but you harbour not-so-secret feelings for him that threaten to shake the foundation of this steady, necessary partnership.

scales of justice weigh the consequence by @inspiresimagine​ Frank x reader: the world is black and white until you find your soulmate. you’re a single mom in NYC accustomed to life as-is, but apparently, the universe has other plans. namely? frank castle.

*generosity by @pumpkin-stars Frank x reader: AKA: The five (or more) things Frank usually does when he fucks you, and the one time he does something different.

poltergeists for sidekicks by @bubble-tea-bunny​ Frank x reader: Frank’s lost count of the days he’s come home to you already fast asleep.

*frank + overstimulation by @honeychicana

*frank + rough sex by @sweeterthanthis​

*frank + breath play by sweeterthanthis

*frank + doggy style by @honeydulcewrites​

*frank + gun play by honeydulcewrites

*frank + gun play (2) by honeydulcewrites

*frank + gun play (3) by honeydulcewrites

*frank + overstimulation by honeydulcewrites

*frank coming home to you by honeydulcewrites

*untitled frank smut by @luciilferss​

*playing with frank’s hair by inspiresimagine

frank + praise by inspiresimagine

*frank putting you in a headlock while fucking you by @punani​

*nobody else but me by @allaboardthereadingrailroad​ Shane Walsh x reader: Shane knows exactly what you need.

the comet by @mcubabydotcom​ Steve x reader: You and Steve witness a once-in-a-lifetime celestial event.

*the punishment by ozarkthedog Nomad!Steve x reader: You disobeyed Steve and now you must make it up to him.

*headinthequinjet by xbuchananbarnes Steve x reader: Steve’s having a hard time breathing.

*shotgunning with chris by ozarkthedog

*cockwarming with chris by @buckyssimp​

*a teal crushed velvet ride by @ozarkthedog​ Chris x reader: You love Chris’s Teal Velvet Pants. He notices and decides to indulge you.

*don’t look away by ozarkthedog Chris x reader: Chris fucks you against a mirror.

*keep the heat by ozarkthedog Andy Barber x reader: Andy fucks you in the coat.

*i don’t work jobs (i am a job) by @peachyteabuck Andy x reader: Andy needs to teach you that “staying at home” doesn’t preclude a little thing called “work.”

*worst behaviour by buckyssimp Professor!Bucky x reader: Bucky notices you staring at him during class. 

*lipstick stain by @xbuchananbarnes​ Bucky x reader: Bucky could recognize that laugh anywhere.

bucky takes care of you by @buckyblues

*you better act like this dick belongs to you by buckyblues

*lazy day with bucky by buckyblues

*pegging bucky by buckyblues

*bucky tit fucking you by buckyblues

something new by @mxsamwilson​ Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes: Fellas is it gay to receive an intimate haircut from your boy? (ft Bucky being hopelessly in love with Sam but too much of an idiot to tell him).

*the magic word by @whateveriwant Bucky x reader: Bucky agrees to try something you’ve always wanted to do with him, but only under the condition that a certain word be employed if need be.

warm by @revengingbarnes​ Bucky x reader: “The fire alarm in our building went off and you rushed out without a coat. Wanna share my blanket?”

patterns by @xbuchananbarnes Bucky x reader: Bucky plays with your hair.

pretending to not feel alone by blackberrybucky Bucky x reader: Bucky, hopeless romantic, meets you, committed cynic. What could go wrong?

*bucky’s first time in 70 years by @luciilferss

*fluorescent adolescent by @ohbuckie​ College!Bucky x reader: Bucky fucks you on his bedroom floor.

*it’s a cruel summer by blackberrybucky Bucky x reader: You and Bucky are friends with benefits, but what happens when you realize you want more?

*sex on legs by @navybrat817​ Bucky x reader: Bucky looks good in anything.

ride with me by @jurassicbarnes Detective!Bucky x Biker!reader: When his best friend forces him to third wheel on a road trip, Bucky doesn’t expect for it to become so eventful, let alone find something, or rather someone worth staying for.

*going live by @ritesofreverie​ Camboy!Bucky x reader: Your new neighbour looks familiar, where had you seen him before?

*stranded by @honeysucklesteve Dad’s best friend!Bucky x reader: When your car breaks down on the side of the road and your dad can’t come rescue you, he sends the next best thing.

if i could fly, i’d be coming right back home to you by blackberrybucky Sam x reader: Exile over, Sam comes home to you.

baby, i still see ya by blackberrybucky Sam x reader: Sam comes home, the future calling to him. He sees you again, and gets a little caught up in the past

*if you ever want to be in love by blackberrybucky Sam x reader: How your relationship with Sam falls apart and comes back together.

taller than me by @kaitsukibakugo Katsuki Bakugo x Izuku Midoriya: Katsuki has found love with someone who years ago he never would have expected. Now Deku is his husband and he’s noticed something else he never thought possible: Deku is taller than him.

*would you like to stay forever? by kaitsukibakugo Pro Hero!Kirishima Eijiro x reader: Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

how your bnha fave acts when they realize they’re in love by @inthorantine

*bnha love island headcannons by @doinmybesthere​

*first time bj headcannons by @shoutogepi

*the best pussy eater of mha by @dearestdynamight​

passing the night stars by @hoe-doroki Hitoshi Shinsou x reader: The party was neon and you needed darkness.

*let’s talk about deku’s hands by @rat-suki​

*waking up deku by spacelabrathor

*deku comes home after a late shift by doinmybesthere

*slow stroke king izuku by @sems-diarie​​

*champagne problems by @some-kindofgnome​ Katsuki Bakugou x reader: You were slipping between Bakugou’s fingers faster than ever now. Instead of letting it happen he clung to you even tighter. Instead of letting you go, instead of accepting that he’d driven this relationship into the fucking ground, he’d promised himself that he could still save it.

*presented by @tteokdoroki​ Dragon King!Katsuki x reader: On the twenty-first birthday of Katsuki Bakugou, an offering is made in his honour as he becomes chief of the dragons. Clans usually offer up sacrifices of berries or nuts, salts and fresh catches. But for those of Dargon’s blood, their offering is a mate... And that mate is you.

*domina by rat-suki Katsuki x reader: He’s just so hot when you get under his skin. You can’t possibly stop now.

*baby, i’m a haunted house by @ketslketslketsl​ Yakuza!Katsuki x reader: It’s been a long six months since you last saw him.

i’m a liability, get you wild, make you leave (i’m a little much for everyone) by @willowser Katsuki x reader: There’s no reason for Katsuki to be here. It’s all he can think, bitter, as he stares at the paint peeling from the door, exposing the wood grain underneath its thin coat. Old and distant, this house; too far from the city to make the trek worth it, for your job to make sense; too ancient to be lived in by the number 12 hero in Japan. If he closes his eyes, he can hear Lake Biwa from his position on your porch and the soft sway of the water almost calms down the storm that’s been building in him since he boarded the train, since he nearly snapped his phone in half.

*we are the foxes (and we run) by @spacelabrathor shoyo hinata x reader: After everything, the end of the world and the chaos and destruction that reigned after society fell, it takes a lot to surprise you. And yet, when you come to the edge of the pit, a gasp wrenches from you like someone gripped it in their fist and yanked. Laid out on the bed of leaves at the bottom of the pit is...something. Someone. Or, Hinata falls into reader’s pit trap after the end of the world. This is the story of how she pulls him out, drags him to her bunker, and they grow together. 

*dark priest!Obiwan Kenobi by @mandosmimi​

you’re the former babysitter of zemo’s son by @helahades​

*mando doesn’t realize how big his dick is by @cptnbvcks​​

[someonestolemyshoes]

So... during the time skip, Hange is on a business trip to Marley. Levi stays home to deal with some installation or important project for Hange, gets injured in some stupid way, falls off scaffolding or something. And he doesnt think too much of it because it's such a stupid way to get injured. And he hides it even when it gets worse and Hange is the only one who notices because she knows him so well. BUT when she gets back, it gets worse. And Levi hates hospitals so Hange forces him to go <3

Hello! Thank you so much for the prompt :) I’m not super thrilled with the way this one turned out, but I had a lot of fun anyway, and I hope you enjoy it! Angst ahead, if that’s not your thing. 

(Drinking game: take a shot every time Levi says he’s fine) 

Levi was no stranger to pain. While he had been luckier than most, Levi had sustained his fair share of injuries. Bruises and breaks were commonplace. Pain became easier to handle, wounds less debilitating to endure.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

**

It wasn't a particularly bad accident, but it was a particularly stupid one.

Hange had been tied up in meetings for days, stuck inside Sina with other military personnel, with carnivorous media, with business moguls eager to ensure their pockets would be well lined by any negotiation plans with Marley and their neighbouring countries.

She had taken Armin and Jean alongside her; Armin had a mind with similar mechanics to her own, and as such he was best suited to help her formulate a compelling case with their higher ups, while Jean had attended at Levi’s insistence. Hange had already made it clear that, with Armin gone, they needed somebody to oversee continued construction on the railway line, and Levi, uneasy with the idea of Hange being without an attack dog, had demanded Kirstein attend in his place. The brat was becoming something of a budget Moblit, always trailing after Hange whenever she was around—Levi thought he looked a little pitiful, following her around like an eager puppy, but he supposed he was grateful for it now, if it meant he had no objections taking a trip into the interior with her.

Levi had been left with the rest of the brood. Eren and Mikasa worked diligently, though Eren—distant and despondent as he had been since the Queen’s address after Shiganshina—remained sullen, while Mikasa alternated between shooting Eren looks of concern, and staring scathingly at Levi whenever he came into view. She tolerated him far better, these days, but Levi was unsure she’d ever fully forgive him for his public display at Eren’s trial.

No matter. She did as she was told, reluctantly as may be. Connie and Sasha, on the other hand, were proving problematic.

They lacked focus. The four of them were working on construction of a rail house near the coast, somewhere to store equipment for maintenance, with a few flat beds for workers to rest in between commutes. The walls were coming along, but the space was still lacking a proper roof, covered only by tarp to keep the metal beams and frames inside from rusting before they could be treated and on the tracks. Eren and Mikasa were working quietly on one side, while Connie and Sasha were goofing off on the other.

Levi clicked his tongue. The work was, in theory, far less hazardous than slaying titans had ever been, but they were still a couple of stories in the air on flimsily constructed scaffolding, without any gear to catch them if they fell. The drop wasn’t deadly in itself, but the inside of the half-built hut was full of great mounds of metal, beams and poles and wires covered only by papery thin sheets. A fall onto that, from this height, would result in breaks and bruises at best. 

"Oi,” Levi called, making his way around the rickety structure. Connie and Sasha either did not hear him, or chose to ignore him. That had been happening upsettingly often, of late; whatever intimidation tactic Levi had employed when they were still bratty kids had lost its effect. Connie teetered around Sasha as she tried to smear mortar on his cheek, edging along the scaffolding on only his toes until he made his way around her. Levi picked up his pace and called again, more of a snarl this time, a warning, but Sasha let out a shriek of delighted laughter as she managed to slap a trowel full of mortar on the top of Connie’s head. Neither of them heard him.

“You fall and break your necks and Hange will kill me,” Levi said. Sasha twisted to look at him but offered only a smile. Levi was within feet of them, when Connie moved quickly behind Sasha—he was doing nothing suspicious that Levi could see, but Sasha, awaiting retaliation, tried to scurry hurriedly away. Her foot missed the edge of the scaffolding, and there was a fraction of a second in which her eyes widened, body tilting, before Levi moved.

His hand closed around her wrist. With a sharp tug, he jerked her back onto the safety of the scaffolding, but in his rush to grab her he hadn’t the time to brace himself—with his weight unbalanced, the force of his pull sent his body careening forward, tipping over the edge of the plank.

He barely managed to release his grip on Sasha before he lurched over the edge.

Levi was no stranger to pain. While he had been luckier than most, Levi had sustained his fair share of injuries. Bruises and breaks were commonplace. Pain became easier to handle, wounds less debilitating to endure.

It didn’t make them hurt any less.

Levi hit the beams with a resounding clatter. Metal clanged and wood splintered, dust gathering in great plumes as Levi hit the tarp. The beams, built with enough strength to hold steam engines, had no give to them—Levi struck one solidly with his side and his body bowed around it. Something—his ribs, his spine—crunched on impact. The sudden stop made his neck whip down, temple cracking hard against the stone floor.

Every last drop of air punched out of his lungs and a white, dizzying pain exploded in his head. He slumped the rest of the way to the ground, gasping fruitlessly, but his chest, all empty, crushing pressure, would not expand, would not allow for a single wheezing breath.

He lay in a heap on the cold stone. Dimly, he could hear voices, the clatter of feet on wooden planks and the echo of sturdy shoes on the scaffold poles as the kids clambered their way down to him, but everything sounded muffled and distant, warbled by the pound of his pulse and the rush of blood in his ears. He blinked rapidly, squeezed his eyes closed to push the fuzziness from the edges of his vision, then gathered himself slowly, shifting to lay on his back. His every muscle felt tight, seizing from the shock of the impact and sharp, stabbing pain, but despite the tension, something in his side felt loose. He sucked in a few small breaths, pausing at every spike of pain before trying again, and then he pushed himself up to sit. His head felt thick and full, stuffy, too heavy for his neck to hold up. It throbbed with the change of position, a crack of pain so sudden he thought his skull might split in two. He resisted the urge to grab at it as the kids’ footsteps sounded close by, several sets of feet scuffing and clicking against the stone.

Levi pre-empted their concern with a wheezy, “I’m fine,” as Mikasa, followed swiftly by the others, rounded the corner and stopped short of him. “Get back to work.”

None of them moved. Levi focused his swimming gaze on them as well as he could, attempting a glare, but the corner of his eye and the side of his face felt fat, skin tight over the rapidly swollen flesh, and his breathing was tight, uneven, chest jerking with each attempt to fill his empty lungs. Nobody looked intimidated by the sight of him—in fact, all four of the little brats looked almost frightened.

“Captain…” Eren said. Levi scowled, fought not to wince.

“I’m fine.” Gritting his teeth to muffle each pained grunt, Levi grabbed a nearby beam and used it to drag himself up to his feet. His head spun, the ache intensifying to something almost unbearable, and that, coupled with the sickening grinding sensation in his side as he straightened up, was enough to make him sway on the spot. Mikasa was the first to step forward, hovering awkwardly. Levi suppressed the manic urge to laugh—there was some irony somewhere in Mikasa, grudge so steadfastly held, being the one ready to catch him if he fell. Levi shooed her away. His chest ached something terrible, a persistent, resounding swell behind his rib cage. It should be impossible to feel so full, so bloated, yet so empty at the same time.

“You should rest a little more,” Eren said, at the same time Sasha erupted with a wailed apology. Connie looked pale and guilty behind her.

“Hange wants this—shitty thing—finished, by the time—she gets back.” Levi hitched stilted breaths as he spoke. He took a careful step forward. His side screamed, and his head pounded, but he remained upright, which was good enough. He passed by Connie and Sasha, who both looked ashen-faced, and clicked his tongue against his teeth. They’re too tall now, so tall he almost lost his precarious balance when he stretched up to pat them both roughly on the head. Then he brushed past them with as much ease as he could manage.

“Hurry up. The damn walls won’t build themselves.”

**

Levi had expected to be better by the time Hange returned.

The pain had not subsided at all in the three days that passed between the injury and Hange’s arrival—if anything, it had intensified, and Levi’s bouts of dizziness and breathlessness were near constant. He hid it as well as he could from the others, compensating with vicious scowls and quick, barked instructions, but he couldn’t escape their concerned glances.

The building, at least, was almost complete. They had laid the rafters for the roof the day before, and were hammering on the felt when Hange, Armin, and Jean appeared in the distance.

The weather was blisteringly hot. Eren and Connie had removed their shirts long ago, while Sasha and Mikasa had tried fruitlessly to keep their hair off the base of their necks and out of their faces. Despite his lack of manual labour Levi was just as sweaty as the rest of them, though his skin was pale in comparison. He had argued, albeit rather feebly, to do his part in aiding the construction, but the damn brats had put their foot down on that, at least—as such, Levi had spent the last three days sitting beneath the shade, glumly watching their progress.

He stood when he saw the horses approaching. The others climbed down from the scaffolding, wiping sweat from their hands and faces. They cast Levi a sidelong look, and he glared in return.

“Not a word,” he reminded them coldly. Levi had already demanded that they keep the details of his incident quiet. The swelling on his face had gone down some with the aid of a bag filled with cold sea water, but the bruises were persistent, mottled from his eye to his ear. He could play it off as a far smaller incident than it was, so long as he could keep the ugly welt on his torso well hidden. The bruising there was dark, a deep, violent shade of purple, wrapping around his side and bubbling out over his back.

Eren looked uncertain. Mikasa gave him a stoic, level look, while Sasha and Connie still looked sheepish, avoiding his gaze. They had apologised profusely, and on multiple occasions,  for causing such a mess. Levi had, at their insistence, scolded them for messing around, but in truth he had little energy left to care.

Hange waved as soon as they were close enough. She kicked her horse on, Jean and Armin following dutifully behind her. The three of them pulled to a stop and dismounted, leading their horses to shade and water, looking tired, but satisfied. Levi kept his angled down, twisted to one side. He was prolonging the inevitable, he knew, but if he could get Hange talking about the meetings, or with some luck the upcoming expedition, or maybe even the mostly completed rail house, Levi could at least wait until they were alone before Hange battered him with questions.

All three of them had dark circles under their eyes. Armin yawned widely, he and Jean bumping into one another as they walked. Hange, as tired as she looked, strode forward with a delighted confidence—Levi, in spite of himself, quirked his lip in a small smile. It has been too long since Hange looked excited about anything. The prospect of an expedition had breathed some life into her.

“We’ve still got to work out some kinks,” Hange said, “but things are looking good. We’ll set up another meeting with Kiyomi. It might take a little while, but we’ll get out there ourselves. See the world with our own eyes, and—more importantly—let them see us.”

Connie and Sasha exchanged excited glances. Mikasa and Eren shared a more subdued look. Levi understood both perspectives—the prospect of venturing out into the world opened them up to a lot of risks. Each of them carried targets on their backs. One wrong move, and they would be in trouble. But, if all goes according to Hange’s plan, there would be plenty of reward. Freedom was worth any price they could pay, if only they can secure it.

Levi listened as the group reacquainted. Eren and Mikasa seemed pleased to have Armin back in their company, while Sasha hounded Jean endlessly until he relented, and surreptitiously pulled a small pack of cured meat from the inside pocket of his jacket. He had the decency to look embarrassed when he caught Levi’s eye on him, but his abashed expression quickly turned to one of confusion when he caught a good look at Levi’s face.

“The hell happened, Captain?”

Hange, who had been quietly engaged with Armin and the other two, looked around. Levi tutted and curled his lip, letting his fringe fall to cover part of his bruised brow.

“None of your business,” he said. His chest spasmed and he clenched his teeth, fighting the sudden urge to cough. “If you’ve still got the energy to stand around talking, you can get up there and help them finish the damn roof.”

Jean, who either hadn’t quite developed the same immunity to Levi’s brash tone as the rest, or was nervous about Levi scolding him for stealing food from the interior, nodded once and shrugged out of his jacket. Sasha’s eyes followed longingly as he hooked it over the nearby cart sitting on the tracks, but then her gaze shot back to Levi, and she scurried after Jean towards the rail house.

The others followed. Hange’s eye was still on him, and she waited until the group had scrambled up onto the scaffolding and picked up their tools before she crossed over to him. She bent a little, tilting her head to get a good look at his face. Hange let out a low whistle.

“Quite the bruise,” she said. Levi gave her a somewhat guarded look, and carefully shrugged one of his shoulders.

“Brats were messing around,” Levi said simply. “Caught me with a stray elbow.”

He didn’t dare look Hange in the eye long enough to determine whether she believed him. He nodded towards the rail house and said, “They’ll be done in a few hours.”

Hange beamed, bracing her hands on her hips. “They’ve made good progress! I wasn’t sure they’d get it finished by the time we made it back.”

“You wanted it finished,” Levi scowled, “those were your orders.”

“Calling it an order is a little harsh, Levi.”

“You’re our commander, Hange,” Levi said. “You tell us to do something, we do it. By definition, it is an order.”

Hange grimaced. It had been years since Shiganshina, years for Hange to come to grips with the position that had befallen her, and to her credit she had taken to it admirably enough, on the outside. It was only in small, private moments like this that she allowed herself to show doubt. The lack of cooperation from Hizuru had been a blow Hange had expected, but hoped to avoid—she had worked hard on her proposals and her negotiations had been sound, but the rejection stung nonetheless. With each new trial and each new error, Hange felt herself all the more lacking. Her distaste for her own position, for Erwin’s faith, grew stronger, and showed face more often.

Levi took in her sullen expression and winced internally. After a moment of heavy silence, he said, “They give you a hard time?”

“Who?”

“Zackley. The reporters. The kids.”

Hange let out a low chuckle. “Zackley’s as rigorous as ever. Picked apart every last thing we had to say, highlighted every possible flaw in the plan. Made us work hard, as usual. The reporters...asked a lot of questions we didn’t have answers to. They’ll smear our names in the papers tomorrow, no doubt, but it can’t be helped. We did our best. Armin was a huge help, though. He’s still a little nervous, but—so clever! So full of interesting ideas, and he negotiates well. He’ll make a good commander one day.”

“And Kirstein?”

“He’s an excellent paperweight,” Hange said, shooting Levi a sideways grin. “I appreciated the company, but I think we would have been fine without him.”

“Never know,” Levi said gruffly. He couldn’t be sure whether it was the heat of the sun or simply standing too long, but Levi was beginning to feel woozy. Breathing was still a chore, a concentrated effort to suck air into his aching chest and let it out again without choking, coughing, and more often than not he felt lightheaded. He nodded towards the boxes he’d been using as a seat over the last couple of days. “Sit. You look like shit.”

“For once, I don’t think you get to judge me for that.”

Levi had already begun walking stiffly to the boxes, and made no comment. He had no valid argument to give—he did look like shit, far worse than Hange, and he felt even shittier. He dropped a little heavily onto the box and bit back a grunt of pain.

Hange sat next to him. The box shuddered. Levi tensed as pain lanced through his side. He took in a quick, sharp breath, holding it high in his chest when the pain intensified. He could feel Hange’s eye on him and clenched his teeth, fighting to keep his face somewhat neutral.

“You sure you’re okay?” Hange said to him. Levi grunted. He busied himself taking slow, shallow breaths, staring resolutely ahead, avoiding Hange’s keen stare. “You look a little clammy.”

Levi made another quiet noise. Levi wasn’t very talkative at the best of times—this, he knew Hange was aware of, and most of the time Hange was content to fill the silence herself, but today she was quiet, and watching him too closely. Scrutinizing. Levi had often praised Hange for her powers of observation—she had an incredible eye for detail and a knack for spotting patterns and anomalies, a talent which had served the Survey Corps very well, but right now, Levi was cursing it. He didn’t need Hange surveying him.

He was hurting. He’d had a near constant headache since the incident, and his chest felt tight, riddled with pain both dull and sharp, stabbing whenever he breathed too deeply or gave in to the pressing urge to hack out a cough, but more than that, he felt unwell. Groggy, sickly, light-headed. His heart beat frantically, and his skin did feel clammy, cold sweat sitting on his brow. He stared ahead, blinking the fuzziness from his head and resolutely ignoring Hange’s steady stare.

Hange’s palm pressed to his forehead. The sudden touch made him jump—his muscles tensed, his ribs screamed in protest, and Levi let out a strangled groan, biting his tongue a second too late to trap the sound.

He was barely aware of Hange’s fussing as he fought to draw breath. Air grated in his battered lungs as Hange’s hand pressed flat to the back of his neck, her voice warped and muffled in his ear as she felt his sweat-damp skin. His vision tunnelled. He blinked rapidly to clear the black spots and wheezed in the humid air. His chest felt like it might split open, pressure billowing out from behind his ribcage, pressing agonisingly against his damaged bones.

He breathed short and shallow until the haze of pain lessened. Hange’s voice was loud beside him, the sharp, deep bark she used when she felt it necessary to assert her authority. Through the fog in his head he could barely make out her words, but he knew exactly what it was she was demanding. Sasha’s voice was meek in comparison, but it still carried over the distance enough for Levi to hear her.

“It was an accident,” she was saying. “It was our fault—my fault—”

Levi hissed through his teeth. Hange’s hands—one still at the back of his neck, the other curled around his arm—tightened their grip on him.

“Drop it,” Levi said. “Stop grilling them. It doesn’t matter what happened, I’m fine.”

Hange had the audacity to laugh, but there was no humour in it. “Fine? Levi, you can’t even move. You can barely breathe! What the hell did you do?”

“Fell,” he said shortly. His voice sounded weak, but he didn’t have the breath to put more force behind it.

“From where? When? Hell, Levi, when did this happen?”

“Hange, leave it.”

Hange turned her question to the rail house, and Connie answered immediately. Traitors, Levi thought scathingly. Mikasa explained without prompt that they didn’t know the extent of his injuries, that Levi had refused a proper medical examination despite the head wound that had left him unable to stand straight. She explained that they had managed with very little effort to get him to observe the construction from the ground, which, it seemed, was enough to concern Hange—Levi wasn’t the type to sit around doing nothing. He despised being idle and she knew it.

“You should see a doctor, Levi.”

“I’m fine—”

“No, you’re not. What else did you hurt? Just your head?”

Levi felt ill. Hange’s persistent questions were making his head spin and his entire body felt sore and spent. He mustered enough strength to glare at her, but nothing more. Hange was watching him carefully, brow furrowed in concern, but at his silence her expression hardened, and she stood abruptly. Levi bit back another groan as the box moved beneath him.

“You can ride, then?”

Levi squinted up at her. “Hah?”

“If you’re fine, you can ride back into town with me.”

No. “Sure.”

Hange stared at him a little longer, waiting, no doubt, for him to backtrack, admit defeat. Levi clenched his jaw and maintained steely eye contact. Hange narrowed her eye at him, then turned towards the rail house.

“Oi!” Hange called up, cupping a hand around her mouth. Six heads turned their way, popping up over the roof. “We’re heading back early. Leave the scaffolding when you’re done, we’ll send for it tomorrow. Good work!”

She turned on her heel and headed towards the horses, still tacked and tethered beneath the shade of a small copse of trees.

“We’ll go get your head checked.”

“Hange, I said I’m fine.” It was a weak argument, made even moreso when he stood too abruptly and swayed on the spot. Hange darted back towards him and steadied him with a hand on his shoulder, and a little of her angry resolve cracked, worry creasing her brow. She led him, more slowly now, towards the horses with her hand hovering over his back. He braced himself for the agony of her touch, if she pressed her palm against him, but Hange—perhaps in fear of not knowing what other injuries he had sustained—didn’t touch him.

“Humour me,” she said. “If you’re really fine, and it’s really nothing, no harm done. I’ll feel better knowing, and you—” she drew them to a stop by the horses and turned to face him fully, grinning, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “—you get to say I told you so.”

Levi said nothing. The thought of riding for hours on end made him feel nauseous.

“This is pointless,” he said. “I’ll rest here, if you’re so worried.”

Hange shook her head at him. She untied her own horse and Jean’s, holding the reins out for Levi to take.  

“We’re going back now, Captain. That’s an order.”

**  

An hour into the journey, Levi began to struggle in earnest.

No part of the ride had been pleasant—the heat was oppressive, and the motion of the horse required a fluidity in his hips and back that sent sharp jolts through his side with every step. Hange was uncharacteristically quiet, occupied instead by watching Levi from the corner of her eye. His head pounded with increasing intensity the longer they travelled, and between the pain, and the scorching sun, and his pitifully shallow breathing, Levi was feeling more faint by the second.

It was an unsettling sensation. Injuries were always difficult, but Levi had never felt so completely wiped out by physical damage in the past. Three days was enough time for his body to at least begin healing, but Levi had seen no improvement since the moment he struck the beam during his fall—if anything, he’d felt worse by the day.

Now, he was fighting to keep himself upright in the saddle.

They were approaching another clump of trees, great leaves wilting in the heat, when Levi, jaw tight and teeth bared, grunted out a request that they stop.

Hange looked torn. She wanted to hurry back into town, and was already impatient enough that Levi had requested they walk—”It’s too hot, for the horses”—but something on his face must have reflected the severity of his discomfort. Hange directed them to the treeline, dismounting and taking Levi’s reins while he did the same. His feet hit the ground and his knees buckled.

Hange caught him about the elbow but only after he had sunk to the grass. He felt shaky, weak, but more than that he felt vulnerable. Realistically, Levi knew that there was no shame in being hurt, in needing help, but he was a stranger to it. He had been self-sufficient since he was in Kenny’s care, and had grown up with the express understanding that showing weakness was a death sentence. And then again, in the Survey Corps—an injured soldier was titan bait.

There were no titans now, but Levi felt distinctly exposed, sitting in the long grass with his vision swimming and his lungs burning, barely functional.

Hange knelt next to him in the grass. She brought a hand up to his face, fingers curling against his jaw. Her gaze darted over his face, all of her righteous anger forgotten as she took in his state. Levi wanted to shake her off, to shake off the spinning in his head, to stand up and get back on the horse and continue their journey, but he couldn’t find the strength to gather his legs beneath him. Hange’s hands—one on his arm and one still on his face—kept him sitting upright.

“Levi…” Hange said slowly. Words sat on his tongue, reassurance that he was fucking fine, that he just needed a minute, but try as he might, he couldn’t get enough air in to voice them. His chest bubbled and rattled as he drew in a thin breath.

“Levi,” Hange said, sharper this time. Levi blinked blearily and searched for her. Neither of them were moving, but Hange’s image wavered and blurred in front of him. He swallowed. Wheezed. His heart hammered in his ears. Hange’s fingertips found the pulsepoint in his neck, pressing, counting. “Levi—what else hurts?”

Levi swallowed thickly, a nauseous tremor under his tongue. After a moment, he choked out, “cracked a few ribs, probably.”

Hange sucked in a sharp breath. “Let me see.”

He didn’t have the strength to fight her as Hange began unbuttoning his shit. He swayed where he sat, struggling to balance without her hands keeping him upright, until he heard Hange’s hiss as she uncovered the bruises wrapping his chest and back.

Levi looked down and grimaced. The bruising was worse than he remembered, stretching further up his chest, dark and mottled, the flesh tight and swollen.

“Levi, this is bad,” Hange said. “We need to get help.”

“Just need rest,” Levi said. His voice sounded slow and slurred in his own ears. Hange’s hand cupped the side of his neck, her thumb tipping his jaw up to look at his face. His eyelids felt heavy.

“I know it hurts,” she said, “and I know you don’t want to move, but—Levi, please. C’mon, I need you to get up.”

It had been a long, long time since Levi had heard that frantic tone from her. She sounded urgent, panicked. Desperate. Levi dragged his eyes open, but found he couldn’t focus on her face anymore. His lungs protested violently as he tried to speak, only coughing instead, dry and hacking. His chest burned.

Hange dragged him to his feet. Levi’s limbs felt heavy and clumsy, detached and completely out of his control. He leaned heavily into Hange’s side as she moved him across the grass.

“C’mon, Levi—work with me.”

Hange hefted him up onto one of the horses. Her horse, he realised, as she clambered up with him. She settled behind him, her arms gripping the reins either side of him. Levi tried to sit up right, but as she kicked the horse on, he slumped back with a low groan. Hange’s voice rumbled through her chest when she spoke.

“You good?” Hange asked quietly, and then, “stupid question, of course you’re not.” Levi found the strength to scoff, but it was a pitiful sound, and followed swiftly with another pained grunt and a fit of coughing. “Bear it a little longer, okay?”

Consciousness drifted, as they rode on. Levi was dimly aware of the sun on his feverish skin, and of Hange’s warm, solid body at his back. Her jaw brushed his head when she moved. Her voice was constant now, a rumble up his spine and in indistinct mumble in his ear. At times he could pick out her words, but his comprehension was hazy, mind unable to string sentences together, to find meaning in her chatter.

In this state, there was no focal point for the pain. It was consuming, indistinct but ever present, impossible to isolate in any one location. His whole body ached. His breathing was quick and laboured. There was no real respite even in this state.

Hange’s hand repeatedly found his throat, fingers feeling for his frantic pulse.

Time passed strangely. The ride seemed to last a lifetime, with Levi waking a thousand times to agony, consciousness barely breaking before he succumbed again to his feverish dozing.

At times, he awoke to new sounds and new sensations. The echo of multiple voices around him, all talking frantically over one. The scratch of crisp sheets beneath his bare back, the click of shoes on tiled floor. New, stinging, fiery pain, sudden and excruciating enough to make his body jolt in discomfort, followed swiftly by strong hands on his arms and legs to keep him still. Cool air blowing gently over his heated skin. His hand caught in a loose, tangled grip.

The aches in his battered body settled, localised. Levi felt it acutely in his chest, though the pressure no longer felt as intense. Breathing still hurt, but the air came easier now. He felt his lungs fill with it, little by little, for the first time in days. He opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the light, then rolled his head slowly to look around.

The small window had been cracked open, the fresh, cool air lifting Levi’s fringe, tickling at his brow. Thin morning light poured in, illuminating the small, sparsely furnished room. Besides the bed he lay on, there was only one small table and a stiff, uncomfortable wooden chair.

Hange was slumped low in the chair. Her legs were sprawled out in front of her, her chin dropped to her chest while she slept. She had discarded her military jacket, eye patch, and glasses in a heap on the floor, and her sleeves were rolled up to the elbows, the top buttons of her shirt undone and splayed open. Her hair hung limp and ratty around her face. She looked pale and exhausted.

Levi’s tongue was dry, tacking to his teeth and the roof of his mouth. It took him three attempts to say her name, and when he did it came out raspy and ragged. He tried to move, to reach over and nudge her awake, to ask what the hell had happened since he’d last been lucid—but as he leaned over a sudden, white hot agony ripped through him, tearing into his side.

He gave a strangled groan and pressed himself back into the mattress, squeezing his eyes closed as he rode out the spasms. Wood scraped by the bed; Hange must have startled awake at his outburst. Levi squinted an eye open to see her blinking rapidly, rubbing her knuckles into her eyes before scooping up her glasses and taking in the sight of him.

The pain subsided little by little, though Levi didn’t dare move again. Hange sat on the edge of her chair and reached for him, her hand stopping short of his and falling to grip the bed sheets instead.

“How you feeling?”

Levi cleared his throat. “Like shit.”

Hange managed a weak smile. The bags under her eyes were considerably darker than they had been before, her skin paler, papery. Levi frowned at her. “You still look like shit.”

Hange waved him off with a small laugh, sitting back and scrubbing her hands over her face. She hung her head over the back of her chair, fingers pressing into her eyes beneath her glasses. She sat for a long while, observing the backs of her eyelids. Levi watched her through pinched eyes as the burn in his side settled to a more familiar ache.

“Don’t do that,” Hange said, voice strained by the stretch of her throat. “Don’t do that again.”

“Which part?” Levi said.

“All of it. Don’t get in stupid accidents. Don’t pretend you’re fine when you’re not. Don’t—”

She stopped short, then, with a sudden hitch of her breath. Levi watched her dig her fingers harder into her eyes, watched the bob of her throat as she swallowed reflexively. For a moment she was quiet, then she sat up straight and turned watery, bloodshot eyes on him.

Hange was strong. She was a far more emotionally available person than he could ever be, but she had an incredible capacity to compartmentalise. To switch off. To accept the necessity, the inevitability of loss, to evaluate and recalculate and move forward. Hange mourned—Levi had witnessed the aftermath of it plenty of times before, repaired broken tables and reorganised upended bookshelves in the wake of her disaster—but she mourned later. Alone. Felt all her fears and frustrations in isolation, away from prying eyes.

Hange wasn’t the type to cry at peoples besides and beg them to live.

And yet.

“Don’t leave me on my own.”

“It wasn’t that—”

“You dare tell me it wasn’t that bad and I’ll kill you myself.”

Levi clamped his mouth shut. Hange was glaring at him like she might really mean it. Instead of arguing, he said, “what’s the damage?”

Hange slumped forward, elbows on her knees and head hung low. “Broken ribs. Ripped up a few muscles in your back. Collapsed lung. The air pressure in your chest was restricting blood flow to your heart.” She put her head in her hands and dug her fingers into her messy hair. “You got so fucking lucky, Levi. If we hadn’t left when we did—”

He watched silently as Hange groaned into her palms. She breathed deeply, back and shoulders raising as she did.

“You could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Hange’s head shot up. “By the skin of your teeth, Levi. You—” she took a long, steadying breath, but her voice still shook as she continued, “—you were barely breathing. You couldn’t talk to me, you would hardly even respond to me.”

“Sorry.”

Levi wasn’t sure what else he was supposed to say. Hange looked distraught, her composure tenuous. Levi’s fingers twitched on the sheets, itching to reach out and touch her, offer some kind of reassurance that he was here, he was fine—but he wasn’t fine, and moving so far was out of the question. He gripped hard at the sheets instead. “Sorry.”

“Not you as well,” Hange said quietly. Levi’s chest tightened painfully at her tone—she sounded so small in that moment. Scared. Levi wasn’t sure he’d ever heard her sound so frail before. “What am I supposed to do if you—” she cut herself off again, shaking her head.

“Same thing you always do.” Hange curled tightly in on herself. Levi turned to stare at the ceiling instead. “You keep going, Commander.”

“Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“One day or another, everyone you care about eventually dies. You said that.” He listened as Hange’s breath hitched, but refused to look at her. “It sucks. It hurts. But we keep moving forward.”

The mattress dipped by his hand. Levi rolled his eyes down, and found Hange hunched out of her chair, her face pressed into the blankets. Levi sunk his fingers quietly into her hair.

They lapsed into a painful silence. Hange hiccupped and sniffled now and then, while Levi scratched lightly at her scalp. After a long while, Hange spoke again.

“I know those were my words,” she said thickly. “But I can’t accept that. Not now. Not after everything.”

“Stubborn,” Levi said quietly. He pulled lightly at her hair until she raised her head, wiping her cheeks and nose messily on her arm. “Disgusting.”

Hange managed a bare, wobbly smile. Levi’s hand fell from her hair as she straightened up, and Hange scooped it up in both of her own. She played absently with his fingers, curling and flexing them, rubbing her thumb over the lines on his palm. She seemed to be gathering herself, brow a little furrowed in thought.

“I know we can’t guarantee anything. I know how uncertain our world is. But just—” Hange paused, closing Levi’s fingers around her own, then looked up at him with a fierce determination. “Promise me anyway.”

Levi blinked sluggishly at her. “Promise you what?”

“That you’ll survive.”

Levi tensed. “Hange…”

“Indulge me. Just this once, please.”

A promise of that kind was unrealistic, Levi knew this. Hange had said so herself: there were no guarantees. Except, that wasn’t quite true—death, at least, was a constant. The only inevitability they had. The island may be free of titans now, but the threat of attack loomed over them like a persistent storm cloud, black and heavy, ready to give at any moment. And accidents, as he had painfully learned, could happen in the blink of an eye.

Levi was resilient, but he wasn’t invincible.

But Hange was looking at him steadily, her resolve unwavering. She wanted his word here and now. Needed it, maybe, but Levi knew her. Hange valued honesty over everything else. There was no way she could feel at ease with such an empty promise.

Levi sighed.

“You’re a brat, you know that? Looking at me like that.”

Hange’s gaze held firm. Levi felt her grip on his hand tighten.

“I can’t promise shit like that, Hange,” he said. She squeezed his hand tighter still, and her body tensed, shoulders drawing up to her ears. “You know I can’t. Nobody can.”

For one horrible, gut wrenching moment, Levi thought she might cry again. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes but when she opened them again, her good eye looked terribly blank.

“You’re right. Sorry, sorry!” She let go of his hand and sat back in her chair, hands resting on her legs instead. Her voice sounded lighter, more like Hange, but there was something off about it. Something forced. Strained. She adjusted her glasses but didn’t meet his gaze again.

This was the Hange he knew. The Hange who could bury her feelings in the moment, squash them down and push them aside to focus on the rational, the plausible. Seeing her like that didn’t relieve him the way it should have. It left a sour taste in his mouth and a discomfort in his gut, knowing that he was the cause of the grief she felt she had to hide.

It was stupid, the whole situation—how a moment of carelessness lead to this; Levi bedridden, and Hange struggling to hold herself together.

The space between them grew stagnant. Hange seemed a little lost in thought, gaze caught blankly on Levi’s blankets, while Levi watched her, waiting for her to say something else, to change the subject, to be Hange again. But Levi was never one for giving inspiring speeches, and in truth, he didn’t know that anything he could say now would make anything better. Hange would do what Hange always did—wait until she was alone, and vent in whatever way she could.

And Levi, as soon as he was able, would do what he always did, too—pick up the broken pieces and mend as much as he could.

“You should rest.”

Hange blinked tiredly over at him. It had been an age since Hange looked well-rested, years since Shiganshina and the exhaustion of that particular battle had never left her. The burden she carried—everything Erwin had left behind and all that they had discovered since—was so impossibly heavy, the expectations put upon her too much for any one person to handle. Hange had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to be worried about him, too.

“Eat something, bathe. Sleep. I’ll still be here when you come back.” After a pause, he added, “I’ll promise you that much.”

Hange gave him a weak, wry smile as she fished up her eye patch, strapping it into place and righting her glasses over it. “I guess I’ll take that. And then tomorrow, you can promise me the same again.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Fine, whatever. Go.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll nap for a couple hours and come back. You should sleep some more too, you know. It’ll help you heal faster.”

Levi grumbled in response, and grumbled louder still when Hange stepped up to the bedside, but he fell quiet when she leaned over, brushing his fringe back from his forehead and pressing a small kiss to his hairline. It was such a simple gesture, and nothing out of the ordinary—Hange had been a physically affectionate person as long as he had known her, always grabbing and hugging and kissing whenever she got the chance—but there was something so tender in it, this time. Levi’s eyes fluttered closed.

Hange lingered longer than was strictly necessary, and yet it still didn’t feel like enough. Levi could easily have let her stay close, feel the warmth of her breath and the softness of her lips on his skin until he drifted into sleep, but she straightened up after a moment and Levi was left instead with the cold breeze from the open window. Levi blinked sluggishly up at her. His own exhaustion barrelled in, making his eyes sting, lids heavy. Hange folded her jacket over her arm and pushed the chair into the corner, out of the way.

“I’ll see you soon, okay?” She said.

“Mm.”

“You’re gonna feel like you got crushed by a titan when the pain meds wear off, so make the most of it.”

“Got it.”

“And you should let the doctor know if anything changes. Straight away, don’t wait around.”

“I will.”

"And there are nurses around, if you get hungry or thirsty. The bathroom is just down the hall too, but they've got bedpans if you need to—"

“Hange.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Hange had already crossed the room as she spoke, but she paused in the doorway, fingers curled around the frame. She deliberated with herself for a moment longer, then said, “hey, Levi?”

“Hm?”

Hange chewed on her lip, contemplating something, a faint blush building on her cheeks. And then she shook her head, gave him a small smile, and said, "Ah, doesn't matter. Sleep well."

She left quickly after that, closing the door quietly behind her. Levi stared at the space she'd vacated, brow a little furrowed; her hesitancy confused him.

But he was tired. His body hurt. His head felt thick and fuzzy, and without Hange's presence to keep him occupied, he consciousness began to drift. 

Tomorrow, he thought hazily. He would ask her tomorrow. For now though, he would follow his own advice; for now, he would rest. 

[wuahae]

☼ dayglow; teaser

pairing: mingyu x f!reader

genre: lifeguard!mingyu, surfer!reader, brief one-sided enemies-to-lovers, summer-before-college!au, netflix coming-of-age rom com coded, set in hawaii

teaser word count: 1.6k (~19k full fic)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chaeyoung.”

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

"Chaeyoung."

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

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

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

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

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

"You said that already."

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

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

"It shows dedication—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That is just some guy."

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

Ah, yes. Kim Mingyu, fellow classmate for all four years of high school. Before he was the bane of your existence, he was just that kid you knew in homeroom, the boy who kept trying (and failing) to balance pencils on his nose, the centerpiece of the notorious sophomore year incident where he tipped back his chair too far back and crashed right as the vice-principal walked in for the monthly classroom evaluation, the kid who napped through most of your third period pre-calc classes because he couldn't, for the life of him, care about unit circles and piecewise functions.

So no, you really don't get all the hype around him. He still never returned that pen you let him borrow in English that one time during senior year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

feedback is appreciated + taglist is open ! thank you for reading :)

[transparenttriumphzombie]

Danielle Bunten Berry (February 19, 1949 – July 3, 1998), formerly known as Dan Bunten, was an American game designer and programmer, known for the 1983 game M.U.L.E., one of the first influential multiplayer video games, and 1984's The Seven Cities of Gold.

In 1998, she was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award by the Computer Game Developers Association. In 2007, the Academy of Interactive Arts & Sciences chose Bunten as the 10th inductee into its Hall of Fame.

Bunten was born in St. Louis, Missouri and moved to Little Rock, Arkansas as a junior in high school. She was the oldest of six siblings. While growing up in Little Rock, Bunten's family didn't always have enough money to make ends meet, so Bunten took a job at a pharmacy. She also held a leadership role with the Boy Scouts.

According to Bunten, one of her fondest childhood memories involved playing games with her family. She was quoted saying, “When I was a kid, the only times my family spent together that weren’t totally dysfunctional were when we were playing games. Consequently, I believe games are a wonderful way to socialize.”

While attending the University of Arkansas, she opened up her own bike shop called Highroller Cyclerie. Bunten acquired a degree in industrial engineering in 1974 and started programming text-based video games as a hobby. After she graduated from college, she was employed by the National Science Foundation, where she created urban models before starting a job at a video game company.

In 1978, Bunten sold a real-time auction game for the Apple II titled Wheeler Dealers to a Canadian software company, Speakeasy Software. This early multiplayer game required a custom controller, raising its price to USD$35 in an era of $15 games sold in plastic bags. It sold only 50 copies.

After producing three titles for SSI, Bunten, who by then had founded a software company called Ozark Softscape, caught the attention of Electronic Arts founder Trip Hawkins. M.U.L.E. was Bunten's first game for EA, originally published for the Atari 8-bit family because the Atari 800 had four controller ports. Bunten later ported it to the Commodore 64. While its sales - 30,000 units - were not high, the game developed a cult following and was widely pirated. The game setting was inspired by the novel Time Enough for Love by Robert A. Heinlein.

Along with the success of M.U.L.E., Berry also had close ties with the games Robot Rascals, Heart of Africa, and Cartels & Cutthroat$. Throughout her career, she was involved in the creation of 12 games, 10 of which revolved around multiplayer compatibility. The only two which didn't have a multiplayer focus were Seven Cities of Gold and Heart of Africa.

Bunten wanted to follow up M.U.L.E. with a game that would have been similar to the later game Civilization, but after fellow Ozark Softscape partners balked at the idea, Bunten followed with The Seven Cities of Gold, which proved popular because of its simplicity. By the time the continent data were stored in the computer's memory, there was little left for fancy graphics or complex gameplay - the game had only five resources. It was a hit, selling more than 150,000 copies.

The follow-up game, Heart of Africa, appeared in 1985 and was followed by Robot Rascals, a combination computer/card game that had no single-player mode and sold only 9,000 copies, and 1988's Modem Wars, one of the early games played by two players over a dial-up modem.  Modem Wars was ahead of its time, as few people in the late 1980s had modems in their homes.

Bunten departed EA for MicroProse. Allegedly, Trip Hawkins, CEO of EA, did not feel that pushing production of games onto a cartridge based system was a good idea. The shift was important to Bunten, as computer games had previously been distributed on floppy discs, and a changeover to a cartridge system would allow games to be played on Nintendo systems. This was a significant factor in her decision to leave. She then developed a computer version of the board game Axis and Allies, which became 1990's Command HQ, a modem/network grand strategy wargame. Bunten's second and last game for MicroProse was 1992's Global Conquest, a 4-player network/modem war game. It was the first 4-player network game from a major publisher. Bunten was a strong advocate of multi-player online games, observing that, "No one ever said on their deathbed, 'Gee, I wish I had spent more time alone with my computer.'"

A port of M.U.L.E. to the Mega Drive/Genesis was cancelled after Bunten refused to put guns and bombs in the game, feeling it would alter the game too much from its original concept. In 1997, Bunten shifted focus to multiplayer games over the Internet with Warsport, a remake of Modem Wars that debuted on the MPlayer.com game network.

Less than a year after the release of Warsport, Bunten was diagnosed with lung cancer presumably related to years of heavy smoking. She died on July 3, 1998. At the time, she was working on the design of an Internet version of M.U.L.E..

The game's primary premise consisted of players playing with and against one another to establish total control over a planet. The name of the game stands for Multiple Use Labor Element. The game was originally made for the Atari 400 and Atari 800 but was later developed to be compatible with the Commodore 64, NES, and IBM pcjr. The game has a maximum of four players. Players are given different options and choices, and are allowed to create their colony the way they see fit. This can be done by changing races and giving respective colonies different advantages that will impact the way the game is played and determined later on down the line.

Ultimately there are two ways in which players can win the game. The first way is by having the most amount of money out of all four players, and the second way is by being able to survive the colony itself. The game focuses heavily on going out and retrieving resources that can be used to benefit their character. Items such as food, energy, and crystite are some of a number of in-game items that players are able to retrieve and use to better themselves. In order for a player to be able to access these items, they will first have to have access to a M.U.L.E. The acquisition of these items has a direct reflection on what the player will be allowed to do. For example, if a player doesn't have enough food, they will have less time during their turn.

The Seven Cities of Gold was originally intended to be another multiplayer game. It was originally a single player format, focused heavily on having the players travel around the map and collect items to help them strengthen their colony. Once they felt as though they had a solid colony, the players could battle each other to see who could overtake who After much consideration, Ozark Software came to the conclusion that this would not be doable. Instead, they went with a formula that had the game focus solely on developing a colony.

Ozark Softscape was a computer game development team consisting initially of Danielle Bunten, her brother Bill Bunten, Jim Rushing, and Alan Watson. Ozark was run out of Bunten's basement. The company was based out of Little Rock, Arkansas and had profound success with a few of their early titles. Ozark Softscape had a publishing deal with Electronic Arts for several of its groundbreaking games. In the early 1990s, Ozark Softscape left its partnership with Electronic Arts over a dispute to port some games to cartridge format for the Nintendo Entertainment System. It began a partnership with MicroProse to produce two more titles: Command HQ and Global Conquest. A dispute occurred over creating a follow-up to M.U.L.E. with Sega in 1993, and the company dissolved. The employees of Ozark Softscape moved to different areas of the software industry. 

Bunten was married three times. Bunten had three children, one daughter and two sons. After a third divorce, Bunten, who had until then been living as male, transitioned to living as a woman. Bunten underwent sex reassignment surgery in November 1992 and afterward kept a lower profile in the games industry. Bunten later regretted having surgery, finding that for her, the drawbacks of surgical transition outweighed the benefits, and wishing she had considered alternative approaches. She joked that the surgery was to improve the video game industry's male/female ratio and aesthetics, but advised others considering a sex change not to proceed unless there was no alternative and warned them of the cost, saying "Being my 'real self' could have included having a penis and including more femininity in whatever forms made sense. I didn't know that until too late and now I have to make the best of the life I've stumbled into. I just wish I would have tried more options before I jumped off the precipice."

After her transition in fall 1992, Bunten stayed out of the video game spotlight, mostly keeping to herself. She felt as though that after transitioning she was not as good at video game development as she had previously been, stating "So, I'm a little more than three years into my new life role as Ms. Danielle Berry, and her career looks to be somewhat different from old Mr. Dan Bunten's. For one thing, I'm not as good a programmer as he was." On July 3, 1998, Berry died of lung cancer.

Wheeler Dealers (1978)

Cartels & Cutthroats (1981)

Computer Quarterback (1981)

Cytron Masters (1982)

M.U.L.E. (1983)

The Seven Cities of Gold (1984)

Heart of Africa (1985)

Robot Rascals (1986)

Modem Wars (1988)

Command HQ (1990)

Global Conquest (1992)

Warsport (1997)

Although many of Bunten's titles were not commercially successful, they were widely recognized by the industry as being ahead of their time. On May 7, 1998, less than two months before her death, Berry was awarded the Lifetime Achievement Award by the Computer Game Developers Association.

In 2000, Will Wright dedicated his blockbuster hit The Sims to Bunten's memory. In 2007, the Academy of Interactive Arts & Sciences chose Bunten to be inducted into its Hall of Fame. Sid Meier, the mastermind behind the video game series Civilization, inducted her at the Hard Rock Hotel in Las Vegas.

Bunten was a true pioneer for the video game industry, especially its multiplayer aspect of it. She is regarded by many as one of the best designers to ever grace the video game industry. Her success has even led people to make the claim that the work she did with games like M.U.L.E and Seven Cities of Gold was the inspiration behind highly successful modern multiplayer games like World of Warcraft.

Bunten was known as someone who was very easy to talk to. If someone recognized her in public, she would be more than delighted to have a conversation with them.

[rootin-tootin-cum-shootin]

Copper and Iron

Synopsis: Y/N finds themself working as a volunteer in an experiment being done by a famous Robotics company. An experiment on a new AI program meant to allow their autonomous androids to have emotions. However what both Y/N and the researchers didn't anticipate was for their new experiment to fall in love with her human.

Ship: Hinata Hyuga x gn! Reader

Word Count: 9,320

Warnings: Yandere, Emotional abuse,Toxic Relationship, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Blood (from a broken nose)

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There are many factors that go into creating something truly magnificent. Often it takes ingenuity, a creative touch, patience, and a lot of perseverance. Not to mention bravery. Sometimes the creations are timeless, whether that be for a practical purpose like the invention of the light bulb or for a more spiritually fulfilling purpose like music. Despite this innovations such as these change form slightly as time progresses, however if one were to go back and look at something like a table from as far back as physical historical artifacts can be found, it can still be recognized for the purpose that it serves. Whether the table is made of plastic from 100 years ago or even Dysprosil from modern day. However none of that matters in the long run, because as previously stated time continues moving forward and so does innovation. It is very rare that the best inventions are ever made, after all the best creations are always the ones where eventually society can no longer live without them. Imagining a world where the thing an individual is most dependent on is missing, is quite often devastating. That is especially the case when it comes to the newest form of AI technology. And it is on that note that our story truly begins. 

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The towering building of Baseline Robotics™ glimmered as the rolling holographic advertisement displayed along the outside shifted to the customary greeting message as the doors unlocked before Y/N. Walking into the surprisingly empty lobby they immediately noticed that the interior decorations seemed to be going for a theme of alien hospital. Everything seemed to be white or a reflective silver and it was very nearly maddening in it’s sterility. However what caught Y/N’s attention was a stiff pure white couch that laid empty. It seemed like nobody had ever sat down on it, whether that be from fear of staining it or how uncomfortable it appeared to be was yet to be determined. Despite this observation Y/N sat down, albeit hesitantly. Soon people began to enter the building and walk down one of the two brightly lit hallways, turning either immediately left or the right while not a single person entered the large door at the end of the middle hallway.  

They had never been to Baseline Robotics™ as they never really saw a need to before now. AI was an essential part of society and for that Y/N was grateful that robotics companies existed. Without the people who can make the AI that is essential to daily tasks like driving, or customer service life would be far more difficult. And thus cities like Canphia wouldn’t exist. However recently Baseline Robotics™ had begun the shift from functional robots and computer programs to fully autonomous androids. Androids of course had already existed for a few years short of two centuries, but never had they ever looked so realistic. The only thing preventing them from being fully human was the lack of emotions. But since most androids were expensive and thus they were employed as nannies and maids in only the richest households. Being able to get angry or excited would make them neglect their duties and so nobody ever considered creating an android capable of emotions. And thus Y/N had never even considered going into the Baseline building. Besides what would a college student ever need with a robot servant. 

“Greetings! How can we help you today?” A robotic voice asked Y/N as it wheeled closer to them. 

“I’m here to answer the ad requesting volunteers for an experiment,” Y/N responded carefully.

“Follow me!” The robot chirped as it turned abruptly towards the hallway behind it, eventually both Y/N and the robot reached the door that nobody else had entered. The robot whirred softly as it unlocked the door in front of it,”Please enter and someone will be with you shortly.” 

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“Hello, you must be here for the experiment. I’m Researcher Ino, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The young woman was grinning excitedly at Y/N as she extended a hand towards them. 

Reaching a hand out to shake Ino’s Y/N introduced themself quickly before they were suddenly being taken down a hallway by conveyor belt. It led down a series of short confined hallways before abruptly opening up into a large production floor similar to the ones that create cars. 

“So Y/N before we get started with the paperwork I’d like to ask you some quick questions,” Ino hummed as she looked over the documents displayed on her Holo-Cast. 

“Go ahead Ino.” 

“Why did you want to sign up for this?”

“Well…” Y/N hesitated, to say they were embarrassed at their reasoning for signing up was an understatement, but figuring honesty was the best way to go they continued to speak. “I moved to Canphia about six months ago and it’s been very hard for me to make any meaningful relationships so most of my free time is spent alone at home. I figured that since I don’t really ever do anything I could dedicate my spare time to assisting the behind the scenes science that goes into creating the AI we depend on.”

“Is there anything in particular that’s been preventing you from making friends?” the researcher inquired pleasantly. 

“If you haven’t noticed yet I have a difficult time speaking Katlior so it’s harder for me to communicate.” Y/N confessed with a light shrug as they entered Ino’s office. 

“Well Y/N I believe that you will be a perfect candidate for the experiment. With your help we might be able to finally take the last step in advancing AI technology. Welcome to the team.”

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It had been eight months of working with Ino and Y/N was excited to finally see what all their work was being put towards. If someone asked them if their time spent in the labs was helpful, Y/N in all honesty would have answered no. All they did was take silly personality quizzes about themself and their relationships that inevitably lead nowhere interesting or have conversations with the same four bot programs. The strangest things that they encountered in the lab however were the days where Ino would sit with Y/N and eat a meal while they discussed normal things for two people who are getting to know each other, like hobbies, interests and ideal types of all things. And what made this the strangest of the lab days was the fact that Ino would always take notes during their conversations, so the conversations were always a little awkward. 

Nonetheless Y/N was excited as earlier today Ino had mentioned that they needed to come into the lab a day early. She wouldn’t tell them exactly why they needed to come in but she sounded very excited and that made Y/N excited. 

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By the time Y/N had arrived at Borderline Robotics™ Ino was very nearly bouncing off the walls from how exhilarated she was at what she was about to unveil to Y/N. When they walked in she immediately jumped on them, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s shoulders while talking a mile a minute. “Ah you’re here! I called you in because we’re finally ready to begin the next stage of testing, and I have a feeling you’re going to love exactly what this stage entails. So if you would follow me I need to brief you on exactly what you’re about to experience so you’re prepared for this breakthrough. Okay let’s go!”

“Ino where exactly are we going? Isn’t the lab the other way?”

“Yep but today we’re going somewhere else.”

“...I’m so confused,” Y/N shook their head as they walked down the otherwise silent hallway. Ino grinned as she unlocked a door leading to a spiraling staircase and ushering Y/N to follow her down. 

“We need to go to the lab with the highest security clearance today, after all it’s not every day where you get so far in creating the first autonomous AI with emotions. So yeah, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, that’s what all the testing has been for Y/N. We want to be able replicate emotions in our autonomous AIs. So the information you gave us was used to create a personalized android based off of characteristics that you favored in the tests, and from that we created a personality for your android. She is as realistic as possible and fulfills the purpose you wanted, with a little extra thrown in too!” Ino was still talking very quickly and when combined with the endless winding of the staircase it served to only further disorient Y/N. 

Frustrated at their lack of comprehension on the topic Ino was babbling on and on about Y/N grabbed Ino's arm and stopped her both from talking and walking. “Ino please slow down, I'm not following. What purpose did I ever say I wanted an android for?” Y/N said exasperated. Ino blinked at them, her mouth falling into an open o shape. 

Looking away from them she flushed, when she spoke her speech had slowed down considerably, “Well you didn't explicitly say you wanted her to have a particular purpose but I assumed that you would like it if her purpose was to be a companion for you. You did say that making friends was hard due to your limited language skills so with her you would always have a friend. And on top of that we also gave her the ability to speak every known human language, so no matter where you go with her, she will always be able to help you with the language of that country.” She looked back at Y/N with a shy smile and continued, “She is going to be a complete sweetheart to you. I can tell you that, I programmed her personally. If all goes well with us fully waking her up, you and the other participants will all be able to take home your personalized android to continue testing. Our goal is to see if it’s possible to have an android with a near full range of human emotion that would allow them to do jobs that are stressful, dangerous and need careful action, while still maintaining the capability to de escalate and comfort those in need. Like… search and rescue paramedics or firefighters! And by having willing participants take the androids out and fully immerse them in day to day life, it will definitely prove if it’s possible.”

“What happens to her if the experiment succeeds? After it’s over I mean. Will she be scrapped?” Y/N said as they stared at the door at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Of course not Y/N-san, she would continue living just like how she was before the end of the experiment, minus all the mandatory testings she needs to undergo… Oh that reminds me, before I introduce you to her there are some things you need to know, you know rules and the like,” she said now slowly descending down the remaining stairs to the door.  Y/N now relieved at knowing what was about to happen when they entered the lab, followed after her, ready to listen intently to the rules they needed to follow.

“So first of all since this is an experimental form of AI you are going to have to bring her in biweekly for the first four months for little check ups, as there might be some problems with either the physical body she inhabits or glitches in her programming. If you happen to find any before the next check up feel free to bring her in before then, and we’ll fix her right up! Number two, she needs to be charged every 32 hours. She is able to use the solar panels embedded into her skin to self charge in direct sunlight but if she doesn’t get any direct sunlight and her battery starts to get low, then you will have to plug her in. Number three, while charging with the cord in she is not to do any energy consuming activities, so laying down or sitting are the best options. Light activity such as walking a very short distance is possible but not strongly advised, listening to music or watching children’s television shows will be fine, just make sure she won’t be processing any heavy amounts of information or moving too much. The last thing is less important for you to know but nonetheless, number four she is waterproofed so she is able to interact with water without being damaged. However just because she can wash dishes, walk in the rain and shower does NOT mean she can be fully submerged in water. So no baths or going scuba diving with her. Wading in a pool or lake is possible although not recommended.“

Y/N nodded sincerely as they programmed the instructions into their Holo-Cast so they wouldn’t forget them after leaving the lab, and despite their focus and serious diligence in recording the rules Ino could tell that they were excited. After all they were barely containing a smile as she opened the door to the room where the androids were all just awakening. Y/N looked up from what they were doing as Ino motioned for them to follow her into the room. 

Once in the room Ino quietly greeted her two fellow researchers as she guided Y/N past all the other pairings in the room and over to the single lone android. Ino stopped a few steps from where the android was sitting on the table, there was nothing on the table beside her but the blanket that at one point covered her body before her awakening. Disappointed but not surprised, Ino nudged Y/N forward to meet her while she went to go get the bag of the things the android would need, “Hinata, I have someone here to meet you.” She said, causing the android to turn her head and look at the pair. 

“Hello, I’m Hinata,” she said inquisitively. 

“Hello Hinata, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” Y/N responded enthusiastically albeit they did feel slightly uncomfortable due to the others around them already having extensive conversations.   

“Hi!!” Hinata said enthusiastically, she seemed to be a very bright and nearly childlike person and that made Y/N smile softly at her. They truly didn’t know what to say to Hinata and thus their conversations were short, and the silences between them long.  

Ino soon returned with a very large duffel bag and handed it off to Hinata’s waiting arms, “You’re going to be living with them from now on Hinata, that means you can leave the lab!” Hinata looked at Y/N intently and nodded slowly. She was starting to realize what the humans wanted from the other androids and she was wondering if Y/N was the same way. 

“Y/N one thing before you leave, feel free to bring her by anytime you want. We’d all love to see how you’re both doing. Okay?” Ino interjected as Hinata put on her jacket so the pair could leave. Y/N smiled graciously as they agreed to stop by sometime soon. And with that they left with Hinata in tow. 

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The pair were silent as they ascended the stairs, not a word was spoken between them until they got outside of the building at which point the bubble of awkward tension burst between them. Hinata reached out in a move that mirrored the one that Y/N did to Ino not even a half hour earlier. “What am I to you Y/N? I know all of us were created with a role in mind and I want to know the one you think I’m going to play.” Hinata said intensely, her eyes were locked on Y/N as she spoke. 

“It’s embarrassing to admit but I want you to be my friend. I moved here a year ago and despite spending time with my classmates after lectures I haven’t been able to make any real friends by myself due to a strong language barrier between us. I can understand if you-” 

Y/N had looked away from Hinata in shame while they spoke and they only looked back after Hinata’s once hard and quite frankly intimidating voice softened, “Do you really mean you want to be friends? You’re not going to make me into a servant or something?” 

Y/N blinked in shock at how quickly her attitude changed but nodded with a smile, "No Hinata, I’m not going to make you my servant. I want to be friends, although in all honesty I wouldn’t mind if you help with chores sometimes…” They trailed off as Hinata laughed brightly. She intertwined their hands and swung them back and forth as they walked away from Baseline Robotics™. 

“Can we go to a zoo? I want to see a real life hippopotamus Y/N!” Hinata asked excitedly. Y/N nodded as they giggled, Hinata was just so full of wonder at everything and it was endearing. 

“Of course we can Hinata, you little sweetheart.” 

They hadn’t gotten more than a block away when Y/N’s Holo-Cast lit up with a call from Ino. It was strange that Ino was calling them so soon after leaving but thinking it might be important Y/N picked up the call. As soon as they hit the receive option Ino’s frantic voice was heard, “Oh thank goodness you’re okay! You need to bring Hinata back here right now for deactivation befo-” 

“Deactivation? Ino what the hell are you talking about? Hinata hasn’t done anything to me other than hold my hand,” Y/N said while looking at Hinata who looked just as confused. 

“The other androids, they just... flipped out all of the sudden and attacked the volunteers. Most of the humans were sent to the emergency room from the damage the androids caused. We were supposed to have a program put in that stopped them from harming their humans unless they were in direct danger but the volunteers were all just trying to leave to go home and the androids just went crazy unprovoked… Y/N are you sure Hinata isn’t going to-” 

This time Hinata cut Ino off, “Why would I ever want to hurt my friend Researcher Ino? We are even going to the zoo together, I really want to see a real life hippo! Please don’t take me away from Y/N, i really like them… ” Hinata was pouting at the idea of not getting to spend time with her new best friend when they had met. 

Ino paused her pleas as she realized that Hinata must have not seen Y/N as a threat judging by the behaviour Y/N described and the way that Hinata spoke of them. 

In shock from Hinata at all but admitting that she would have lashed out in anger had their conversation gone differently,  Y/N looked at the small form of Hinata who was now crouched down and cooing at a pigeon, having been distracted from the conversation at hand by the small avian’s appearance. “She doesn’t seem to want to hurt me,” Y/N thought, “And if she was going to do it she would have done it when everyone else did. Plus she acts a lot like a child, so I doubt she would do it now.”

Ino sighed, “It’s your limbs that are at stake here. Fine, if you feel safe, then...carry on your way then.” 

The last thing Y/N saw before the call ended was Ino shaking her head in disbelief. With a chuckle Y/N called out to Hinata, “You heard the woman! Let’s roll out.”

“Okie Dokie!” Hinata affirmed, reaching for Y/N’s hand once more. Swinging their intertwined hands between them as they walked to the zoo.

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Two weeks later Y/N and Hinata went in for the first scheduled check up, where amazingly Ino found the same abnormalities in her code as the other androids displayed; and yet she still didn't attack Y/N. Outwardly there was no evidence of violent tendencies anywhere in Hinata. “But the code doesn't lie, so what made her refrain from attacking Y/N?” Ino thought aloud as she watched the physical portion of the check up from a safe distance. 

Everything seemed to be going how it should be going and despite the excitement her colleagues were showing at having a working android, Ino thought that she needed to be deactivated like the others or at least reprogrammed.

When the other researcher finished with Hinata, Ino got an idea. The best way to find out a person's reasoning behind their actions is the simplest way. To ask them. She took a deep breath and walked over, rehearsing what she'd say in her head on the way over. Putting a hand on Hinata’s shoulder Ino carefully asked her the question all the while trying to not to give away her true intentions. 

“Hello Hinata I'm happy to report that the physical evaluation shows you are in perfect condition, Y/N must be taking good care of you," That got a smile and a pleased nod from the android. Ino patted her shoulder and continued, "But I do have a question for you in regards to your code. You see when we were looking at your coding today during the psych testing, we found the same anomaly that caused the other androids to attack their human volunteers, in you, and yet you were the only one not to attack anyone. So I figured I'd ask you what all us researchers were thinking, why didn't you attack Y/N?” 

“They wanted me to be their friend, and I wanted to be their friend too! Friends don't hurt friends Ino,” Hinata said cheerfully. She looked towards Y/N like a child looking to their parent for affirmation of their good behaviour. Y/N smiled at her and squeezed her hand as they watched Ino take notes. 

“Well as much as I would like to take out that particular section of code that created the violent behavior, I have been ordered by the higher ups to leave it in as they don’t want to potentially compromise Hinata. Plus if she says she’s not going to act on it, I suppose we'll just have to trust her," Ino gave a good natured smile directed at Hinata before continuing, "However I will implement a tell that would allow you, Y/N to see if she's getting to a state where she would act violent.” Ino said as she plugged some of the cords that were laying next to the table Hinata was sitting on into the nape of Hinata's neck; quickly pulling out a tablet, Ino typed out a sequence of numbers and letters before setting the tablet back down. Turning back to the pair she grinned, "and now we wait for it to upload, Hinata just make sure to lay down otherwise your balance could get a little wonky. You'll undergo a quick recalibration of the senses and all that, and then you're free."

Hinata nodded and laid down carefully, Y/N kept a hand on her back to help guide her down. Their face betrayed a look of shock and a hesitation that looked closer to fear than worry to Ino as by now Hinata's eyes had turned a milky white to allow for the update to her code to complete.

"Don't you worry about the eyes Y/N, that's supposed to happen. Any update to her code or recalibration of her senses will limit her sight in order to not overwhelm her in the process.  You probably haven't had to charge her using the cord yet but you'll notice her eyes will do that when charging as well."

Y/N shook their head, shaking the image of Hinata sitting in a dark room looking limp with wires coming off her body and her eyes as empty as a corpse. In a quick attempt to permanently banish the thought from their brain they looked at Ino and spoke once more. “And what is the tell you put in, Ino? You're being very vague…” Y/N inquired, wary.

Ino handed Y/N a sheet of paper as she spoke, “Her hair will lighten when she’s in a bad mood, and darken when she's in a good mood. The lighter it is the worse her mood is, the darker her hair is the better her mood is.  If she's sad, it will have blue in it. And embarrassment will create a pink tinge to the tips of  her hair. Both of the last two are because she has no fluids to convey those types of emotions, and with plenty of deliberation between the researchers we determined they’re both essential." 

Y/N was not convinced that this whole "tell" thing wasn't a predetermined plan instead of the on the fly programming that Ino was trying to make it look like it was. After all why else would she have a sheet of paper already printed off with a comprehensive guide to the colouring of Hinata's hair? 

Realizing that Y/N had caught on, Ino hurriedly got Hinata unhooked so that the pointed look Ino was being given wouldn’t turn into another question, "Okay you are both ready to go, see you in two weeks.

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“Y/N can we watch Iron Man again? Pretty please?” Hinata whined. 

“No, but only because you were whining again. Remember what we talked about Hinata, we don't whine to get what we want.” Y/N chided as they put on their coat. 

Hinata slumped down in the chair, she was disappointed in herself for making Y/N upset at her again. She was really trying to act more sophisticated and not like a toddler but everything was so new to her and she wanted to see it all, but it was just so hard to curb her enthusiasm for life when her wants were sidelined to more important things. But she would have to try harder so that Y/N wouldn’t be upset at her anymore. 

“Hinata! Sweetheart, I know you’re sulking out there. Get up and come put your shoes on so that we can go out, my friends are waiting for us at the restaurant and I don’t want to be late,” Y/N called out from in front of the door. Standing up, Hinata smoothed the wrinkles out of her clothes and walked over to where Y/N stood. 

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“Hello Sakura. How are you?” Y/N stood with Hinata beside them as they greeted the back of a person. 

  The woman turned to face Y/N as if she was surprised that they had spoken to them, when she locked eyes with Y/N she immediately began to smile. Sakura stood up, her short pink hair bouncing as she pulled Y/N into a hug,“Y/N! There you are, it felt like you were never going to meet up with us again. Sai and I were missing you.” After pulling away she looked at Hinata and spoke again, “Who’s this Y/N?”

Y/N grabbed Hinata’s hand as they spoke, “This is Hinata, she’s my friend and roommate.”

Hinata was pleased by finally being acknowledged by Sakura, she smiled timidly and waved at the girl, the ends of her hair shifting to a rosy pink , “It's nice to meet you Sakura.” Her voice was gentle when she spoke, she really wanted to appear as mature and polite as possible so that Y/N would be even more happy, so she let Sakura tug her down into the seat next to her. 

Y/N sat across from her and immediately turned to talk to the person next to them. His voice was deep when he spoke and had a strange way of pronouncing Katlio that led Hinata to believe he must be foreign, and therefore probably the Sai that Sakura mentioned. 

Sai had fully black eyes and his arms were covered in slowly morphing tattoos. Hinata was shocked, she didn't know that humans could come out like that, it made her feel very strange, she couldn't quite place the emotion she was feeling when she saw the human.

What she did know was she absolutely hated the way that Y/N was looking at him. 

“Examining his tattoos Hinata?” Sakura teased from beside her, “They are really cool I will admit. But still tell us about yourself. Where are you from, how did you meet Y/N, you know all the good stuff.” She tossed her hair as she spoke although it didn't go very far due to its cropped length. 

Y/N spun their head to look at Hinata directly in the eyes, they were silently pleading with her to not reveal that she was an android. Hinata didn’t like knowing she had to lie but she understood that she needed to do it to keep Y/N happy. So after sending a reassuring smile to Y/N she turned back to Sakura. Carefully and with practiced grace, as if she was a spider moving across the strands of it’s web to trap a still fluttering butterfly, she began to spin her lie, “Well…it’s not a very exciting story guys. I was born in Canphia but moved away when I was really young. I recently came back to the city and the two of us met through a mutual friend not too long ago and we hit it off. Y/N asked if I wanted to be their roommate after they found out I was looking for a place.” Hinata shrugged nonchalantly after she spoke, Sakura seemed pleased with her answer and thus turned her attention to Sai. Hinata immediately looked over at Y/N with the hope that she did a good job. 

Y/N smiled at her in relief and thinking she looked a lot like a puppy reached over and ruffled Hinata’s hair. So far, having Hinata around was going really well for Y/N because even though they still weren’t the best at Canphia’s unique language they got confidence in knowing that they had someone who would always be able to help them out. 

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When Y/N and Hinata arrived home from the diner, Hinata grabbed Y/N’s hands and stopped them from going inside the apartment. When they looked at her in confusion she giggled nervously, the tips of her hair going light pink for the second time that day, “I saw something in a drama and I want to try it. May I Y/N?” She tilted her head in inquisition and waited for their answer. 

“As long as it’s not going to hurt anyone then sure,” Y/N responded. 

Hinata smiled at them, went up on her tiptoes and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on Y/N’s forehead, “It’s not because I love you, it’s because I love only you. If it’s not you then I won’t have anyone else.” When she pulled away she was smiling very brightly, she had been wondering why the men in movies always did this sort of thing to people they like, but after doing it herself, she could completely understand why. It felt really nice to show affection like that, so much so that it created a small fluttering deep inside her chest.

After a beat of stunned silence Y/N blinked repeatedly at her as they spoke, “Are you quoting an old romance drama at me? Remind me to no longer watch sappy shows with you.” With a good natured eyeroll that Hinata could tell wasn’t genuine annoyance, Y/N dragged her inside. 

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Hinata and Y/N had been meeting up with Sai and Sakura every Saturday for months now and although the number of people who attended, the food ordered and the conversations had were always different, the one thing Hinata could expect during these times was to be ignored by the group of humans and only used as a translator by Y/N. She was always kept at an arm's length and unless she forcefully inserted herself into the conversation nobody would seem to notice she was even there, not even her best friend and roommate, the beautiful shining and incredibly social butterfly, Y/N. 

They used to do almost everything together. From grocery shopping and cleaning, to going out to the movies Hinata and Y/N were inseparable, no matter what they were doing they would always make it fun. Nothing was done around each other without trying to make the other laugh. Throwing popcorn, random tickle fights and long cuddle sessions on the couch when Y/N had a stressful day. Hinata cherished all of the moments they spent together, but now Hinata was not sure Y/N felt the same. 

But then it changed.

Soon Hinata practically had to beg for a simple good morning from Y/N. They had been coming home from school and immediately retreating into their room. They didn’t come out for anything and the light would stay on until very late into the night. Hinata tried everything to get their attention and yet no matter what she did none of it mattered because they never saw it. It was like she didn't even exist to her butterfly anymore. 

Afterall what is the spider who must stay grounded on her web to the butterfly with the freedom to explore not only the skies but the world below.

She even had to go to her last biweekly checkup without them, and those days were always spent together no matter how busy Y/N was. 

Then just that morning Y/N had asked Hinata to come with them to lunch and she was ecstatic, she dressed up nicely and did her hair just the way Y/N liked it. Soft bangs styled to frame her face, with the rest of her hair cascading down her back,  it was perfect for them to run their hands through, but that same hair which was normally a deep purple, nearing black was now a striking platinum blonde. 

She was at one point during the walk to the diner, hopeful that her relationship with Y/N would go back to normal and yet here she was still being ignored after months of the same torture over and over again. And any hope of waiting for things to go back to normal was crushed as the new guy, Neji wrapped his arm around Y/N's waist. He had been flirting with Y/N the whole time and what was making it positively intolerable was the fact that Hinata had to keep translating the flirtatious comments to Y/N. 

And what made it worse were the reactions Y/N gave. With every laugh and turn of their head to hide their flustered face, or the casual touches that Y/N would reciprocate Neji’s advances with, Hinata felt a sharp pain in her chest. Like a knife being shoved in and twisted. Hinata was starting to resent her creators for giving her the capability to feel. What exactly she was feeling was a mystery to Hinata but she knew that it hurt. It hurt a lot.

After over an hour of being positively miserable Hinata had finally had enough. Abruptly standing up she stormed out of the diner. As she left she accidentally knocked over the chair she was sitting in and the clang of the metal chair hitting the floor caused the conversation at her table to screech to a halt. 

 Y/N was extremely embarrassed by her behavioural changes and they apologized for Hinata. Excusing themself, they picked up the chair as they left, catching the door before it shut, thus the bell failing to ring again. When they got outside they were greeted with Hinata leaning against a light post while pouting. Normally Y/N would have simply talked to Hinata about her terrible behavior but they had never seen her hair such a stark white before. Sure they'd seen her hair a light brown or even a natural looking blonde but never white, immediately getting concerned and scared, Y/N walked around to the diner's alleyway where they could still see Hinata while not allowing her to see them. Y/N commed Ino on their Holo-Com to make sure she was available for an emergency visit. 

Hinata was even more miserable now, she was alone in the middle of the day and she had nothing to do. Now she couldn't even send dirty looks to that Neji guy who kept flirting with her Butterfly. The street was mostly silent save for the passing of vehicles along the road, which was a blessing. At least she had the quiet rhythm of the late afternoon traffic to help calm her down. Brushing her now blue bangs out of her eyes, she started to count the cars passing her on the street. At least that would give her something to think about other than Y/N and that stupid human man flirting with each other.

Behind her the door to the diner opened up, the bell above the door rang and soon the sound of footsteps followed. Whoever it was moved towards where Hinata was standing, watching the movement along the busy street. The footsteps stopped behind her and immediately Hinata knew who was standing there. 

“Hey Himiko right? After you left Y/N followed, have you seen them? I just want to see how-” Neji cut himself off as Hinata slowly turned around, something wasn't right with her eyes. They were soulless, empty, and not at all human. Neji staggered back as Hinata began to smile, a smile that didn't reach past her lips. 

Hinata walked towards Neji, enjoying how he was trying to pretend he wasn't scared of her. In a split second of panic Neji wound up and punched Hinata in the throat only to be met with something rock hard that hurt him more than it hurt Hinata. But that was all Hinata needed. In the blink of an eye Neji was on the ground, his nose broken and bloody. 

Y/N was watching this from around the corner in shock. Hinata with her snow white hair had just sent a man crashing to the ground with blood pouring from his face. She stood over the now unconscious Neji, blood dripping from her knuckles. Y/N was shaking in fear when Ino picked up the com they had sent. 

“Come here now,” Ino said before hanging up.

Y/N nodded and walked toward where Hinata was. They stood beside her and offered their shaking hand. “Hinata how about we go for a walk together okay? To clear our heads, maybe we'll go see our friend Ino.” Y/N said tensely. At this point Sakura had seen Neji and was rushing out to go help him thus Y/N felt comfortable leaving him. 

Hinata on the other hand was excited, she hadn't seen Ino in a while and her Butterfly wanted to spend time with her again. Clasping their hand in hers, they began to walk toward Baseline Robotics™. Y/N wanted to vomit due to the sticky feeling of Neji's blood on their hand.

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“So you're concerned because her hair turned white after you spent over an hour using her as a translator so that a guy could successfully flirt with you? And then she punched the same guy who was flirting with you after already being incredibly annoyed by him. Y/N you realize how ridiculous that is right? Hinata did that because she was jealous and didn’t know better than to lash out physically, especially since from what you said he threw the first punch. That registered to her coding as an immediate threat, so of course she removed the threat by incapacitating him,” Ino said as she sipped her smoothie. With a chuckle she set her drink down and motioned to Hinata who was playing with one of the robotic hands on the table while listening in.

“Y/N we made Hinata specifically so that she could emulate human emotions while still being fully autonomous. You have to remember, she's comparable to a puppy, she has you and that's about it at the moment. She probably feels very protective of you since she doesn't know anyone as well as she knows you, and because of that she is very attached to you. So when you bring her places with you and then ignore her in favour of other people it irritates her. Just like how you'd feel if the person you love was ignoring you constantly. She may have copper wires instead of iron in veins but she is essentially human so treat her that way. Then everything will be fine and you won't face that problem again. Okay?” 

Y/N nodded relieved and mildly embarrassed, walking over to Hinata who was listening intently to the conversation. “I-... I think that I owe you an apology Hinata. How I treated you today was unfair, and I swear I won’t allow it to happen again. Come on sweetheart let's go home, we can watch your favourite movie and cuddle, just… let me make it up to you?” Y/N said as Ino's words replayed over and over in their head. 

Hinata grinned widely, her hair slowly darkening at the roots, turning her whole head black once more, the bangs however still remained tinted blue, but in the dimmed light of the lab it was near impossible to notice. She dropped the disembodied arm and grabbed for Y/N’s hands and as the pair made their way home one thing in particular about what Ino said stuck out to Y/N. Did Hinata really do that to Neji because she was in with love Y/N? Y/N didn't really believe it, after all why would she, they were friends.

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Another lunch over and Hinata was excited to go home so she and Y/N could hopefully watch a movie together. Over the course of the week Hinata had been formulating a plan, a plan that she carefully acted on all throughout that day’s lunch meet up. She was just waiting for Y/N to come out of the washroom so they could leave when Sai and Sakura came over to say goodbye after lunch. 

“Hey Hinata before we go, we wanted to remind you to tell Y/N that next week we’re going to eat lunch at the cafe closer to campus. Oh and one more thing... thank you for giving us our Y/N back.” Sai said with an uncharacteristically soft voice before Sakura managed to drag him over to her bike.

 Hinata's hair lightened in the blink of an eye at the comment Sai made, she was on the verge of starting to scream at the pair when the familiar voice of Y/N interrupted her, “What did they say about me? I heard my name but couldn’t quite catch anything else” they asked sweetly. 

She plastered on a fake smile and shook her head, “You don’t want to know.” She laughed awkwardly and held out a hand for Y/N to take. Y/N frowned and took hold of her hand as they walked back home. 

“What. did. they. say. Hinata.”

“They told me that I was ‘too good to be stuck hanging around’ you,” Hinata sighed deeply, really uncomfortable with saying it.

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Y/N had been getting more and more suspicious of Hinata with every weekly lunch meetup. It seemed as though every time that Y/N didn’t understand a remark made about them during those times Hinata would frown and look away as if she was in pain. If they pressed her to say what she'd heard she would confess that the people they were with were insulting them. At first they didn't believe it but now they were starting to believe her, since they stopped getting invited group activities with their so called friends.

Y/N was actually getting lonely from the lack of contact they were getting in the brief amount of time they were actually invited to go and meet with friends. But the greatest sting was when not even a week after their exams finished, the people that Y/N thought were friends had ditched them. And the one person they thought they could rely on was being distant.

It was getting harder to fall asleep every night as the hole in their chest just kept eating away at Y/N, telling them that all their worst fears were true. They had cried themself to sleep as many as six times in the past two weeks. The worst part however was just how exhausting the isolation had become.

The clock read 3:45AM and Y/N was just starting to fall asleep when a loud crash was heard from out in the living room. Thinking it was an intruder, Y/N immediately thought of Hinata and how valuable she would be if some devious rival to Baseline Robotics™ had found out about her existence. Leaping out of bed in a panic to protect her, Y/N grabbed a heavy book and slowly crept their way into the kitchen. The noise continued while Y/N made their way to where the sounds were originating from. Once in the kitchen they continued to creep forward into the living room where they flicked the lights on ready to attack the intruder; only to see Hinata now standing over a now completely decimated roomba. 

“Hinata? What the hell are you doing to our roomba!” Y/N whisper yelled, Hinata only pouted in response and raised her leg presumably to stomp on it again. With a sigh Y/N put the book down and looked at Hinata in the eyes, they were fed up with life, exhausted, angry and very willing to take it out on her, “I'm going to ask you this one more time. What the fuck. Do. You. Think. You're. Doing?” 

Hearing the anger in Y/N's voice Hinata lowered her leg and the colour blue creeped into her hair, “I missed you and I wanted to see you again without having to be around those... humans,” she said softly. 

“But what does that have to do with the roomba, which, need I remind you, is nothing but a vacuum?” Y/N whisper-yelled, they were so very confused.

“Because you love it more than you love me,” Hinata screamed. She paused and ran a hand through her deep blue hair in an effort to calm down before she spoke again “Ever since you got it months ago you've been ignoring me, you said when we first met that you wanted to be friends. Now you ignore me unless you want to go see those humans you call friends when all they do is insult you to your face when they know you can't understand them. I hate the fact that despite being used as nothing more than a translator by you, I still can't find it in me to stop loving you… You're my whole world but I know I'm not yours and that scares me. I'm scared that you will leave me all alone…” Hinata hung her head, if she could cry, she would have. She walked off into her sparsely decorated room and shut the door with a heavy sigh. 

Y/N was left alone once more and as they stood in the oppressive silence of the living room, they realized just how much they messed things up. Their priorities clearly hadn't been straight in a very long time and instead of being the person Hinata needed, they were selfish and used her. “But even though all that, she still cares for me…” Y/N said in muted shock, a hand rushing to cover their mouth, it was sickening to realize, and Y/N’s stomach lurched at the thought. They attempted to look at the floor but everything blurred as their eyes filled with tears. All those feelings of abandonment, of isolation, of loss and desperation; like a butterfly desperately searching, flying high and low to find a particular flower to feed off of, these past few weeks could have been avoided if they had simply looked to their side where Hinata was waiting for them. Hinata, the shy violet that was consistently rooted in Y/N’s life even when they willingly became blind to her.

 Y/N didn't see it before but they truly did love her more than anyone else. And all that it took to come to this realization was facing the potential loss of the only person to still love Y/N even after countless weeks of neglecting both Hinata’s emotional needs, and their own. 

With a newfound determination they looked towards where Hinata's room was. The hallway leading to the bedrooms was still dark but despite this Y/N traversed it with the familiarity of their many months with each other, they needed to make right what they nearly completely messed up. 

Knocking on Hinata's door Y/N called out to her, “Hinata, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I want to apologize to you, I haven't been treating you very well recently and I'm so sorry for that. I got so excited by the idea that I would end up with more friendships than before and I ended up using you. I realize now that I made a huge mistake. The people who I wanted to impress the most turned their backs on me and instead of spending time with you I became a recluse. Everything I thought I knew about the people I cared about was a lie. And I've been so damn blind to all the signs around me that even though I knew that you loved me, I never even realized that this whole time, I loved you back. Avoiding you even though you were the only person who was ever truly my friend was the biggest mistake I could have ever made. And I did it… I don't expect you to forgive me… I just- ... I just really want you to know that I am so sorry for how I've treated you, I never deserved to have someone as kind as you in my life.” 

Y/N's face was hot with shame as tears rolled down their cheeks. Their strength was suddenly missing from their legs and they slid down the wall next to her bedroom door that they had been using as a crutch. 

When the door opened Y/N heard soft whimpers that weren't their own, in the doorway stood Hinata looking like she was on the verge of tears. Everything was silent for a moment as the pair just stared at each other. Y/N knew that in that moment if Hinata could cry, she would have been.

“I-I forgive you Y/N. But y-you have to promise me th-that you won't do that to me ever again. I would never leave you all alone, so if you're feeling upset you could always talk to me. Just don't shut me out again okay?” Hinata hiccupped. She knelt down and put her head on Y/N's shoulder and an arm around their side as tears continued to make their way down Y/N's cheeks. “One more thing… I want you to say that I'm yours. Like they do in all the dramas.” she said gently, she wanted to improve the mood somehow and at the moment that seemed to be the best way to do it. 

“I will, but only if you're going to do the same,” Y/N murmured as they clung onto Hinata's pyjamas. 

Hinata's arms reached around and pulled them into a warm and tender embrace, allowing Y/N to take comfort in finally seeing that they were not alone at all. The duo stayed just like that until Y/N became tired enough that they fell asleep, their hand still bunched up with a fistfull of Hinata’s nightgown. 

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When the beginnings of the golden light of the sunrise entered their apartment Hinata couldn't help but look down at her sleeping lover. They looked so peaceful, so sweet, so pretty, so delicate, just like a little butterfly; lying there with their head on her lap as they clutched onto the hem of her nightshirt in their sleep. Hinata wanted to live in that moment forever. The warmth of the sun hitting her face made her feel energized and the soft fluttering feeling was back, much stronger now, like the beating of one thousand pairs of wings. This time it filled her up so completely she imagined that she had lots of little birds flying through her chest.  As silly as it sounds, to Hinata anything and everything felt possible in that moment. 

It was wonderful, although a small dark flicker passed through her mind. She didn't let it affect her pleasant mood though, after all she did spend so much time carefully weaving her little web. It had taken months for her to carefully weed out the people who were taking her Butterfly from her. Hours upon hours of listening to meaningless conversations, waiting for a phrase that could be twisted around to become insulting or demeaning and then relaying that information back to Y/N in her native tongue. And all of it so that they would realize that she was the only person for them. They didn't need anyone else if she was by their side. 

It was so adorable that they maintained their naïvety throughout their life, but it was also just as dangerous. If she was able to manipulate Y/N so easily then who else would see that and try and take them away from her. Especially because they fell for every word she told them hook line and sinker without suspecting anything at all.

“Yes it is far safer for them to have only me,” she thought as she stroked Y/N's cheek with her thumb. And yet it still weighed heavily on her mind, afterall she was taught that lying to the people she cared for was very, very bad. She didn't like that she was forced to do such a thing to the person she loved more than anything else, but plenty of relationships where one person lies to the other work in movies. After all love is stronger than everyone and everything that would attempt to get in the way of it. Hinata knew that they would be an example of this now that she finally had Y/N all to herself. 

Hinata hummed a soft tune as she picked up Y/N to put them in their bed. They were soon gently slipped under the covers with it, tucked snugly around their body. 

Sitting next to them for a moment Hinata lingered a while, they looked positively delectable afterall. Irresistible in fact. So gathering what courage she had and mixing it with that light floaty sense of contentment she felt, Hinata leaned down and with a soft smile kissed Y/N's forehead as they slept. Torn between wanting to surprise them when they woke up and staying to watch them as they slept; eventually after much deliberation the android stood up to go make them breakfast.

Savouring the moment for a little longer she pet Y/N's cheek fondly, as she thought aloud, “Ino was right, we aren't so different at all. In fact we are perfect together. Copper and iron.”

[all-about-seggs]

The Game of Three-

Rating : 18+, Explicit

Word count : ~ 3K

Pairing : Geto Suguru x female reader x Mahito

Warnings : Mirror sex, dub con, gaslighting ( kind of, like I wanted to add it but not sure if I did it right), Fingering, Cunnilingus, degradation (slight), voyeurism, choking, threesome near the end.

A/n: When describing Suguru's place I totally went into weeb mode and used traditional Japanese terms but I tried to define them to the best of my abilities so y'all won't get confused and I put the link of their pictures in their name as well, so you can check them out if you want.

The red clouds above you parted to reveal the cerulean blue sky, painting the engawa in front of you in its hues. Giving a quick look over to the now clean surface beneath your feet, you made your way to the supply closet to put the mop back.

It's been a few uneventful months since you got employed as one of the only two maids in the entire manor. It was fairly big, atleast for just one person, and minimally decorated so it wasn't that hard to keep the entire place clean even with the two of you. The other maid was a nice old lady who showed you the way around the place and how to do what when you were just starting out.

The manor was quite, most of the time, even with your boss's guests staying over for a couple of days, the place lacked any sort of liveliness much less talking. Just a few more hours until your evening shift is over, you mused to yourself roaming around the garden to feed the pond's fish their dinner as the sun began its descent. Mindlessly, you kept looking around the area until one of the rooms caught your eye. On your right you saw the silhouette of your employer through the thin Shoji door that coverd his room.

Having finished bathing, you saw his toned mascular arms slipping out of his thin bath yukata that contrasted to the one he usually donned, his elegant movements accentuated by the growing darkness the evening provided. His daily outfit was nothing if not modest, covering his body from head to toe, leaving everything to the imagination but right now the delicious shape of his body was on full display, making it harder for you to move.

It wasn't until his form moved closer to the door, that you realised how badly your current actions could effect the job you were given. Just the thought of yourself getting fired after being considered a peeping tom made your breath quicken and not in a good way. The panic surging through your veins momentarily turned your mind blank, making you stumble until the heel of your foot slipped on one of the algae coated rocks. Clenching your butt cheeks you braced yourself for the impact but the efforts proved pointless as the considerably shallow pond's bottom made full contact with your body.

Pain aside, the cold water of the pond was what added most to your immobility until you heard footsteps heading towards you. Looking up from your seated position, the tall figure of your boss, maybe ex boss, loomed over you. He extended one elegant hand towards you.

" Are you okay.....?", His soft tone carried nothing but gentleness but being a mess, both physically and mentally, it took you sometime to process what he had said. Hesitation was clear in your actions as you meekly let him pull you up. His grip on your arm was firm and with how easily he pulled you out of the pond showed his Zephyr-like nature had a brute strength underneath. Threads of wet, black hair covering the sides of his well sculpted face, reached all the way to his mid- back. His usual heavy garb was replaced with a single, cotten yukata which were damp in every places his hair touched.

"Y/n...... Was it?, Can you stand", putting both his hands on your shoulders he peered at your face, you still for a moment, too fascinated by his slitted eyes to look away. This was the first time you two had a real conversation so you forced yourself to speak,

" Oh...umm, I'm sorry! I didn't payed attention to the slippery rocks and fell,.....but I'm okay! So..... Yeah... thank you", it was difficult to keep your voice steady, not wanting to reveal your obviously perverted BUT unintentional peeping. Yup. That's what you kep telling yourself although his secretive smile told you that your poor lie didn't make the cut.

" I see, so tell me y/n dear.....", His hands on your shoulders gripped them a little tighter as he leaned down until his face was right in front of yours, " where exactly were you paying attention to?", The question was simple, nor did it had any threatening undertones but your throat still felt clogged. It was too embarrassing, telling your boss that you were shamelessly ogling at his silhouette changing clothes. One second, two seconds, a lot of seconds passed with you playing dumb until you heard a soft sigh.

" Alright...... If you don't want to tell me, I'll let it go........for now", emphasizing the now, he took your cold hands in his warmer ones, leading you inside his room. You were still drenched, hesitating to climb on the perfectly dry floor of his room,

"It's okay..... I'll go ask for a change of clothes so you sit here, better than the outside right?," Smiling, he disappeared down the hall. The whether wasn't cold, so you didn't have to worry about getting sick but you still reeked of fish and algae, making a change of cloths a better option. You could chid yourself for it but looking at the things in his room can't be considered peeping so you turned around from your sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

His room was relatively normal, just like rest of the manor, the furnishing was minimal, a low chabudai with a few soft looking zabuton around it, a wooden cupboard, the slightly elevated tokonoma on the right side of the room had a full body sized mirror, along with a couple of other tiny decoratives. Nothing stood out with everything in place, your boss sure had simple tastes, you thought to yourself when the door slided again, when the owner of the room itself entered.

He was empty handed , earning a questioning look from you, " it's gonna take a few more minutes to find women's clothing, I hope you don't mind, for the time being....", He walked over to cupboard, producing a towel out of it.

" Use this to dry yourself", handing you the towel he kneeled beside you, he was being so nice, you hadn't expected him to be so kind but you gratefully accepted it. When you began drying your hair, you felt his eyes on yourself, pointed and unnerving. You gulped, feeling like he could see right through your head, just waiting for you to fess up on your own. You were lost in your thoughts when his voice suddenly filled the room.

"You know.....y/n, when you desire something.....", His fingers made their way to your collar, playfully stroking your neck," you should let yourself have it", his last words were nothing but a whisper against your ear as he placed himself right behind your seated form. His upper half of the robe already wet, stuck to his body, defining each and every cut of his muscles. He was somewhere between lean and mascular, his beautiful face giving him just the right amount of sensuality. You weren't naive enough to be oblivious to his suggestive tone.

It was weird to you, perplexing even as to why a clearly well to do, good looking guy would not only make a move on his maid but a maid who smelled like she just popped out of a can of tuna fish. His deep, even breaths stroked your ear as he waited for you to answer.

" I really wasn't thinking about....... 'This'", you pulled his hands wrapped around your shoulders away, to prove your point. You thought he'd be upset but his face only lit up by your rejection.

" Is this embarrassment I see y/n? Because it's not cute", he rose on his knees, looking down at you he gently added, " the mundane world would feel much better if you indulged yourself a bit more you know, even if those indulgences are only of....."

" Sexual nature", his sharp eyes slited as his lips curled into a wicked grin. Impossible to read, his actions did nothing but lure you in a honey coverd poisonous trap. It was obvious with the way his hands started massaging your arms, right where it hurt from your previous fall, blowing softly in your ear. They was all just tricks to make you fall just so he could shame you from above but you'd be damned if it didn't got you all hot and bothered. He grazed his hand across your blouse sticking to your bust, your nipples hardened with the slightest touch. The reactions your body gave were no lies and therefore couldn't be hidden. He pressed your bodies closer until you sat snugly against his torso. You closed your eyes, still unable to decide whether or not you want to let him have his way and deal with all the risks that would soon follow after.

The front of wet your shirt was completely open by now, reveling the garment underneath. Suguru's hands trailed up and down your thighs as he hiked your long skirt higher until it pooled around your hips sticking to the sides. He hooked his left hand under your left knee, doing the same with your right side, he pulled your legs apart, with the mirror in front, you and the man behind you had a full view of your damp panties.

" See that? This is what you want. To be exposed by me. Just the thought of spreading yourself open in front me have you this wet y/n...... Are you sure you weren't waiting for this moment all along?", His voice had a mix of mockery and eroticism in it, his words only adding to the fire burning in the middle of your core. With his right hand, he grabbed the thin strap of your panties at the side of your hips and tore them off until the shredded garment was left dangling on one of your hip. The air in the room, made contact with you now naked pussy but what made you shiver was the mirror in front of you. Suguru held both of your legs as far apart as possible, his face, now lacking all the warmth it had just a few minutes ago. When you tried to squeeze your eyes shut he pinched your inner thighs hard, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

" Keep looking y/n, I'm proving it to you, just how much you're body is begging for me. And I won't stop until you've said so yourself, so keep. Your eyes. Open.," The darkness of his tone was accentuated with the look in his eyes. The fingers of his right hand made their way to your cunt, with two of them he spread your dripping lips apart, reveling the tiny swollen bud that was screaming for attention. You felt it too, the need for release spreading in your body but voicing it meant your defeat so you held your breath, letting the self assured guy behind you continue his ministrations.

" Why can't you be honest just like your needy cunt?", He cooed against your throat as he rubbed your nether lips with his digits, coating them in your slick. He didn't touch your clit, if you were going to be a brat then he's bringing his A game too. Making you beg was his only motive now, his eyes met yours, the mirror in front of you showing every nook and cranny of your privates and by now you're sure Suguru has memorised all of it. The ache between your legs was getting worse as he kept on sliding his fingers up and down your folds but never touching the rest of your sex. You knew what would make him do it but after the prolonged defiance you're not sure how to put it into words.

" Whats wrong y/n, are you ready bow to your filthy desires?, Getting off on my fingers is going to be a lot better than yours right?", Damn his rude ass remarks but they were true, the last few months have been very long and dry for you, day in and day out all work, maybe that's why you're giving in so easily, what he promised was as tantalizing as his actions, that's why you were so horny, easily aroused even.

"Right..... You're .... right, so do it.....master", you broke out, the last of your self control shredding itself as you let your voice flow out just as much as your cunt, your juices.

" Finally gave in huh?, It would've been so much easier if you'd just admitted to being my slut from the start, but oh well, this is also good", his thick fingers slipped in you with ease as he wrapped his left hand around your throat, making you look straight at the mirror. You were a mess, a totally different kind of mess you previously were, in addition to your already damp hair, your eyes were glazed with lust, the corners of your lips moist with your drool that threatened to spill out, your clothes were disheveled and tattered, you were disheveled in general and barely recognisable.

" Now look at yourself closely, how your face twists when I make you cum, how you look when you're begging to me like a real slave," his fingers picked up a brutal pace, going in and out of you relentlessly, his thumb roughly massaging your throbbing clit, sending shivers up your spine. You could clearly see your drool covered face turning hotter by the second, pussy dripping from your buliding orgasm on the tatami mats below it, your moans coming out in broken whimpers as Suguru's hand tighten around your throat, eyes rolling back for a second, you cum around his fingers hard.

" Do you see that ? How disgusting she looks right now?", Turning his gaze to the left he called out to his accomplice in crimes, " Mahito", the other man, with an amicable smile on his peculiar face stared at, not where you lied on the floor, but at your pitiful form that appeared in the mirror.

" I just dropped by to give you the clothes you asked for the young lady earlier," his talked merrily, not minding the scandalous sight in front of him one bit," but it appears that you aren't going to be needing them for a while", throwing the cloths aside he sat on your left side. Suguru kept his eyes on the mirror, loosening his hand around your neck he let you breath, mind still hazy.

" You're free to join in, if you have the time. But I'll have to warn you though, she's a persistent one, it took me a while to break her as well", Suguru smirked, pulling his fingers out of your abused hole making an exaggerated show of bringing his cum smeared fingers to your face, as if prove his victory.

" I don't mind a challenge every once in a while Geto kun, I'm not bad at 'this' myself, but to make sure, why don't you keep sitting, after all it's been a while since touched a living human", Still a bit delirious, it took you a few more seconds than usual to process the change in your situation or what he meant by living just now or touching even. The man named Mahito kneeled in between your still parted thighs, you thought it was strange that your brains last and probably rotting cells decided to focus on his eyes. They were heterochromatic, it gave his already scared face a haunting quality.

The fact that you were sandwiched between two men soon left your mind as Mahito started sucking on your still sensitive clit, your legs instinctively clamping if it's weren't for Suguru holding them apart. The man behind you weren't entirely evil though as he rubbed soothing circles on the soft inner flesh of your aching thighs, his touch only heightning the touch of the man between them.

Mahito licked your juices as if they were made to be feasted upon, slurping on them lewdly, the V of his fore and middle finger seperated your pussy for more access, he grazed his teeth lightly across your clit, fighting the urge to bit it down. You didn't have any energy at this point to put up a show of defiance so you kept moaning, the sight of the man lying flat on his stomach along with his face hidden in between your legs was urging you to cum, but the abrupt thrusting of Suguru's fingers in your mouth cut them off.

" If you're mouth is available enough to scream for just anyone who makes you cum then you truly do have the makings of a whore.", His words were nothing more than a possessive hiss against you throat, long fingers grazing your tonsils as he pushes them deeper. You gag a little, the fingers in you mouth kept you from reacting to the man who worked your pussy until it throbbed against his face.

Mahito turned his heterochromatic eyes towards your face, it seemed like someone was keeping you from your release, he sucked on your clit again adding two fingers in your streched out cunt. He moved both his tongue and digits in similar motions, causing a surge pleasure wash down your senses, with just a few quick pumps of his fingers, your juices gushed on his face as your moans get stifled by the fingers in your mouth.

" That wasn't so bad right?", Mahito pushed himself up as he asked his partner in crime, something about his tone was awfully cocky, making Suguru's face scrunched up in a haughty smirk as he added,

" Indeed, you sure know your way around the human's body Mahito kun, but maybe a little less egar to please attitude would do better. Can't let our toy think we're just here for catering to her needs now can we?", His voice loaded with provocative innuendos sounded nothing but gentle but the other man knew better.

" Hooo?, Is that a challenge for round two, then?", He met Suguru's goading with a playful and assured tone. Both of them stared each other, neither of the males backing down they both turned their eyes at your spent body, and you know even without having to look, that it was going to be a long night.

[13thbaronzemo]

THE EMPEROR'S NEW CLOTHES: PART 2

Baron Helmut Zemo/F!Reader

Rated E (Explicit)

You are the Sokovian custodian of Castle Zemo, which now belongs to the dissolved nation’s neighbors, and the baron himself wants a tour after closing hours.

Disclaimer: This is the continuation of a fanfic written before FatWS: Ep4 aired and set up after his separation from the protagonists and while on the run from the law.

The barony was one of the only refuges left after the day of reckoning at Novi Grad. You just so happened to be one of the Sokovians who found shelter and a purpose there. Others, like your family and the baron’s, weren’t so lucky.

After the loss of your home and your hope, you found yourself trekking towards the ancestral land of the Zemo baronage, the rolling hills and fertile soil passed down from one generation to the next. The gates were already opened when you arrived and a warm meal was waiting for you there. ‘The baron welcomes all,’ the guards greeted you at the gates. ‘Feel free to stay for as long as you need,’ the castle staff sat you down for your first meal. Wanting to thank him for the warm clothes, bed, and food, you asked if he was home. ‘No baron has lived here in decades,’ they answered. ‘No servants either. He only just employed over two dozen people, and I hear they’re bringing two dozen more next week.’ You thanked them instead, for their hard work and limitless kindness. ‘We’ve all lost our homes, too. Lord Zemo offered us a new one.’ That proved to be true for you because even after the Czech Republic claimed this castle and this side of the country, you were still there.

When Haimo laughed at you for allegedly falling asleep in the visitors’ bathroom in the east wing, you had to remind him, while also laughing, that Castle Zemo was your home. ‘I thought you drove here every day,’ he said, shaking his head. You didn’t deny that you had a place of your own which you rented and supposedly lived in. You know, when you weren’t at work. You were always at work, always in the castle. While he was amused, he wasn’t surprised that you supposedly felt sleepy while patrolling the halls. ‘I didn’t see any ghosts, boss, but if you don’t get some rest soon, you won’t stop seeing them.’ And, as you swallowed the taste and breathed in the scent of your ghost, you knew Haimo was right.

The next night, you were walking through the west wing. And, this time, you were doing it in flats instead of heels. After sleeping on everything that transpired and wasn’t transmitted by the cameras to the control room, you were determined to gather evidence of the ghost yourself. At least, that’s what you told the night guard. While they didn’t tease you like Haimo had, you knew they had no choice but to indulge the boss lady's wild imagination. When you made it to the first baron and baroness’s portrait, it was already 3 AM. Your ghost had made an appearance at this exact time two nights in a row. But not tonight. Tonight, there was a ghastly white envelope waiting for you in his place. After plucking the piece of paper off the floor, you read the letter in the silver light of the moon.

My Lady,

It’s been a lifetime since I’ve slept in my own bed. Would you care to join me?

~ Your Lord

As you climbed the stairs to the royal chamber, you felt the fear from yesterday squeezing your stomach. However, you had the punishing pleasure he inflicted upon you yesterday in the form of a pulse in your pelvic area pushing you forward. Yes, even though your thighs were still tender from yesterday, you came back for more.

The door was as creaky as it was heavy, but you only had to open it a crack. As you slipped in, you took in your surroundings. You had become as accustomed to them during the night as you had during the day, but tonight wasn’t just any night. Tonight, the baron himself was in there. Or, at least, you were led to believe that he would be in there.

It was only after closing the door that you even considered the fact that you might be alone or worse: you were alone with a wanted man. Before you could even reconsider, you felt the floorboard dip beneath your feet. Turning to the side, you saw who had shifted their weight on it: the wanted man.

“Thank you for accepting my invitation,” he said, a smirk shadowing his pale face. Then, as if to confirm his own statement, he extended a hand which was, unlike his face, still covered. When you hesitated, he bared both his hands by removing his gloves.

While taking up his offer and his hand, you also take a deep breath. “Whatever you wish, milord.”

“It’s not about what I wish,” he covered your knuckles with his thumb, stroking your skin with the leather. “At least, not tonight. Tonight, it’s all about your wishes.”

Once he started walking, you followed in his footsteps. And, because your eyes couldn’t escape his own, it felt as if you blinked and the bed appeared before you.

“Tell me,” he started talking again, tenderly taking your other hand in his. “What were you hoping would happen tonight?”

“I...I wanted to see you again,” you struggled to keep your hands from shaking. If it was fear or sexual frustration, you couldn’t tell. But, if you had to guess, you’d say it was a little bit of both.

“Me? Or the ghost?” He saw fit to suffocate you by stepping closer and closing in the small distance between the two of you. “You know who I am.”

“I do.”

“Then you know the things I’ve done,” he whispered while his hands slid up your sleeves and squeezed your upper arms. “But do you know the things that I could do to you?”

“I do,” you replied, voice raspy from yesterday. Clearing it, you look up as he leaned in. “And I want you to.” Then, taking another step and squishing your bodies against each other.

Just when you started breathing again, he seemed to have stopped. His dark eyes looked that much darker as he leaned in. “You wish to be at the mercy of a merciless man?” When he started breathing again, it was your air. With his lips so close to your own, you let your lashes fall atop each other and waited. “I need an answer, my dear.”

You didn’t open your eyes, but you did speak. And, as you moved your mouth, you brushed it against his. “Yes, milord.”

Instead of moving his own mouth and locking your lips together, the baron brushed past them to line your jaw with the sharp end of his canines. He didn’t sink his teeth into your flesh until they arrived at your throat. There, they bit down on the sensitive spot below your ear. “I can’t stop thinking about that sweet cunt.”

It was a good thing he had tightened his grip on you, sinking both his fingers and his teeth into you, because your knees buckled. And, if his words weren’t weakening enough, the feeling of him suckling on your skin, his tongue licking the wound and his hot breath in your ear was all it took for you to fall fully into his arms.

“M-milord,” you moaned, not even bothering to lower the volume. He tampered with the cameras as he’d done before, so there's no other soul around to hear you.

“I want to taste it,” he heaved into your ear, hot air hitting the saliva still stuck to your skin. “May I have a taste?” While he wound up one hand around your middle, he shoved the other up your skirt. When his fingers found what they were looking for, he gasped. “What’s this? Nothing in the way? My Lady has been thinking about her Lord, hasn’t she?”

The touch of his fingers was a tease, tracing your labia with the tips before parting it and pushing a single one in between the folds. He was barely inside, but your cunt contracted around the intrusion all the same. You even whined when he withdrew.

“Oh, that pretty pussy’s sopping already.” His mouth moved away from your ear and you could now see it sucking on the very finger he sunk into you earlier. “So fucking sweet,” he groaned. Licking his lips clean of your cunt, he slipped his hand under your skirt again, then the other, and, finally, he picked you up and placed you at the edge of the canopy bed. “I’d like another taste. May I?”

Your answer was to scrunch up your skirt and spread out your legs as you laid back on the covers.

His response was to pin you in place with his gaze as he removed his coat. After tossing it by your side, he kneeled before you. Yes, the baron got on the floor for you. “You’re dripping down here.” He took his place between your legs as his hands held them apart and his head sunk between them. “Don’t you worry, my dear. I’ll lick this cunt clean.”

“M-my Lord,” you stuttered at the sight of him smothering himself between your thighs. You could barely hold them still as the baron began kissing one of them, mouth making its way down to the sweet spot. When his teeth came into play and he teasingly bit the patch of skin connecting your leg to your cunt, you jolted. If it weren’t for his strong hands holding you down, you would’ve fallen off the edge. As a further precaution, you grabbed onto the sheet and held on tight.

At this, he chuckled, lips only a breath away. All it took was a tongue sticking out for him to close the distance, and, once he did, he licked all the way up to your labia and to the hood hiding away a growing bud. "The sweetest," he sighed, blowing cold air against your heated cunt. When his mouth returned, it returned to ravage you. As your thighs twitched and your toes curled and centered all his attention on the clitoris. "I'm addicted," he spoke between your leaking lips. And, when you thought you couldn't get enough of his mouth, he closed it around the swollen nub of skin and sucked it in. Your entire body was bending to the feeling, fingers fidgeting in the sheets and back arching like a bow. "I'll never get enough," he sucked in one last breath before diving back in and delivering the best orgasm of your life. Every single nerve was electrified by him circling your clitoris and only slowing down when your toes finally uncurled.

Before your heart had even slowed its speed and the come started cooling on your cunt, his tongue was already cleaning it up. "Please."

He didn't stop his mischievous ministrations, but he did slow down. "Please what? What is it that my lady wants?"

Your cunt was clamping down on the memory of him. You wanted to make it a reality. Rising your torso while reclining on your elbows, you begged the baron: "Please, my Lord. I want you inside me."

He wiped his mouth on your inner thigh, but his smirk hadn't smudged off. It seemed to stretch, actually. "Whatever my Lady wishes. Now, sit up and take your clothes off. All of them."

Even as you sat elevated before him, he was still the one in command. So, when he asked you to strip, you did as you were told and took off the rest of your clothes. And, as you revealed yourself before him, he ran his hands over each uncovered strip of skin. He squeezed down on your asscheeks and stroked up your stomach. He felt up your breasts and pinched the perked nipples. You'd be his beautiful baroness tonight, he promised you, even as he fondled your flesh like that of a common whore's.

"What is this?" The baron brushed his thumb against the hardened peak of your tit.

"I'm...I'm excited," you sighed, swaying on your feet while trying to stay still. He wished to let his hands wander over every curve and dip and you wished to fulfill his will.

"I know you are, my dear," he retracted his fingers and reached out for something behind you instead. "I was talking about this." When his hand reappeared, he was holding a condom. "You have been thinking about me, haven't you?"

Yes, you have been thinking about him. Was it not obvious from the willingness with which you came to this chamber, the absence of any underwear under your skirt, and the way you lovingly slipped his letter into your jacket for safekeeping? Did he need a condom packet falling out of the same pocket to see how much you wanted to get fucked by him all over again?

Yet "Yes, milord," was all you could say. His touch was torturous, but the absence of it was agony. You wanted his wandering hands back on you, so you slipped your hand down your sides. "Thinking, dreaming, hoping."

"You've also been planning," he stopped you before you could slip a single finger between your folds. "I'd like to imagine you were just as precocious after our first rendezvous when neither of us had any protection." After squeezing your wrist once as a warning and after your hand went slack in his, he released it. "I also never make the same mistake twice." He dug through one of his own pockets for a packet of his own.

"I did," you cleared your voice which no amount of coffee managed to clean off the taste of him.

"Good girl," he smiled, but only briefly. He had to stop playing pretend for a moment and prepare for this like adults. "Make sure you stay good."

You opened your own mouth to speak, to get back into the game, but only briefly. The reply you had on your lips would've been a slip of the tongue that you wouldn't expect any man to forgive. Especially the thirteenth baron who will never get to pass the title to the fourteenth. Even if the both of you were as unprepared as the first baron and baroness had been back then, you couldn't ask him to pretend that pregnancy was even a possibility. It would've been too painful.

While he couldn't read your thoughts, he registered the resignation in your eyes. "What was that?"

"I said," you bit your lip and hoped it looked lustful enough to distract him. "I'll be good."

“You will be.” His smile returned as a full-on smirk and he backed you to the end of the bed. Picking you up, his hands at the back of your thighs as he lifted you off the floor, he then placed you next to the pile of clothing he was about to make taller once he started stripping himself. “Now be good and lay on your back for me.”

You climbed up the bed backward, digging your elbows into the covers until you reached the pillows you fluffed earlier today. The entire bedspread had been professionally cleaned just a few weeks ago, but you chose not to concern yourself with the fragility of the old fabrics tonight. Tonight, you’d be taking Baron Zemo’s cock like a good girl. Like his baroness. And he didn’t even need to order you to open up your legs for him. As soon as he started stripping, they parted on their own. The moonlight did make him glow like a ghost, but it also made his skin look as smooth and strong as a marble statue.

When he climbed onto the covers himself, he took his place between your thighs. Though his hair was standing on edge as his skin was exposed to the chill contained between the castle’s stone walls, his cock was standing at attention and was hot to the touch. He let your unsure fingers secure themselves around his shaft and carefully caress him as if he were one of the ancient and fragile things you cared for. Your featherlight touch made him twitch and his stomach tighten. You’ve had him inside you before, both your mouth and womb, but he was the ghost then. Now, he was flesh and bones to you for the first time. And you got to watch him while his muscles flexed and bulged along with his cock, his face twisted like a mask of both pleasure and pain.

“Say you want it,” he gritted through his teeth, the corner of the condom package caught between them. He pulled on it, peeled it off and you knew that was your cue to remove your hands from his cock so that he can cover it up. "I need to hear you say it, my dear. Say you want me."

"You're all I want," you rasped, running your hands down your thighs, getting dangerously close to your drenched forbidden zone you were denied before. "You're all I ever wanted," you gasped as he grabbed both of your hands, pulled them away from your pussy, and pinned them over your head.

His cock, covered in rubber, but just as warm as before, rested against your inner thigh. He was grinding it against you, teasing you. Tormenting you. "Is this what you want?"

"Yes," You wrapped your legs around his torso, tightening your hold on him and closing the gap between his cock and your cunt.

The baron was barely holding himself back, his hips bucking forward and creating friction. "You want my cock? Why? Haven't you had enough of it last night?"

"No," you stuttered and stared up at him with stars in your eyes. With half of his face in shadows and the other in the moon, you could only see the darkness in his. "No, milord."

"You could have alerted the authorities, but you didn't," he whispered, willing himself to stand still even as you whined. "You could've been a honeypot, lured me in, trapped me inside, and set the dogs on me. But you didn't." Then, he squeezed down on your wrists, securing his hold.

"I didn't."

"Why?"

"I couldn't." You were sobbing, hot streaming running down your chilled cheeks. Exhaustion and exhilaration stirred inside your stomach. "I could've left Castle Zemo a long time ago, but I couldn't." Through the tears, you couldn't see him, but you knew he was still there. You felt his figure looming and his warm flesh against your own. The man who welcomed you into his home was finally home. "If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here at all. Milord, you saved me."

When you felt his fingers loosening around you, you knew you could move your own. Then, with shaking hands, you cupped his face and he whipped yours.

"I saved you?"

"After Novi Grad was destroyed, my home, my whole world, was destroyed as well." You stroked his face, both light and shadows, as he stroked your hair. "You opened the gates for everyone. Everyone. Nobody was turned down."

"A baron's duty is to his barony," he hushed you. "I gave it all to them, to the people. To the state. The state is supposed to be its people, but ours have been sliced up and served to its neighbors."

"Castle Zemo belongs to Sokovia as far as I'm concerned," you smiled and hoped that he could see it. "It's all I have left. It's the only place I can call home."

"Castle Zemo belongs to you as far as I'm concerned," he smiled and you saw it. "My Lady."

And, as his hands smoothened your hair, stroked your shoulders, and slipped all the way down to your hips, your nails scratched into his shoulder blades. The baron had finally fulfilled the wishes of his baroness and began filling her up.

"My Lord," you bit your bottom lip and squeezed your eyes shut preparing yourself for penetration.

He did it slowly, sliding inside one inch at a time and continuing tonight's tormenting trend. You cunt must've been spilling onto the sheets as it was sucking in his cock. When he bottomed out, you breathed in, gasping, as there were no more gaps between the two of you.

When he moved, you moaned, your wet inner walls coming down on his erection as it escaped. Opening your eyes, you saw the space that was growing between you both. Then, he buried himself deep, all the way to the hilt, and you were smothered against each other again. Looking up, you saw his face fighting those same emotions, pleasure and pain.

"No, I'll never have enough, milord," you moaned, making an effort to move your hips and encourage him to do the same. "I'll never have enough of your cock."

"What my baroness wants," the baron grunted, getting up on his knees and pulling your pelvis up on his lap. "My baroness gets." Holding onto your hips, he hurried his own, pistoning in and out at a punishing pace.

"Yes, yes, yes." You squeezed your fists into your sheets for stability, even as the heels of your feet slipped on the smooth surface.

"If she wants to get fucked, then that's what she'll get." The man moved with purpose, pulling your hips while gyrating his own. "She'll get her pretty little pussy pounded."

You tossed your head from one side to the other, eyes rolling at the back of your brain.

He wasn't faring any better, and, feeling his fuse shorten, he issued out another order. "You're going to come for me, my Lady."

"Please, Lord Zemo," you looked to the ceiling and beyond. And begged. "Please."

His right hand ran circles around your clitoris as his left held onto your hip. He fucked you faster, his pace precipitating, his cock stuttering and swelling inside.

"You're going to come for me now," he growled. "Now."

As if his command was heard by your cunt, it collapsed around him, walling his cock inside, pulsing to the beat of your pounding heart. Your back bowed and your chest rolled up as a series of slurred pleased cane pouring out of you.

With your ears ringing and your eyes rolled back, you didn't witness him winding his whole body up and howling as he came.

When you saw him again, he was hovering over you with a heaving naked chest. His face was free of conflict and was filled with nothing but contentment. "How are you?" He whispered, his throat tight. "Are you cold?"

It took a half-dressed baron to bring you to your senses. The girl still shaking from the aftershock of the best orgasm of her life, was caught off guard by the chill that was creeping up on her. The girl was, of course, you. You had matted hair all over your sweaty forehead and your thighs sticky with your own juices. It was a good thing you had him there to help you out, give you a hand as you struggled to sit straight, even if you couldn’t figure out how he slipped on his pants and boots so fast. You didn’t bother to ask, however, and you didn’t even question why he was still there.

Last night, he evaporated into the ether as soon as his crown was sealed in the safe. However, tonight he stuck around to slip your shoes back on, button up your shirt, and even make the bed. It was a domestic scene that should only be played out between partners. While the two of you had your fun fooling around, it was all pretending. Even if he was a baron and the lord of your heart, you were not a baroness, and certainly didn’t rule over anything of his.

“Looks like the royal suite will be closed to the public tomorrow,” you sighed. “I have to get these sheets clean. Again.”

“You’ve done an excellent job keeping this place alive,” he said, coming around the corner from the other side of the bed. “Though, I fear it’s on life support.”

When he was close enough, you craned your neck to search his smirk for any trace of that fear he was talking about. “I won’t let it die.”

“I know you won’t, my dear,” his smirk stretched wider. “Sokovia is its people and I know you won’t let the world forget us, living or dead.” Then, with his lips laying lax, he stroked the side of your face. The glove was smooth as it slid across your skin. “If only there were more like you.”

You cupped his hand as it cupped your face. “There are.”

“Are there?”

“The guards, the shopkeeps, the gardeners, the cleaners, the tour guides. Everyone loving on the barony. They are all Sokovians keeping our legacy alive. Your legacy.”

“My legacy is dead,” he said, convicted. “I buried it when I dedicated my life to killing off the legacy of super-powered supremacists.”

“Then I’ve done a lousy job keeping it alive then,” you said, unconvinced. “I should’ve been hunting down Americans this entire time.”

Blinking as if you had delivered a blow and knocked him off balance, he brought his other hand to the other side of your face. “You know,” he chuckled. “I haven’t met anyone who could give a verbal lashing while sounding this sweet.” Then suddenly, he stopped chuckling but didn’t stop caressing your cheeks. “Not since her.”

You didn’t ask about her, the sweet one with a sharp tongue, because you knew her. Everyone did. The baroness, God rest her soul. There was nothing that you could do for her, or for their son, so you offered your condolences. “I’m sorry.”

He struggled to smile again, but his lips were turned up as he said: “This may be our last night, but this doesn’t mean we should be saying our goodbyes.” Removing both his hands from your suddenly sullen face, he offered one of them to you. As soon as you slipped your hand into his, he bowed his head and gave the back of it a kiss. “Until next time, my Lady.”

While Helmut III Zemo didn’t dissolve into the darkness tonight, he took his leave and let his words linger. Even after you left the castle grounds, as the night gave away to the day, you and his goodbye still haven’t parted ways. You were sure you’d be staying awake, haunted by the hollowness he left behind. ‘Our last night,’ he said. ‘Until next time,’ he contradicted himself.

Your own home felt colder and emptier than before as you opened the door. However, there was something amiss among all the usual mess: a white envelope. As you checked both sides for an address, a stamp, or even a name, you remembered that the mailman doesn't slip the mail under the door. Then, with quivering hands and a quickening heartbeat, you opened it. There was a stack of colorful notes that you let fall to the floor while unfolding the letter. It was a stack of euro banknotes.

My Lady,

How many vacation days have you used this year or the last? If the official records are to be believed, you’ve collected quite a few. By the time you read this, I’ll be on a flight to Ibiza. I’ll be in town for the next couple of weeks. Won’t you join me?

~ Your Lord

[lokiondisneyplus]

SPOILER WARNING: Do not read if you haven’t seen Season 1, Episode 5 of “Loki,” now streaming on Disney Plus.

I think it’s when Alligator Loki ate President Loki’s hand that I realized I was in love.

To be sure, I was always into “Loki,” Marvel Studios’ third Disney Plus series and the first devoted to exploring a single character: the god of mischief as played by Tom Hiddleston. From the first episode, I dug the absurdist deadpan humor imbued by head writer Michael Waldron, and I was immediately smitten with how director Kate Herron employed ’70s sci-fi brutalism and a particularly British affinity for bureaucracy to build out the world of the Time Variance Authority.

“Loki” looked unlike anything I’d ever seen in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, an increasingly difficult prospect given there are now 26 discrete iterations of the MCU — soon to be 27 with the impending debut of “Black Widow.” As the show has progressed, that feeling has only grown more acute as “Loki,” in its exploration of its title character’s identity, managed to carve out its own unique personality not just in the MCU, but also in the grander landscape of sci-fi storytelling.

To put it as simply as I can, “Loki” is a cosmic-yet-intimate time-traveling romantic action comedy about how Hiddleston’s sexually fluid narcissist finally learns how to fall in love with himself — or, rather, the female version of himself who has lived a whole lifetime of harrowing experiences apart from his own. In doing so, the show has proven that not only can the MCU work on television, it can thrive on it.

Marvel Studios’ first Disney Plus series, “WandaVision,” was a fabulous first step onto TV, proving that the MCU, itself an experiment in creating an episodic series of blockbuster feature films, could shrink itself down to the scope of an American sitcom. Its exploration of grief and the restorative power of comfort TV could not have been more relevant to an audience enduring a devastating pandemic. But as it unfolded, the escalating mystery of what was actually happening on “WandaVision” — Evan Peters showing up as Pietro-but-not-actually-Pietro, Kathryn Hahn hiding in plain sight as Agatha, Elizabeth Olsen unwittingly responsible for almost everything on the show as Wanda — began to overwhelm it. Fans and major entertainment news outlets alike began wildly theorizing each week — it’s Mephisto! it’s Magneto! — and the pressure to achieve a Marvel-sized scale, service a wide ensemble of MCU characters, and resolve all its narrative strands made the final episodes of “WandaVision” feel, to some, misshapen.

Marvel’s follow-up series, “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier,” meanwhile, was at once more conventional and more ungainly, with five separate antagonists (John Walker, Karli Morgenthau, Helmut Zemo, Sharon Carter and Valentina Allegra de Fontaine) operating at cross-purposes and overshadowing the two title characters meant to be at the heart of the show and the exploration of being a Black man in America meant to drive it.

“Loki” avoids all of that, because it’s the first MCU show that understands to its bones that the best television is about its characters first, and its story second. The lasting pleasure of longform storytelling is allowing the audience a far deeper understanding of who is on screen than a two-hour movie can allow. That sensibility is already woven into the MCU: Watching Tony Stark, Thor, and Steve Rogers grow and changed over multiple features has been central to the franchise’s unprecedented success. But while Marvel’s conviction to make their shows the same way they’ve made their movies makes sense, it’s also had the paradoxical effect of making “WandaVision” and “FAWS” feel too overloaded with their characters doing stuff than just letting them be.

Each episode of “Loki” does just that. In Episode 1, Loki and Mobius (Owen Wilson, never better?) sit and talk about why Loki does what he does; in Episode 2, they ruminate on the nature of accepted reality while trying to solve the mystery of the variant Loki’s whereabouts. In Episode 3, Loki and Sylvie (Sophia Di Martino, an instant star) spend the entire hour walking through a doomed planet getting to know each other, and casually coming out in the process. Episode 4 is when the story shifts into a higher gear, with Gugu Mbatha-Raw’s Ravonna Renslayer emerging as its true antagonist, but even that episode allowed for several extended scenes of human connection, between Ravonna and Mobius, Loki and Mobius, and Sylvie and Hunter B-15 (Wunmi Mosaku, richer with each episode).

This week’s penultimate episode, “Journey Into Mystery,” introduces several new Loki variants, a critical new location in the Void (the purgatory at the end of time into which all pruned entities are dumped) and a blockbuster movie sized enemy in the monstrous, timeline devouring Alioth (re-imagined somewhat from the comic books). And yet, there’s still time for Loki and Sylvie to sit on a hill, share a conjured blanket and quietly express how much they mean to each other, and there’s also time for Classic Loki (the great Richard E. Grant) to get a deeply satisfying character arc. After explaining how his own existential despair at his lot in life allowed him to live well past his encounter with Thanos, Classic Loki’s encounter with Loki and Sylvie reinvigorates his sense of glorious purpose — and helps Loki to understand he’s more powerful than he’s ever allowed himself to be. It’s a full meal in miniature, and Grant makes the most of it.

All the while, Herron and writer Tom Kauffman work in all manner of delightful alternate reality Easter eggs, from the USS Eldridge (purported to have been part of an experimental cloaking and teleportation device in 1943) to the Polybius video game (purported to be a government psy-ops scheme). More notably, there are also some MCU Easter eggs, including the Thanos helicopter and the Living Tribunal that flit by quickly and appear designed to tickle Marvel die-hards and pleasantly mystify everyone else. And then there’s Alligator Loki, a flawless creature who should be protected at all costs.

There is one blink-and-you-missed-it moment, though, that could be something more, when the Qeng Enterprises logo shows up on the Avengers tower. In the comics, Tony Stark sells that tower to Qeng, which is secretly connected to the same Marvel boogeyman that’s haunted “Loki” from its premiere: Kang the Conqueror. The decrepit house Loki and Sylvie are stepping towards at the end of the episode also looks like it could — could — be Chronopolis, Kang’s HQ in the comics, although the TVA itself could be that as well. In any event, it’s been well documented, here and elsewhere, that Kang could be the entity who is really behind the TVA, especially since “Lovecraft Country” star Jonathan Majors has already been cast in the role and will appear in 2023’s “Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania.”

If “Loki” does introduce Kang in its finale, however, then the show is stepping onto its highest, thinnest tightrope yet. This is supposed to be a show about Loki, not about a villain that, within the world of the MCU, remains a total unknown. It’s a massive risk for any series to bring in a brand new character — let alone the Big Bad! — in the final episode, so this could be another example of an MCU series serving the larger franchise at the expense of its own story. That would be a shame. Sticking the landing, after all, has always been troublesome for TV because TV is so much more about the shared journey than the ultimate destination. And yet, if anyone in the MCU knows how to alight onto safe ground despite impossible odds, it is the god of outcasts, who lives to survive.

“Loki” streams new episodes Wednesdays on Disney Plus.

[dirt-cup-draco]

Bucky x Reader- Yours

a...ging stops at 18 until you find your soulmate so the two of you can grow old together.  d...amage done to a person also translates into their soulmate’s body (cuts, bruises and all) 

Thank you @starofthedawn! love our bucky boi :’)

Time had become something that simply passed you by. The decades skipped and hopped, one to another and you remained stuck in the body of a young woman that had aged far beyond her looks. The soulmates that aged, the ones that found one another, they watched you with pitying eyes as they saw the heavy weight behind your eyes. It was clear the excitement of waiting on someone meant just for you had taken it’s toll and you weren’t sure if you’d ever find that special someone to grow old with. 

It wasn’t just the time that had chipped at the hope you’d held onto in the 1940s when every one of your peers waited for their soulmate and your parents were hoping you’d find yours before even a week passed. Everyone was eager and you had been too. You had wanted to know everything about whoever was out there. At first you hadn’t wanted to, thinking them a troublemaker, but you were certain they were just clumsy. It’s why you always ended up with a nasty shiner that you had to try and ice down or a split lip your mother helped you nurse. 

When the war started gathering up every capable young man across the country you were certain that you’d lose your soulmate, whether by distance or warfare. It was something you feared once- never finding your soulmate. So you had done the only sane, or not so sane thing, you’d offered yourself up to help the soldiers as their nurse. Every night you went to bed relieved that your soulmate had escaped another day seemingly unharmed, besides the deep set ache in your bones but you had soon forgotten if it was his or yours. 

The war had ended and things from there grew more bleak. Surely you’d know if he had been one of the casualties, wouldn’t you? But doubt crept into your mind. You remember laying on your cot one evening when you found a moment to rest, mind gone foggy from the days constant movement and too little time to yourself. You felt like bricks laid out against the stiff cotton and it was a struggle to even twitch your finger. 

Suddenly, the air was knocked from your lungs so forcefully youd choked out a cough just to remind yourself how to start breathing again. Your head began to ache terribly and your arm held a terrible weight to it. You tried to brush it off, you were just tired or maybe your other half was just feeling a bit lethargic that day- nothing serious. You had let your eyes fall shut but your rest was interupted with a vicious burning that made you scream aloud, eyes burning with tears as you clawed at the junction of your shoulder and arm. 

You shuddered, pulling your cardigan tighter around you as you remembered the night you’d felt unimaginable pain. You hadn’t really felt the same since. Disconnected, odd. Maybe it was a sign that he was gone, that you’d be stuck mourning and living out one existence after the other. You’d tried asking, the few willing to share, what it felt like to lose your soulmate whether it be before or after they’d met but no one could truly put the agony into words. 

Every so often you felt dull aches, a sore jaw from clenching too long, a sharp pain at the back of your skull... But it never lasted and as the world rocketed itself into a new age you believed that you were crazy and that these aches were just a phantom to remind you of a love you’d never get to experience. 

“Don’t look so glum,” Your boss Helen laughed, elbowing your side playfully and pulling you from your thoughts as you trudged through the back door. You tore your hat from your head, blowing a lose strand of hair from your eyes as you gave her a grim smile. 

“How could I look anything other than delighted when I know I’ll be in my lovely place of work for ten hours making grumpy people their caffeine fix for the day?” You teased back, a small grin working its way onto your face. Despite the decades spent wondering where half of your heart was, you had still found people and things to love. 

One of those people was Helen and one of those things was her lovely cafe. She’d employed you nearly three years ago and while you hadn’t aged a single day you were beginning to see the slight shift in her. A gray hair or two could be found in her amber locks, wrinkles at her mouth, eyes and forehead making her look...weathered in a way. Like a well loved book. She had stories full of excitement and happiness and more importantly, a soulmate. 

“You’re a brat but you’re my brat, now get out there and work your magic,” Helen commanded and you had to tear your eyes away from her. She was gorgeous, she was happy, she was loved, she was whole. 

The day went like clockwork, you clocked in at 6 and greeted the morning dump of sour sleepy people. The rush got you far enough along that by the time you were done cleaning your station your coworker James had punched in and you were set free to go on a fifteen minute break. It went too quickly and then you were half goofing off and half doing dishes until you took a lunch, your feet aching in your shoes but your mind gone pleasantly numb. 

Work kept you from the sink hole that had appeared in your chest. 

You hummed a tune, one always stuck at the back of your mind that played when you let yourself sink into the comfortable rhythm of cleaning the plates returned to you by customers who needed a nutritious or indulgent pick me up with their daily espresso or latte. The clouds had blanketed the sky and there was a familiar chill in the cafe that made the warm sink water lull you even further into your peace of mind. 

Now seven hours into your shift you were feeling eager to get home and kick up your feet but anxious to experience the dread that eventually seeped in. Your company had been enough for decades, or you had learned to let yourself be enough, but it didn’t end the longing of wanting someone there who knew you better than you knew yourself. 

“Y/N!” Came Jame’s clear as a bell voice, the echo of his tenor bumping against the glass wall you’d built in your mind to keep everything out. 

“Whatdya want?” You hollered to the front of the shop, drying off a mug as you took a few steps through the archway. James was at the back of the shop, cleaning up a spill and there was a customer hovering near the front counter. Their head was bent low and their shoulders hunched up to their shoulders. They wore a hoodie over their head and their hair cloaked their face, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger but realized the man at the front must be why James had called for your help.

 “Oh!” You exclaimed, setting the cleaned mug on the edge of the counter as you approached the register. “S-sorry, what can I get for you?” You stumbled over your words and had to shake your head. It seemed you’d gotten a little too lost in your thoughts as you had trouble coming back to the present. 

“Anything with caramel,” Came a voice that warmed you from the inside out. Your eyes snapped out and you found you were trapped by icy eyes that held nothing but a gentle shyness in them. The stranger was strong, his appearance almost intimidating, but behind the curtain of thick hair was an almost boyish face. But yet it was his eyes that you kept going back to as you tried to remember where you even were.

They were the loveliest eyes you’d ever seen, but they were the saddest you’d ever encountered. You didn’t think you’d ever see such a lost look on anyone other than your own reflection in the mirror. Your heart stuttered uncomfortably in your chest and you fumbled to take the man’s order on the register. You gave up completely and spun around on your heel once you realized you’d been staring too long. 

In your sudden movement though you had caught the edge of the already forgotten mug and it toppled to the ground. 

“Fuck!” you cursed, immediately dropping to the ground to pick up the shards. You felt too warm, your head foggy and body floating yet heavy. Your chest was tight and you couldn’t put a name on the feeling. Maybe you were having a heart attack. You’d gone too long without a soulmate and time had finally caught up to your ageless body. 

You were once again trapped in your mind as you fumbled with the sharp pieces, inhaling sharply as you cut yourself. 

“Double fuck!” You whined, squeezing your finger tight, trying to stop the flow of blood as you dropped the pieces back to the floor. 

“Jesus, Y/N, you feelin’ alright?” James asked, coming to your side. You simply nodded and popped your finger into your mouth. 

“H-he wants caramel,” you said airily, nodding back to the stranger but when you looked back at him his eyes had gone wide, hood pulled back from the top of his head. You were nearly about to ask if he’d seen a ghost but then you saw the liquid ruby gathering at the tip of his own finger. The same one you had cut. 

Your breath had been stolen from your lungs and your legs went out from under you as you sank against the counter behind you. 

“Y/N?” Helen asked, the commotion grabbing her attention all the way from her office. “Sweetheart what’s wrong have you eaten? Can I get you-”

“I- um just thinks she’s a little in shock,” Came that lovely voice once more and you felt a bit more grounded. He was much closer now, having come around the counter, brushing his cut finger against his jeans. It was only now you noticed one of his hands caught the light and revealed a prosthetic. 

Your shoulder suddenly ached with memories and your eyes welled up. “Where have you been?” You croaked, hands shaking and knees still weak. 

He sank down to kneel in front of you, ignoring both Helen and James’ protests to be mindful of the shattered mug. His calloused hands were large and gentle as they gathered yours up. His own eyes grew misty as he took you in. 

“I know I’m late, it’s a long story so why don’t I just start with a hello?” He asked, helping you to your feet. 

You laughed a bubbly and nearly hysterical laugh that made you feel lightheaded all over again but he just held on tighter to you and you never wanted to be let go again. “Maybe you could start with your name too,” You teased and you felt nearly as breathless as you’d been the night you’d only known pain. 

You supposed that was going to be a part of his long story and your heart ached already at the thought of him experiencing any of what you’d only felt a fraction of. 

“I’m Bucky, and what can I call a beautiful gal like you?” Bucky grinned, his flesh hand releasing your arm so he could brush his fingertips against your cheek in wonderment. 

“Yours, I’m all yours,” You choked out, a watery grin painted onto your face.

Time had become something that simply passed you by, but now you were ready to begin the rest of your life.