#he is not ready to be a grandpa guys
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Febuwhump Day 18
@nancyheart11 you asked me for a Twilight Whump for this one, so I did my best! He wasn't talking, but it's a little tastier with the spice of another perspective >:)
I hope you enjoy!
Rating: Gen
Wordcount:
Summary: They talked about wandering off alone, but that doesn't exactly stop certain people (AKA Twilight) from not doing it again. Maybe Warriors is taking it too personally, but Mask's pup is giving him a headache. He just wants all his little brothers safe in one place, is that too much to ask?
(Note: I have not proof written this. My apologies, but half my keys aren't working, so typos are probably there.)
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They do not run off alone, they just don’t! It’s not so much a rule as something that everyone understands, so why in Hylia’s name is it still so hard for the others to actually do? Warriors resists the urge to hiss at himself; he is not Mask or Wild, he is not a feral little creature that can’t use his words, but by Hylia’s Wings does he wish he could get away with it sometimes!
They’d talked about this! Not at length, and yes, his opinions had been very quickly dismissed in favor of discussing the ability of their enemy to shapeshift, but he’d expressed his disapproval with running off alone in the middle of a battle!
But who really listens to him anyway?
No, the captain stops in his tracks for a moment to shake off that thought, that’s not fair. Most of the other heroes listen. For Wind it’s second nature, and Time too, most days, listens without thinking about it. Even as an adult, the other respects his experience in leadership and knowledge of fighting and working with others. Four, even for his faults when it comes to actually working with and not simply around other people, still hears him out when he speaks. Sky and Hyrule both respect him for his title of knight and the work he’d put in to earn it, and even Legend, who despises soldiers, will respect his decisions and follow the plans he’s set. Yes, there's some disconnect, which is to be expected when working with a new team of people that aren’t accustomed to each other just yet, but they’re trying. Most of them are trying.
Twilight and Wild are their own story.
The captain’s teeth saw against each other as he ducks through the underbrush, following the faint trail left by big paws and the even bigger tracks of a moblin. How can a person be so determined to keep others in line and behaving, to keep others in the group safe and obeying the rules, and yet they themselves trod all over them?
Granted, he is also currently separate from the group, wandering off alone, but he’s not the only one and everyone else knows what he’s doing. He’s tracking Twilight while the rest collect themselves and make camp. Wild had offered to do it, but after the last time, he just can’t trust the kid to actually come back; Wild’s proved where his loyalties lie, and it’s with the rancher, not their group. When asked to make the choice, they all know what it would be.
He told the champion to stay.
He doesn't know if he’ll be listened to, since that’s also the other point of struggle here, but he’s done all he can. He’s a good tracker, used to picking up the slightest sign of enemy activity, and his reasoning of being their current medic and thus the best choice in the case Twilight had gotten injured in some way, seems to be reason enough for most of the rest. There’s offers of course, to have someone go with him as backup, but looking over the tired men and boys in camp, he turns them all down. They need the rest, and time to recover from their own injuries and exhaustion. As a soldier, he’s been trained to push his limits, his exhaustion, his pain, his physical abilities, and ignore all barriers until his assignment is completed. The others may be heroes, ones who’ve faced odds that soldiers could never imagine, but they’re not likely to have experienced that sort of pressure and he wouldn’t want them to.
They need their rest. He can get his once his duty is done.
Now if only Twilight wouldn’t make it so hard by having wandered off to Nayru knows where!
A hand drags through his hair, disrupting it, but it doesn’t matter. Yes, there’s a small voice that hisses to fix it, one that sounds a bit like Proxi, but these heroes care even less for how he looks on any given day than for what he says.
Still being unfair, Link. They aren’t all bad. They’re good kids.
Sure, they’d probably all take offence at being called kids but that’s what they are! The youngest are very young and even Time, their eldest, still looks to him through force of habit for guidance and aid. At most, he’d say the oldest most of them could be is twenty, early twenties for the rancher and skyloftian, but that’s still young enough to still be tripping over themselves in an effort to understand adulthood. They are, in his mind, still kids, and they’re mostly good ones, so he really can’t go lumping them all together as not giving a darn when they very much do. Not about his looks, thank Hylia, but about what he has to say? Most definitely.
Again, it’s just Time’s pups who don’t.
Goddesses, they take after their old man to an extreme level! It feels like just yesterday he was chasing down the little scamp, explaining the importance of comradery, of trust, of teamwork. Just yesterday, he was tilting brilliant blue eyes up to meet tired ones and asking, nearly begging, for the kid to please just give his way a chance.
He sort of doubts such methods will work on his kid’s much older pup though.
Twilight and Wild are similar in that they are stubborn, but they’re also much older than Mask had been, and neither is desperate for the stability the young boy had sought. They have Tie and each otehr, their own little bubble, separate from the rest of the heroes, and while both have an obvious respect for his skill, that’s about where their respect for him ends. They don’t look up to him, don’t admire him, don’t see him as anything more than another hero in their group, which is nice as far as not needing to babysit them goes. He’s glad that they don’t need him to keep an eye on them, that they’re stable enough mentally and in their perception of themselves that they don’t need someone else to support them, and if they do, they’ve already found that in each other. Still, having even the smallest of ways to get through to either of them would be nice.
He’d thought that experience with the army would help connect him with the champion, that maybe a bond with Time could be something he could connect with the rancher about, but so far, no dice.
His feet skid slightly on some leaves, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. Right, he needs to find Twilight. He can worry about driving home the idea of not running off alone when he’s sure the other is still alive. Granted, they didn’t see the black lizalfoes, or anything they think might have been another form of the beast, in this last battle, but it doesn’t take the most powerful of monsters to lay a hero low, especially if they don’t have anyone to watch their backs.
The paw prints change to boot prints with the same seamlessness as they’d become paws at the beginning of the trail, and blood, crimson not black, spatters on the ground in an arc that indicates a swinging blade right where the moblin’s feet shift into a spin to face its pursuer. The trail of blood falls to the left of the trail, which means it could be delt by the left-handed hero or by the opposing monster, but considering the sudden turn, his money is on the rancher being the injured party here.
By habit, his hand falls to his bag, assuring himself he’s got his med kit close at hand.
By the three, these boys could save themselves so much pain if they just covered each others’ asses! Next time they get to the ranch or any place where they can stop for a little, he’s asking Time to help him arrange a training session for these kids. Maybe with their unofficial leader’s support, he can even get the two pups in on the session. As is, he’s sure Wind and four will be willing, and Sky will most definitely be his most valuable asset in teaching them. Good grief, whatever the Knights Academy on Skyloft is teaching, they're doing a great job, because that boy melds seamlessly in with whomever is closest to him!
That may or may not be why he keeps close to the skyloftian, but who can blame him for wanting the assurance of having someone to watch his back when he’s so busy trying to keep an eye on all the others all the time?
Twilight could have used the same, and blood specks along the trail as he goes. The steps become distorted, shuffling over each other in what’s clearly a break from the chase to fight. Here though, seven or eight paces from the initial blood spatter, more footprints join the mix. A bokoblin- no, two of them. The rancher’s steps disappear for a short moment, but with some looking around he finds them again. A flip or a throw landed him behind his foe, but he’s pushed back, heels dragging as they shuffle backwards into the woods as the enemy presses forwards against him.
More tracks join the mix; an ambush.
He grits his teeth, pushing forwards, ignoring, for the most part, the trail of the monsters in favor of following boot prints that press heavily to the dirt at the heel and toe, running, now pursued rather than the pursuer. The rancher will have known to try and limit the area of approach from his foes by darting into the trees. At best, he’d have circled around to pick them off from behind, but the prints don’t indicate as much. The speed of the different monster types will change have changed the tides of the fight though, with the bokoblins moving faster, prints fading out entirely as they likely fell and faded to miasma, leaving behind a moblin trail that continues, joined by more of its kind. He’d estimate at least three, maybe five of the creatures.
Not great odds for one already injured rancher.
He picks up his own pace. There’s no sounds of battle ahead or anywhere close by, not that he can hear. Granted, cannon fire in the war has definitely damaged his hearing enough that he could just be missing it, but he chooses to believe that there’s nothing, if only in the hope that Twilight will somehow be headed back along the trail towards him already, instead of being even further out, still in the middle of a fight.
He doesn’t stumble across the rancher walking along the path though. No, he follows the fight, the footprints, trailing through the trees until there’s nowhere else to go. A wall of earth, steep enough to be a struggle to climb for anyone currently being chased, rises up and the footprints spin about to face those following after. He doesn’t keep track after that though, because the moment he sees fur and brass armor that catches the fading light, he knows his search is done.
“There you are, rancher.”
The urge to steal Time’s thunder and call the other man a pup- not with the affection of the now older man but with all the ire of its original connotation among his own people, is strong, but he resists. That would be considered out of line without context, and he doubts Twilight even knows the source of the nickname he so values from his mentor.
Knowing it means a young person who’s annoying but not yet unbearable, yet, would probably kill some of that magic.
So, he bites his tongue, keeps his impulses to himself, and moves to the side of the younger man, who’s currently slumped against a tree, breath strained but still there as dark eyes, a shade or so darker than Time’s own, flutter slightly with an effort to stay open.
“Cap’n?”
Darker or not, there’s definitely a lot of Time- of Mask, in the rancher’s face, and it makes staying mad with him a bit of a challenge when he’s looking so pathetic. “Got yourself in quite the situation, haven’t you,” he hums, kneeling at the younger’s side and taking his time with a once over. The rancher’s tunic has taken damage, but his concern is where crimson leaks from the tears, not where blades have slashed through only to be halted by chain mail. Yes, the bruising won’t be fun, but his concern is something he can fix, anything that Twilight will actually need help with.
There’s a wince from the other. “Not my intent.”
“Never is,” he unclips the bag from his belt, eyes falling on a nasty looking gash just below the cut off of the chainmail’s sleeves. There are some light scratches over browned features and an injury to the leg that leaks slowly into the earth below, but the rancher’s armor looks to have done its job well.
“The others?”
“Fine.” He keeps his attention on slipping the bracer from his brother’s arm, on unbuckling and sliding away the leather, the underlying glove, and then rolling up the sleeve to get at the injury he needs to treat. Wound care fills his mind, not answers, not talking. That can come once he’s assured that the other is alright. Much as the man drives him mad, he’s still Time’s kid, and still a fellow hero, still a brother, still someone who doesn’t deserve to suffer just because he’s particularly good at being stupid and reckless.
“Wild?”
“Fine.” He repeats, sucking in his cheeks as he sees the damage done without fabric blocking the way. Claws do so much more damage than blades, and the chances of infection are higher too. Not as much as with bites, but it’s still not preferrable.
“The kids?”
He huffs, turning to grab for his kit, looking for anything he might have to quickly clean the wound. “You’d know if you didn’t run away mid battle.”
Hurt crosses sloping features briefly, not for the prodding at the wound site, but from his sharp tongue. Regret stirs briefly at his heart, but like his ire, he pushes it down to keep his head clear and his mind focused on his work as their team’s current medic.
“Yer upset.”
The urge to tell the kid ‘no shit’ is very strong, but he bottles up that too. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the wound, on wiping it down and looking for anything that might have gotten into the cut.
Twilight’s ears flick back, not appreciating having his words ignored. If there’s one thing the rancher is accustomed to, it’s answers when he speaks. Wild always answers, Time too even if it’s not verbal, and the younger ones always respond to. Being met with silence, both verbally and in body language, must be new to him. “Did somethin’ happen?” And when he still doesn't answer, “Wars, what’s goin’ on?”
“They’re fine, now hush.” It’s a deep cut. Not as bad as the axe wound, but not light by any means either, and it will need stitches. He keeps his needles in a bottle, clean and ready for use, for this reason. Mask used to fuss that it was a waste of a good bottle, and the thought lightens his heart just slightly as he pulls it out and grabs the needed supplies to close the wound in the rancher’s arm.
“No, Wars-” there’s a straining from the body beneath his hands, but Twilight doesn’t successfully pull himself up, and his face flashes white for a moment before he slumps again. It seems the mighty rancher has spent all his strength in fighting alone, nothing left to use to so much as sit up by himself.
“Stay still,” he sighs, pushing down, entirely unnecessarily, against a shoulder. It’s for the sake of the man’s pride, he tells himself, to pretend to play along that twilight can get up on his own right now. “Let me work.”
Work and bottle up his frustrations enough that he can talk afterwards.
Twilight, however, has no such intentions of likewise staying silent. “Captain, what’s goin’ on?”
“I said stay still.”
“Are they hurt?” Blue eyes bleed worry, the same desperation his mentor used to let slip, sometimes still does when it’s his pup in trouble or hurt. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Why are you actin’ like this then?”
The urge to growl again rises, and again he shoves it down with pursed lips and clenched teeth, focusing his energy on starting the stitches and hoping the pain of them will be enough to distract the younger man from his line of questioning. It doesn’t work though.
“Wars?”
“Twilight,” his voice snaps without his allowing it, eyes flicking up to meet midnight blue, “I’m trying to focus. Stitches aren’t easy, believe it or not.”
They’re familiar and he’s done more stitches in his life through human flesh and zora scales than his baby sisters have in their needlework projects that Maither gives them. He won’t admit that though, not if it gives him an out from having to talk. Honestly, some days, he really misses having Proxi around to speak for him when he’s stressed. She was always much better at that sort of thing than he was.
Twilight falls quiet at his words though, but he still feels those eyes fixed on him, searching his face even as their gaze is broken with a flinch or a huff of pain as the needle pressed through flesh and pulls the two edges of the cut together. He has to stop a few times to dab away blood and clear the area for the next stitch, but he’s quick about his work. In and out, twisting the thread together to close the wound, moving on to the next stitch and watching as the flesh pulls together again over where blood leaks out.
He's done before he’s ready to talk again, but bandaging is something they’ve all done, and he can’t say that actually takes so much focus as to stop him talking, and Twilight knows it, already pressing again with the questions. “Wars-”
A scoff escapes, puffing hair out of his eyes to clear them, even though having it to hide behind would be much more preferable. “You really are Time’s pup, aren’tcha?”
A tick. “What does that mean?”
He ties off the ends of the linen wrap, tight enough to hold but not so much as to cut off circulation. “You’re a worrier and a fuss pot.”
Heavy brows crease in answer, but Twilight doesn’t actually have a foot to stand on when it comes to opposing his words. Instead, the rancher just stares at him, waiting until Warriors turns his attention to the injured leg, arm finished.
It’s only once he’s gotten a start on treating the cut there (this time from a blade) that the rancher’s voice rises again, guarded and wary. “You’re mad at me,”
He doesn’t answer.
Rather than guess why, Twilight pushes ahead. “I couldn’t let that moblin escape. We don’t know what’s out here, and letting it terrorize a village jist wouldn’t do. You know that, Wars.” When there’s no answer though, the country accent keeps rolling, pitching slightly, straining. “There was a whole ‘nother camp out here, one that might have attacked us in the night!” And then, when still no answer sounds from his lips, “You would have done the same.”
“I would not.” He clips, snipping his thread and briefly glancing over at wide eyes. “I would have attended to my men and then pursued the enemy when we, as a team, were capable of doing so Wandering off on my own is what nearly lost us the war. So, as a rule, I won’t be doing that again unless I absolutely must.”
That shuts the rancher up, recognition dawning in midnight eyes that falter and fall as he turns his attention back to tending wounds.
There’s no more pushing done by either party, and it’s quiet as he works save the hisses and hitches of the younger man’s breath in pain as stitches are laid and bandages wrapped. That done though, the quite is almost overwhelming, even to him, and he finds himself sighing at it, crouching before his pup’s pup and resisting, with a lot of effort, the urge to hook a finger under the other's chin and lift that gaze to meet his own, like he’d done with his own kid what feels like only yesterday. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, but gentles his gaze all the same. It’s not that hard, not when faced with familiar features drawn up in a soft scowl that, were it Mask, he’d teasingly call a pout. “I’m not mad,” a disbelieving look meets his own at the words, but he pushes his tone a bit firmer with the next ones. “I’m frustrated, but we can work over that later, preferably after we’ve all had dinner and some rest. For now, we should head back to the others, before your cub starts thinking we’ve dropped off the face of the world or something.”
A furrow forms between dark brows, too sharp teeth, wolf teeth he muses to himself, gnawing at the other's cheek lining. It’s a bad habit, and he’s sure the man knows it, but he doesn’t correct it. That’s not his place.
He can guess what’s troubling Twilight though. “Can you stand?”
A huff, a little smile that’s flustered enough he can guess the answer. “Not really.”
He knew it. He doesn’t hold it against the other though, instead, shifting to kneeling at the man’s side, shuffling about as he must before giving a waring of his intent. “I’ll carry you then.”
Alarm flashes clear as day over the rancher’s face. “Cap, I don’t-”
“I’m stronger than I look,” he assures, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. No doubt, twilight’s staring at his slighter frame and remembering his own bulk, but honestly, he’d served for years in the army. If he couldn’t haul an injured soldier any distance, he wouldn’t be worth the rupees he earns.
Getting Twilight up on his back with no help from the weakened rancher or anyone else is a bit of a mess, and there’s some slipping and struggle which the rancher no doubt sees as proof that this is no good, but despite protests, he keeps at it until the other is slung over his back. Twilight is heavy, much more so than the other boys would be, but it’s not his first time hauling an Ordonian to safety, and the bulk of his brother just means he moves a bit slower than he would otherwise.
Twilight’s grip around his neck is weaker than is ideal, but in the long run, it’s probably better that way, because it means his breath doesn't get cut off as he heads back to camp.
Like he said, once they’re there, when they’ve had something to eat, and probably after the rancher downs a potion from his cub’s bag, they’ll need to talk. This time, he will not accept having them change the subject or redirect. This time they will discuss going off alone.
After though. After they’ve had time to catch their breath. And he supposes, shaking his head, after Twilight wakes up again from the doze he’s apparently fallen into.
Good grief, the man even snores as loud as his mentor!
#asks and answers#linked universe#linkeduniverse#lu warriors#lu twilight#febuwhump2024#febuwhump#ketto writes#dad warriors#he is not ready to be a grandpa guys#but is very weak to the puppy children in this group#he will not admit it#but he is#yes i am referencing the update like a madwoman#it's free warriors and twi angst though!#can you blame me?
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I
<3
In between arc (kinda) episodes
Pt. 3
#so MOMOS GRANDPA IS ALIVE??? AND PLUTON IS HERE SO ROBIN LIED TO CROCODILE IN ARABASTA! QUEEN#THE NEW ADMIRAL JUST KILLED QUEEN AND MAYBE KING (PLEASE DONT!!) AND IS CALLING FOR A WARSHIP TO KILL LUFFY#oh luffy grabbing kid akdhaksj reluctant friend maker they call him... wdym youre going to kill me... come here lets smush cheeks#luffy is such a humble king.... also why am i crying here thinking how everything is so brautiful (and otsuru is alive) and i have to find#out buggy is a yonkou. what the hell did he do against the marines akdbaisbsks ????? HOW????#ofc luffy is obvious.... also the admiral could roam arund wano a little and grow some plants all over... it is needed after all...#take a breath.... meditate what you're going to do...#talking tag#watching one piece#episode 1080#also why is jinbe in there alone??? also i thought pluton was nika but pluton is in wano??? metaphorically yes.... my theory is in shambles#SHANKS???? 'momo and hiyori must have grown' well... recent update actually...#yamato got him!!!! fuck yes!!!#yasopp isnt ready to see usopp???? well boohoo... also why does this guy care about kid... nvm shanks got his arm i forgor xd#so shanks new about the fruit.... bc not even whos who knows...#barto burning shanks flag omg akdhsks#SABO KILLED COBRA???? that has to be a setup.... kuma escaped!!!! sabo is more popular than dragon somehow??? its bc he actually does stuff#MOMO CAN MAKE FIRE?? well kinda... shanks goes for the one piece.... what's in the air??? like you didn't have time before???#once again i <3 in between arc episodes.... i love getting fed new info....#nami new sharpshooter usopp step aside... and with one hand only... oh nvm.... it is rigged then#episode 1082#law and robin ponebesties.... jack gyojin???? also that is such a way to construct a city... wth RED PONEGLYPH!!! 3/4!!!#opening the frontiers frees the weapon.... inch resting also did luffy talk to him??? yamato could hear him because of the king's haki???#what is up with shank's haki.... jesus christ.... they were just watching lmao luffy can feel shanks omg.....#did he just leave or does he need the poneglyph still???#episode 1083
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buying car insurance tonight so i can finally register my car
#i need my car to be road ready by christmas for two reasons#the first reason being that i’m seeing my boyfriend’s parents on christmas eve and last time i saw them his dad asked if i was driving the#car yet and i said no and he was like no??? so i can’t do that again lol#also i’m going solo to my aunt’s house for christmas this year so i need my car so i don’t have to go in my dads smelly ass car#an old stagnant water bottle burst in his trunk and he didn’t do anything about it and now his car smells like a piece of fucking shit#a 2016 car and he’s ruining it#moron#ANYWAY#usually since my boyfriend and i did thanksgiving with my family we would both be with his family on christmas#but since my grandpa was in the hospital on thanksgiving i decided i should go to christmas#he was very happy when i told him this#i have a lot of like..idk bad feelings toward my grandpa but for whatever reason he loves me#idk lol i don’t get it#he’s an asshole but also a nice guy it’s so hard to explain lol#anyway who fucking cares why am i wasting my time typing this out#sometimes i really just need to get my thoughts out of my brain even if no one is reading them
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Hi, I love your pet series its different and it’s so cute and funny to me. I wanted to requested a pet duck (the white ones) with Lance cause there’s just something about him but he seems like the type that would have a duck. (The image in my head is taking me out! 😂)
Thank you 🫶
okay took a different approach with this one so... lance is a rich boy, has grown up in luxury. His country loving gf changes that -- aka lance x lowkey cottagecore girlie
y/nl/n
liked by mickschumacher, and 94,182 others
y/nl/n ... we moved
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username1 only y/n could get lance to move to the countryside
username2 omg sleepy lance he's so cute
username3 how long until they have a literal farm?
username4 man is whipped
username5 get yoself a man who buys you your dream house when its the opposite of his aesthetic
username6 'opposite of his aesthetic' lmao
lance_stroll i love our little house
y/nl/n
liked by lance_stroll, and 102,457 others
y/nl/n first addition to countryside life
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username7 pls pls pls get cows
username8 lance with a dog im soft af
username9 can't wait to see what you guys get next!!
fernandoalo_oficial your next pet should be named after me
y/nl/n agreed
lance_stroll agreed
y/nl/n
liked by lance_stroll, and 105,674 others
y/nl/n lance and I should not be trusted with money
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landonorris lmao shouldn't be trusted with money
y/nl/n we're not ready for responsibility
lance_stroll speak for yourself i love our daughters
username10 omg their daughters i can't
username11 what are their names?
y/nl/n we named them after the grid, the one with the heart on her head is mick
username12 what's next?
username13 omg they need a farm cat
y/nl/n
liked by lance_stroll, and 135,968 others
y/nl/n i call them lance's ladies
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username14 omg they're lances ladies
lance_stroll oh my ladies look so good
y/nl/n thank you, lancey poo
lance_stroll ... my ducks
username15 where do I find a lance?
y/nl/n he's for sale if you want him
lance_stroll if i leave my ladies are coming with me
y/nl/n love you lancey
y/nl/n
liked by lance_stroll, and 163,540 others
y/nl/n lance's girls get treated so good
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lance_stroll that's all my girls (including you)
username16 id do anything ANYTHING for lance stroll to call me his girl
username17 am i more jealous of y/n or the ducks
username18 idk im swaying towards the ducks
username19 does grandpa stroll ever visit the farm babies?
username20 acc the cutest family
username21 has the rest of the grid met their animals yet?
username22 idk i feel like mick or esteban have
y/nl/n
liked by lance_stroll, and 230,058 others
y/nl/n lil slice of heaven
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username23 ugh they're living their best lives and im here for it
username24 seb really rubbed off on lance
username24 WHEN DID THEY laGET CHICKENS AND WHAT ARE THEIR NAMES
lance_stroll next im gonna get you a pony
y/nl/n omg really? 👉👈 lancey poo i love youuuuu
lance_stroll but also lets get more ducks
y/nl/n deal
#lance stroll#lance stroll imagine#lance stroll x reader#lance stroll fluff#lance stroll smut#lance stroll x you#lance stroll x reader smut#ls18 imagine#ls18 x reader#ls18#f1#formula one#f1 imagine#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula one imagine#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine
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Chapter 23 - The Dutch Anthem on Repeat
Guys, I think I can finally upload on a regular basis if I can do every Friday and Wednesday? If that's ok? I'm hoping that it will work well for everyone!
This chapter made me laugh, and I remember someone asking for more Grandpa Nando so he makes a good appearance in this one!
Like always, comments, questions, concerns, reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Please enjoy!
Max, along with everyone, was used to hearing the Dutch National Anthem. Sure, everyone joked that it was the Formula 1 outro, but that was life. It wasn’t Max’s fault that he kept winning. Everyone just needed a new and better car to keep up. As he walked into the garage, he knew he was expecting to possibly hear it at the very end of Sunday.
What he didn’t expect was when his foot hit the concrete, the song started blasting through the speaker. The mechanics were trying to hid giggles behind their hands as they watched the confused driver try to find where the sound was coming from. When it suddenly stopped, he got even more confused.
He looked at the mechanics.
“Have you seen the kid anywhere?”
Henry, one of the men that worked on your car, responded, “She’s been in her room since she got here this morning.”
Max let out a tight “thanks” before heading that way. He expected you to be hiding something, but you were peacefully taking a nap with your headphones on. The gag gift that he got you, a blanket with his face all over it, was curled up in your hands. His eyes softened as he walked over to gently wake you up. You did promise him lunch for that day.
He rocked you a bit until you woke up.
You rubbed your eyes as you sat up. “Hey Max.”
A yawn escaped your lips.
“Kid, you don’t have anything to do with the fact that the Dutch anthem played when I walked in?”
“Huh?” you questioned, still really sleepy.
Max just let it go. You seemed like you didn’t know what was going on. You quickly got ready, placing your race suit at your hips.
When Max’s foot hit the concrete again, the anthem started to play. A groan left his lips as you looked around.
The Dutchman looked down at you. “You had nothing to do with this?”
You looked up at the older driver. “Nico took my boombox privileges away when I scared him last week.”
You seemed pretty dejected at the thought of losing your boombox.
Max just quickly kept walking out of the garage with you on his tail. The two of you conversed as you made your way to hospitality. You knew that Max had the priority for this race. It was his second home and you knew he wanted a win after what happened in Belgium.
“So I’m thinking of holding a party after Monza at the house. What do you thing?”
Max thought for a moment.
“That’s a good idea. You going to take a car to the circuit.”
You beamed at him. “Thinking of bringing the spaceship. What do you think?”
Max opened the door to the hospitality, and before he could answer, the Dutch anthem started to play once again. He stopped dead in his tracks, causing you to thud into his back.
You snorted as you heard the song play, causing Max to whip around.
His eyebrow arched. “Sure you don’t have anything to do with this?”
You only shook your head before pushing past him, wanting to get lunch as quickly as possible. Max followed, suspiciously glaring at anyone who looked guilty.
Lando was sitting in the corner, animatedly telling a story to Oscar, who looked dead inside (but was politely listening).
In the middle, Lewis, Charles, and Carlos were all playing on their phones, empty plates sitting in front of him.
Max’s eyes looked back up to see you talking to Fernando. Your eyes were wide as you talked to the Spaniard. He made his way over to the line and grabbed a tray. With each step he took, he was nervous about setting off something that would start the song. When he walked to the table, he just looked at the chair.
“Everything all right Max?” Lando asked from the corner, making everyone look at the Dutchman. His cheeks reddened under everyone’s gaze.
You bit into your sandwich. “Each time he’s walked into or out of a building, the Dutch national anthem plays.”
“Sure it does,” Charles said, finally looking up from his phone.
Now annoyed, Max sat down. Surprisingly nothing happened. He let out a content hum before biting into his food.
However, the moment he took a bite, it stated to play again. Rounds of laughter fell from everyone’s lips as he sat there, looking sad with a bite of food in his mouth.
Not wanting to sit anymore, he stood up abruptly and walked out with the tray. Yet, the song started over once he opened the door. A loud huff left his lips, which made everyone start laughing again.
What he failed to notice was a camera set up in the corner of the room. You turned and looked at it, giving it a thumbs up.
You wiped a tear from your eye. “Aw man, now he’s going to be mad.” You looked at one of the media personelle who was standing in the corner. He took the camera and just gave you a smile.
“He’ll be mad at us, not at you.”
You crossed your arms, not convinced in the slightest. Fernando gave you an upside down smile.
“Come on niña, I’ll take you to Max.”
He stood from the table, waiting for you to follow. Yet, you shook your head.
“Nando, he’s going to be mad and all grumpy and I’m going to be at the receiving end of it in the car. He’s taken Charles out too many times.”
“Hey!”
Your eyebrows pinched as you looked up at the green-clad driver. Your eyes then looked back down at your food.
Fernando sighed, knowing you weren’t going to budge. He turned around and walked out, without the Dutch national anthem playing. He stalked toward the Red Bull garage and was able to walk in.
Every loved Fernando and had great respect for him.
“Anyone know where I can find Max?”
Christian spoke up from the corner. “He’s in his room. Is everything ok?”
Fernando sighed as he rubbed his head. “For a prank, they got someone to play the Dutch National anthem every time Max did something. He got tired of it, so he stormed out. Now the kid thinks that he’s going to be mad at her all weekend. I’m just here to explain because she’s a bit nervous.”
Christian had a sympathetic look on his face. He was sad that you thought that Max would ever be mad at you for something so trivial.
The Briton nodded his head in the direction of Max’s driver room. “Second door on the left.”
Fernando thanked him, before heading that way. He knocked once before the door swung open, sadly causing the anthem to play once again.
Max deadpanned as he waited for the song to stop.
“Is everything ok Fernando?” the Dutchman asked, trying to look around to see if you were there as well. His heart sank a bit when you weren’t seen.
The elder sighed. “So your team thought it’d be a good video to play the anthem every time you did something.”
Max winced. “Oh I know.”
Fernando looked at him weirdly.
“You don’t think I saw the dude with the camera in the corner of the garage or hospitality?”
The Spaniard nodded. He knew a thing or two for spotting cameras on him. You get used to it after being in the field for so long.
“Well, the kid thinks you were going to be mad if you knew that she was in on it.”
Max’s eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. “Oh no no no. Doesn’t she know when I can tell that she’s not sleeping? She’s taken so many naps around me, that I know when she’s actually asleep.”
Max had known from the beginning, since you never woke up so quickly. It always took a few nudges, not just one. And your headphones were off and you barely flinched when he approached you. He was actually amused that you had gone through all the trouble to seem innocent.
Fernando let out a long sigh. “I told her that you wouldn’t be angry or frustrated.”
Max had a determined look. “Let’s go find her. She’s probably either in the Ferrari garage or McLaren.”
“She’s in the Williams garage.”
Max turned around. “How do you know this?”
“It was supposed to be a joke, but she put me on her Life360. Said I was getting old and was at a higher risk of crashing outside of work.”
Max let out a deep laugh at the imagination of you downloading Life360 onto Fernando’s phone.
The two walked out of the garage (this time the anthem did not play) and toward Williams. The two got to catch up on something before they arrived.
They saw the Thai driver first.
“Alex have you see Y/n anywhere?” Max questioned, catching him off guard.
He said nothing, but subtly tilted his head toward the back where Logan was awkwardly standing behind a box. Max’s eyes lit up at he looked at the American, who had a nervous look on his face.
Max put a finger to his lips and saw Logan barely nod. He gingerly crossed the room and looked down. Behind said box, you were clinging to Logan’s leg, playing a game.
He heard you snicker to yourself. “Max will never find me here.”
“Sure kid.”
He could have sworn he saw your soul leave your body as you jumped off of Logan’s leg. The American rolled his eyes before lifting you off the ground and placing you in front of the Dutch driver.
“I think this belongs to you.”
All in the back, Fernando and Alex stood laughing behind their hands.
You looked back at Logan. “Traitor.”
“Come on kid.”
Max gently led you back to the Red Bull garage, but not without thanking Fernando for his help. The Spaniard only patted his back before returning to his own garage. Max watched as you begrudgingly walking in front of him. He quickened his steps to be right beside you.
“I can hear your grumpiness from over here,” he tried to joke, yet stopped when he saw barely there tears in your lash line.
He cooed as he tried to not let you cry.
“Kid I thought it was funny.”
“Are you sure? You looked super unhappy after lunch.” You looked down and kicked a stone.
“Y/n.”
Oh, he said the name (and not the nickname).
You sheepishly looked up at him.
“I’m not mad. And if I was, I’d take it out on the media team and not you.”
You smiled just a bit. “Promise?”
“Promise. Now, let’s go kick some ass so we can listen to the Dutch National Anthem on the podium.”
Race Results:
Max Verstappen – 25 points
Y/n L/n – 18 points
Charles Leclerc – 16 points (fastest lap)
Lewis Hamilton – 12 points
Oscar Piastri – 11 points
Alex Albon – 8 points
George Russell – 6 points
Logan Sargeant – 4 points
Lance Stroll – 2 points
Lando Norris – 1 point
Fernando Alonso
Niko Hulkenberg
Kevin Magnussen
Daniel Ricciardo
Pierre Gasly
Yuki Tsunoda
Esteban Ocon
Valtteri Bottas
Zhou Guanyu
Carlos Sainz – DNF (engine failure)
Champions Standings
Max Verstappen – 309 points
Charles Leclerc – 268 points
Lando Norris – 190 points
Y/n L/n – 181 points
Carlos Sainz – 130 points
Oscar Piastri – 118 points
Lewis Hamilton – 105 points
Alex Albon – 56 point
George Russell – 54 points
Fernando Alonso – 45 points
Logan Sargeant – 36 points
Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points
Lance Stroll – 17 points
Pierre Gasly - 12 points
Valtteri Bottas – 13 points
Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points
Zhou Guanyu – 1 point
Nico Hulkenberg
Kevin Magnussen
Esteban Ocon
Constructors Championship
Red Bull – 490 points
Ferrari – 398 points
McLaren – 308 points
Mercedes – 159 points
Williams – 92 points
Aston Martin – 62 points
Alpha Tauri – 31 points
Alpha Romeo – 14 points
Alpine – 12 points
Haas – 0 points
The cool wind of the Netherlands brushed up against your face as you stood on the second step. If your math was correct, you were still behind Lando in the championship by only 9 points. You’d make it up as long as you didn’t DNF for the rest of the season.
You smiled as you heard the Dutch National Anthem for the umpteenth time that day. Your shoulders started to shake as it continued playing, which made Charles look at you and start laughing as well. Max watched with a grin on his face as you couldn’t contain yourself.
To the people down below, it looked like you were crying since you were wiping tears away (which you were, but the tears were from laughing too hard). Their hearts ached as you were on the second step once again, and not the top one.
But, you were having the time of your life, spraying Max and Charles with loads of champagne. You were on a high right now, and nothing would stop it. You knew that later that night, you’d stay awake going over data and sim times.
Because that second step was sweet, but the top step would be even sweeter.
And you needed the win.
You were starving.
redbullracing has posted
redbullracing no broken trophies this year - orange army you were good to us
liked by y/n.nation, dutch4max, orangearmynation, and 390,204 others
maxmaxmax_super DUTCH ANTHEM YASSSSS
maxie&kid best 1-2 honestly
lastlap_lando NOT THE BROKEN TROPHIES COMMENT
landonorris how many times do I have to apologize?
y/n.89 give it a few years, he still hasn't forgiven me for accidentally eating his stroopwaffle
maxverstappen1 BECAUSE IT WAS THE LAST ONE
y/n.89 YOUR NAME WASN'T ON IT
y/n&co when are RB going to give her a win?? for real???
best_rookie ROOKIE WIN ROOKIE WIN ROOKIE WIN
y/n.nation WE NEED A WIN?? ADMIN? AUTHOR??
author CALL DOWN - LET ME COOK
autodromonazionale_monza a presto! Viaggi sicuri!
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hii I just wanted to ask if you could do general headcannons for Manjiro sano/Mikey if that's alright, also I hope you had a good holiday! :)
Manjiro Sano general relationship headcannons
Note: AHH THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST 🤭🤭
And I hope you had a good holiday too! <33
I went a little off-track, mb 😭
- He didn’t really have any interest in girls, until him and Emma were just going back and forth with insults and she said that he gets no girls. It made him stop and actually think. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d liked a girl or a girl liked him back.
- So naturally he decided to give the whole relationship thing a go. The only problem was to find someone willing to be his girlfriend.
- He went to school to try and find a girl who might like him, he didn’t have any specific girl he liked so he was open to anyone. You sat next him in a couple of classes, but since he never never came, he didn’t know. You guys got to talking and he quickly found himself enjoying your little daily talks!
- It progressed and it wasn’t until Draken noticed him getting visibly happy whenever someone mentioned your name that he liked you. Mikey honestly didn’t think it was a big deal until Mitsuya pointed out that you might only see him as a friend. That’s when he got a little panicked.
- This was the first (and would be the only) time he’d ever liked a girl. We all know if you’re friends with Mikey that it will last literal TIMELINES because he’s incredibly loyal and expects others to be as well. That’s why he expected your guys’ current friendship to last that long too.
- He realized that confessing could ruin that if you didn’t like him back and if you did you two could end up breaking up since he didn’t know much about relationships anyway.
- So for a couple of months he just lived with his giant crush on you.
- I don’t think he’d be scared of introducing you to Toman since he knows he’s literally ‘The Invincible Mikey’ (or was it unbeatable I can’t remember). He could just protect you if anything were to happen! And he expected every Toman member to do the same.
- Everyone in Toman knows Mikey likes you. In fact, you seem to be the only one who hasn’t noticed.
- When Takemichi found out that Mikey liked you, he was ready to help his friend out. So he gave Mikey advice that he got from Hina. He told Mikey to be a gentleman and to be straight up with his feelings.
- You and Emma happened to be good friends and you’d even been to her house a couple times. You’d never met Mikey there though, you only knew that Emma had a brother and a grandpa. But you’d met her Grandpa and he was a nice old man.
- Mikey happened to be home but he ignored the fact Emma had someone over since he didn’t know any of them. But then he went into Emma’s room to tell her something and he froze when you’d said hi to him.
- HOW WERE YOU IN HIS HOUSE? IN HIS SISTER’S ROOM? WHEN DID YOU GUYS EVEN MEET?-
- Emma was surprised that you and Mikey knew each other, but brushed it off since she didn’t have to introduce Mikey.
- But then Mikey was visibly getting happy when talking to you, and Emma could swear she saw him blushing..
- That’s how Emma found out he had a massive crush on you, and she was a little mad because you and her had been friends longer than you’d known Mikey. She was sure that her brother’s feelings weren’t genuine. She didn’t want Mikey to ever confess, in case the relationship didn’t work out and you stopped being friends with her because it was awkward.
- But when she noticed his feelings were actually genuine she was hell-bent on getting him to confess.
- So he finally relented. But before he did anything, he begged Emma to ask you if you liked him, even just a bit.
- So she called you the next day and asked. You didn’t want to tell Emma that you liked her BROTHER so you avoided the question. But then she said she didn’t mind if you liked her brother and that she would be your wingwoman if you did. That’s when you finally confessed to her that you’d liked Mikey for a couple weeks now.
- She had to cover Mikey’s mouth to stop him from confessing right then and there over the phone.
- So after he found out he was happy but a little confused. Why would you like him of all people? But on the surface he was telling his friends things like “Of course she likes me, I’m the strongest!” (it’s giving gojo)
- Planned a wholeeeee thing to ‘indirectly’ confess to you. He didn’t want to do all the work in your guys’ obvious upcoming relationship. So Draken and Mitsuya planned something to help. (Mikey just sat there eating dorayaki and rambling on ab all the cute things he wants to do once you inevitably become his gf)
- The plan was that Emma would ask you to walk home with her, so then after school you’d wait until she came out to go. But Emma would take a while to leave you waiting. Then a short distance away from you, Mikey would talk to his friends with a loud ass voice. Then he’d be all like “Yeah, Y/N is really pretty, I would love to go out with her.”
- And then you’d be all like “omg!!! mikey, you’re the love of my life!!! <3”
- But he happened to be daydreaming the last part.. Although, his plan was bound to elicit SOMETHING!
- Little did they know Emma was a double agent and had told you her brother loves you and that you should confess. At first, you would’ve been like ‘no way!’. But Emma spent ages convincing you and managed to get you to do it on the same day Mikey was supposed to.
- So on the day he was going to indirectly confess, Emma got you to go outside right after school and ask to speak with him privately.
- He was caught a little off guard but went w/ you.
- To cut this short you guys kissed and are a couple now, yay!
- Now onto the actual relationship headcannons, I’m sorry the bit before was a lot longer than I expected 😭
- His friends gag whenever you guys kiss near them.
- “Jeez, get a room!”
- “Stop swapping spit and pay attention, Mikey you dumbass!”
- “It looks like he’s eating her, wtf??”
- “Y/N, are you okay?!! My brother is disgusting!!”
- guess who says each of those lol
- Will lick your cheek but gets shocked if you do it back.
- You’re the only person he shares his snacks with, and even then you barely get any 😔
- He loves taking you out on late-night motorcycle rides where you scream because he’s going way too fast.
- He doesn’t wear a helmet, but expects you to wear one for your safety.
- “Aren’t you gonna wear a helmet, Manjiro?”
- “Nope, I’m good.”
- Likes it when you call him by his actual name, since it’s been a while since anyone has. (he acts like he doesn’t tell everyone to call him mikey)
- One time, you wanted to have a cute date where you two read books w/ each other but he ended up falling asleep 10 minutes in.
- Took you out to eat after though, partly bc he gets hungry after waking up.
- But right after he ate, he fell asleep again and you had to call Draken to come help you lift Mikey 😭😭
- His sleeping and then eating thing is a vicious cycle
- Draken sees you as a sister, and if anyone were to be his wingwoman or wingman with Emma it would be you.
- You edge along their relationship by saying things to them like
- “Emma, Draken was asking about you!”
- “Guess what, Draken? Emma asked about you!”
- Mikey gets huffy though.
- Likes when you kiss him w/ lipstick on because it leaves a stain on his lips.
- You did face masks with him once and put cucumbers over his eyes but then he ate them 😒
- Loves eating things with you. Mf will show up at your door with bags of food from some new restaurant he found asking to try it with you.
- The first time you baked smth for him, he didn’t leave your side for a week.
- He’s actually very sweet when he wants to be, but it’s only when you two are alone. He likes to hold your hand whilst you’re watching something or reading. It makes him comfortable.
- You probably have to do his hair in the morning like Draken does 😭😭
- Draken appreciates it tho
- Even though Toman knows about you, you wouldn’t have to worry about other gangs getting to you because Mikey simply won’t let it happen. He’s already taken care of that by having Sanzu watch you as well! :)
- Sanzu did NOT like you at first but he grew to tolerate you then after a while he sort of liked you.
- When you and Mikey were first dating, he probably gave you the nastiest stink eyes. He also tripped you up once but no one suspected him..
- He’s very loyal, I don’t see him cheating or breaking up with you. Especially because he really loves you and can’t imagine his life without you now.
- Blanket hogger. Will literally tear it off of you whilst he’s sleeping and lay down on top of it. (sometimes he fakes being asleep to do this to you bc he likes pissing you off 😭😭)
- If you guys have an argument, I don’t think he’s the type of guy to say ‘sorry’ but he’ll do things to show you he’s sorry. He’ll you your favorite food, buys you a plushie or just hug you quietly.
- He will only say sorry if it was a serious argument, and if he was really in the wrong. But luckily you guys don’t really argue. Anytime Mikey feels an argument coming on, he’ll discreetly diffuse it by catching you off-guard with a kiss or something. (i can’t tell if that’s a little toxic or not)
#m4nj1r0s#tokyo revengers#headcannons#tr#x reader#manjiro sano#mikey sano#sano mikey manjiro#sano manjiro x reader#manjiro sano fluff#mikey tokyo revengers#relationship headcanons#request#mikey x reader#manjiro x y/n#manjiro x you#emma sano#draken#manjiro headcanons#tokyo revengers toman#toman mikey
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Joel Nye, The Science Guy
no outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈4.6k
"Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would."
Summary: Joel stumbles across an article online about the effects of coffee on the body. Determined to uncover the truth, he tests the hypothesis with you as his subject.
Contents/Warnings: Any physical description of reader is neutral (no size descriptions). Joel is bigger than you though (but he’s fucking huge in general, so…). No age mentioned for reader or for Joel. Implied established relationship. No matter what age, Joel is a grandpa when it comes to technology. Mentions of Amazon LMAO. SMUT 18+ MDNI (mutual masturbation on the phone, touching yourself in the workplace, dirty talk, sexting [kinda], ..kitchen activities…reflections…, finger fucking, lots of liquids, squirting, cumming untouched, drinking coffee with an ulterior motive!, allusion to further sexual endeavors). Please let me know if I missed anything!
A/N: Happy New Year, my loves! I just got done rewatching TLOU for the millionth time while drinking some coffee, and for some reason, this was born. I have no idea wtf this is, so don't ask me.💚 Also let’s thank @javierpena-inatacvest for titling this silly thing for me hehe. Fucking iconic. I love you, bestie.🥹
Here's to my first fic of 2024, and to many more! I hope you enjoy.💚
MASTERLIST
Joel’s number one favorite sensation every morning was when the first drop of the bitter, black liquid met his tongue, consuming all his senses into nothing but pure coffee. It was one of his favorite things—past tense—because then he got to experience what it was like waking up to you every morning, what it was like tasting you every morning. The first drop of you blessed his tongue one year ago, and he never looked back.
That is, until now.
You had work today and Joel had the day off, a rare occurrence. You forgot to set your alarm this morning, so you broke from his hold in a rush, leaving him nothing but a sweet kiss to last him the day.
Usually your mornings together are spent tangled in his sheets until he leaves you with less than twenty minutes to get ready for your day. Too addicted to the way he makes you feel, you mastered the art of quick change, using the rest of your time to do your morning skincare routine. This, you’ll never skip—subjecting yourself to a few scoldings by your boss because of it.
Joel allowed himself a few more hours of sleep after you left, his body needing extra rest from his unusually crazy day at the job site yesterday and from the way you pounced on him as soon as he came home. You promised him it would be you doing all the work, but like the addicting little thing you are, he couldn’t help but take charge so he could watch you fall apart over and over and over again.
Joel pulled himself out of his bed, a chill running down his body from leaving the trapped body heat of the sheets. He was hard, of course, and usually you’re there to help with his morning problem, but apparently today’s full of rare events for Joel. He grumbles to himself as he makes the way to the bathroom, not wanting to take care of himself without you, not anymore. He could wait for you to be home, but he knows he’d be a leaking, grumpy mess all day—God forbid he has to interact with another human in that aroused, frustrated state. He checks the little clock you bought for his bathroom counter when you moved in—so I can watch the time when I get ready for work, you scolded him when he made you late for the first time.
11:48 the clock displays; twelve more minutes until your break. He can wait twelve minutes. You usually close your office during your lunch, don’t you? Maybe he can call you. He might as well do his own morning routine while he waits. Joel’s old morning routines consisted of brushing his teeth, then washing his face with soap and water. Though, upon witnessing his wretched routine the first morning you two spent together, you were utterly appalled at his actions, forcing him to the store and spending the first half of your morning educating him on proper skincare. His morning routine went from four minutes to fifteen with your influence, but because he didn’t want to be a minute late in calling you, he shaved three minutes off from his task.
As soon as the clock hit twelve, Joel plopped himself in bed, leaning against the headboard, and reached for his phone, immediately dialing you.
Two rings later, and your sweet voice fills his ears. “Hi, baby,” you say. He can hear the small smile on your face.
“Hi, darlin’,” Joel rasps, his voice still groggy from the lack of use.
“You just wake up?” You jokingly scold, knowing damn well what the answer was. You like when he sleeps in. He deserves the rest from all that hard work he does.
“Maybe,” he tells you. You can hear the smirk on his face now. “How’s work goin’? On your break now?”
“Work is… definitely going,” you huff. “And yeah, I’m on my break now, which means I’ve got an hour to counterproductively stress about these reports that have to go out.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” he tells you softly. But then he’s smirking again. “Can I help?”
“Help?” you repeat.
“Yeah,” he states like it’s the most regular answer ever. “Lemme help de-stress ya,” he adds, his voice dropping an octave.
A heat consumes your face, but you remain calm. “Yeah?” You breathe. “And how would you help me, cowboy?” You ask him as you swiftly stand from your desk to lock your office door and close your blinds.
“I reckon you just locked that door of yours, huh?” He asks rhetorically, knowing you better than you know yourself. Not even your past lovers would be able to pick up on the slightest of changes in your voice when you’re aroused. Joel picks up on it instantly.
“Maybe,” you repeat his sentiment from earlier.
“If I’m remembering correctly,” Joel says as he rubs his hand over his tenting bulge in an attempt to ease his ache. “You’ve got a couch in there, baby?”
“Yeah,” you whisper.
“Well, you know what to do next, babygirl.”
Glancing at your door to make sure it’s really locked, you make your way to your couch, unbuttoning your jeans in the process and shucking them down as your ass meets the cushion. Fuck, you’re already soaked.
“Where are you?” You ask him, your fingers ghosting your core over the wet patch on your panties.
As soon as the words leave your mouth, your phone buzzes. Joel sent you a text. An image. Clicking it, a breathy little whimper escapes you. “Fuck.” He’s leaning against the headboard, legs pushed open, his thick thighs on display. He’s just wearing his boxers, and his hand is inside, gripping onto his length. His leaking, angry tip is showing from the top of his boxers. A little circle catches your eye, and- oh. It’s a live photo. You hold down on the image, and you see his hips jerk into his hand. “Fuck,” you say again, your pussy twitching in excitement yet frustration that you can’t have him inside you right now. “I need you so fucking bad, Joel,” you whine into the phone as your fingers finally dip inside.
“I need you, too, baby,” he groans, “I’m fuckin’ dyin’ over here.” He sounds so pained. It riles you up even more. Your fingers speed up at his words, breathy moans escaping you. You circle your clit a few more times before reaching lower and dipping your middle and index finger inside of you. Joel hears the faintest sound of a squelch, and the grip on his cock tightens. He pulls his boxers completely down over his thighs, his cock completely free, and he tugs at a slow, teasing pace in an effort to build himself up the way you normally do for him. “Let me hear you, baby, let me hear you touch yourself for me.”
Lord, you hope your room is sound proofed enough because without any hesitation, you’re putting him on speaker and setting your phone down near your cunt, pumping in and out of yourself faster and deeper for him to hear. “J-Joel, f-fuck,” you stutter, “I- I’m-”
“You’re close, baby, I know,” he says soothingly. You can hear the slick sound of his hand speed up. Your other hand falls to your clit as your fingers continue inside. “Let go for me, mi amor, soak those fingers as if it were my cock fuckin’ you,” he rambles. “Just like I know you can, baby, atta fuckin’ girl.”
With the help of his filthy mouth, your body seizes up and you’re seeing stars, your eyes falling to the back of your head as you remove your hand from your clit to slap it over your mouth in an attempt to stop the high-pitched, purely pornographic moan of his name from escaping the walls of your not-so private office. You can hear the moment Joel cums, too, a painful groan roars from his throat as you hear the movements slow but get slippier with each pass over.
You’re on the phone for a few moments more, listening to each other’s breaths, slowly fixing your clothing as you let your heart rate return to normal.
“Joel,” you finally have enough strength to say.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
He hears a faint knock on your door. You pull the phone away to lessen your volume on his end. Just a moment, he hears you call out. “Gonna need more of you when I get home.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Joel replies more than happily.
After your phone call, Joel cleans and dresses himself up and heads to the kitchen.
Joel can’t help the way your words bounce around his head. Gonna need more of you when I get home.
“And I’m definitely gonna need a fuck ton of you today,” he mutters to the bag of Colombian coffee grounds he pulls out of his kitchen cabinet. He refills the machine with water, inserts a filter, pours two heaping spoonfuls of the ground beans into the compartment, places a mug, and hits start. He goes to put the coffee away, but it’s then he feels how lightweight the bag is starting to feel.
Genuinely, he begins to panic. He needs to order more, and he needs to do it now. He cannot go a day without his precious coffee. The brand he orders is online only, and usually he would wait for you to help him place the order, but he doesn’t want to risk hitting the cutoff for same day delivery.
Joel isn’t that old, and he certainly grows with the time period, but when it comes to technology, he’s worse than your 97-year-old grandmother who attempts to group FaceTime both of you every night. Sure, he knows how to send you pictures, but that’s the extent of his ability. Truly. With his coffee in mind, though, he puts on his bravest face and opens Safari. He searches for the website you’re always on. A, he types. M. A. Z.
There! Amazon. He clicks the website, not knowing the app is already installed on his phone. He sees the smiling logo, and, proud of himself, he smiles back at it.
The smile is quick to fade, however, because the intricacies of working the website is giving him heart palpitations. He sets his phone down and reaches for his reading glasses in his pocket and slides them on. He picks up his phone again.
The thing about using Amazon on a phone through a search engine, though, is that the website is constantly glitching. So when he types in the word coffee, he has zero idea how he ended up on a completely different website, his original search lost in the complicated webs of the internet.
It takes him a moment to realize what he’s reading, but once it registers, it’s way more interesting than his original task.
Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee, the headline read. His eyes begin to scan lower. Researchers concluded there was a “correlation between caffeine and sex” after testing its effects on rats.
Oh, yeah, he’s intrigued.
After reading the article, Joel restarts his original task and ends up ordering a larger amount of coffee than he normally would. In the name of science, he rationalized with himself.
Satisfied with his accomplishments, he grabs his mug and takes the time to enjoy his cup of pure caffeine. He needs the energy after all.
You get off promptly at 4pm, not wanting to spend any more time in your office—especially with the way you’ve been buzzing with need ever since your noon phone call. As soon as you park, you see an Amazon delivery person dropping off a box. They don’t ring the doorbell, and you know Joel doesn’t pay attention to the delivery notifications.
You get out of your car, leaving your things to get later. You reach the front porch and unlock and open the door first, bending down and picking up the box second.
Joel greets you at the door, immediately cursing himself for not paying attention to the door, resulting in you doing the heavy lifting. He knows you’re more than capable—Hell, you could probably handle his job better than he can—but his Southern upbringing is too deeply rooted into him to allow anything less.
“Hi, my love, I’m sorry, I coulda brought that in, baby,” he tells you as he takes the box from your grasp, giving you a forehead kiss as a trade off. The warmth of his lips physically relaxes you.
You two walk towards the kitchen, Joel sets the box down on the counter. “I just parked as they dropped it off, honey, it was no biggie,” you reply softly.
“I know, baby, but you know I-” he starts. You don’t let him finish as you grab him by his biceps and pull him into you, your arms finding their home wrapped around his neck as his grip completely wrapping your waist. Your lips slot together in a slow, needy embrace—your tongues slowly breaching each other’s mouths. You swallow the groans escaping his throat as you pull away from him.
“I know,” you say breathily, eyes as dark as his morning coffee. “Won’t do it again, promise,” you smile, knowing this is the only false promise you’ll ever make. At the rate of how hard you work him in other things, carrying a few heavy boxes is the least you could do every now and then. “Now, please undress me, baby,” you whimper, your hand skating down the front of his body, your deft fingers sliding into his waistband.
With one arm around your waist, another claws at your top, untucking it from your jeans to lift it over your head as he kisses and nips all over your jaw and neck. He turns your body so that your ass meets the counter, pushing his hips into yours, silently telling you to jump up.
Too eager, you don’t realize the trajectory of your jump, and your ass smacks the package, causing it to almost slip off the edge. The impact to your rear surprises you enough to pull away from Joel and look back. Apparently, your brain is already turned to mush because you completely forgot about that box’s existence.
However, now that you’re looking at it, you’re confused. You haven’t ordered anything recently. Did Joel order something? But he doesn’t even know how-
“You okay, darlin’?” Joel asks, pausing all his movements.
“Did you order something?” You ask.
His cheeks go red. “Yeah.. we were runnin’ out of my coffee ‘n I didn’t want to not have any for tomorrow or for later ‘n I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home to help me-”
The bubbly sounds of your giggles are what cut him off. “What?” He asks, slightly defensive and slightly giddy at the sweetness blessing his ears.
“You ordered something!” You exclaim. “You ordered something! And you were successful with it!” You’re gasping for air, speaking your excitement into his chest as you wrap yourself around him.
“Don’t make fun a’me,” he pouts, grabbing your chin with his thumb and forefinger, giving your face a little scolding shake.
“Oh, baby, no,” you coo, your laughter calming down because of the pain in your cheeks from smiling so wide. “I’m not making fun. I’m so proud!” your voice raises back up, as if you were talking to a baby who hit their first big milestone.
He rolls his eyes. “Baby, don’t be like that,” you say as you lean in to give him a soft kiss. He gives in, of course, and he deepens it. “I really am proud,” you say as you attempt to pull away.
He doesn’t let you. “Yeah, yeah,” he says sardonically in between kisses.
Your hand drags up and grabs at his jaw, pulling him away so you can speak. “Now you don’t have to ask me to order things for you anymore,” you say with a smirk.
“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he breathes, trying to push against your hold on him. “Worst experience ever, I even-”
He cuts himself off because he was so caught up in you when you got home, he forgot about the little detour his internet experience took him on today.
Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee.
“Actually,” he redirects. “Can we have some now?”
Your eyes pop out of your head in astonishment. “Right now?” you ask in disbelief.
He gulps. “Y-yeah, right now. That okay?”
You don’t see why not besides the fact that his erection has been perched right against the soaked fabric of your panties for the last fifteen minutes and you’ll probably go mad if you don’t actually get relief in the next five minutes—but yeah, sure. Why not?
“I guess?” You say. Or ask? You really don’t know anymore.
Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would.
You’re not really a coffee person. Sure, you have a cup here and there—mostly iced and from your favorite local shop on your way to work—but compared to Joel, you are nowhere near the level he is.
“How do you want it?” He asks, his back turned to you as he prepares two mugs.
“Rough,” you mutter, slightly annoyed. You can feel the slick in your underwear start to get cold—and dry.
Joel briefly turns around catching your eye; he points to his ear. “Say that again, sweetheart?”
Fuck. Okay, maybe you’re being a little too bitchy. You rise from your seat at the counter, perching yourself right beside him, reaching your hand into his curls to give him a little head scratch. “I’ll do it, baby,” you say. “Thank you.” With your hand still at the back of his head, you guide him to look at you as you stand on your tippy toes to give him a soft kiss.
The coffee, honestly, wasn’t that bad. Yeah, you put your usual creamer and sugar, but you put slightly less—curious to get a glimpse of the natural flavor Joel loves so much. You could get used to it like this, you think. One thing is for sure, though: the brand Joel buys is fucking strong. You’re on your last sip, and you are struggling—you can feel your heart pumping out of your chest, and you swear you feel like your entire body is pulsing. Like you can hear your blood coursing through your veins. You don’t tell Joel because you don’t want to sound weird, so you shrug the feeling away and take your last sip. Perfectly in sync with you, Joel finishes off his coffee and reaches for your mug to also bring to the sink.
Quickly letting the faucet run into the mugs so the coffee doesn’t stain, Joel speaks up. “How was it, darlin’? I know you don’t really enjoy coffee the way I do,” he notes.
“Actually, baby, I really enjoyed it,” you say with a genuine smile.
“Yeah?” He asks, a boyish grin sneaking past his lips.
“Yeah,” you reassure. “It was really strong, though,” you add.
“Strong?” he asks, eyebrow quirked.
“Yeah, um-” you start, unsure of how to describe it. “I don’t know, I just- I’ve never had coffee make my entire body feel like- like it’s buzzing or something. I don’t know,” you ramble.
“Huh,” he says to no one in particular. “I mean, it is one of the stronger roasts,” he tells you. Is this because you were already severely worked up beforehand? It can’t be the placebo effect—he didn’t even tell you about his discoveries.
Guess there’s only one way to go from here.
Not giving you a chance to respond, his hands find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. He kisses your jaw, trailing his lips down the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your head falls back onto him, your eyes fluttering shut as you give him full access. His fingers skate across the front of your jeans, your shirt already untucked from his earlier attempt. Your hips buck into his hands in response, a whiny little please leaves your mouth.
“Shh, I got ya, sweet girl,” he rasps in your ear, his drawl licking a heat up your spine. He adjusts himself so he’s the one leaning against the kitchen counter, your body entirely relying on his support to keep you standing.
He’s unbuttoning your jeans and right away you’re reaching for the zipper, helping him pull your bottoms down in one go.
You’re shaking in his grasp, too pent up with a need your body doesn’t know what to do with. “Relax, baby, I’ma take care a’ya,” he says with a nip to your shoulder, his middle and ring finger already finding their place running through your soaked folds.
Your eyes shut at the sensation, your breathing erratic and vocal. He drags your slick up to your throbbing bundle of nerves, circling with a precision only he knows how to provide. “F-fuck,” you moan. His other hand slides down to your sex, his two fingers going straight for your entrance and sliding in with ease with how much is pouring from you. “Fuckfuckfuck-”
“Gonna cum on my fingers, babygirl?” He’s pumping in and out of you at a languid pace even with the squirm of your hips. The stimulation on your clit never falters. “I can feel that pretty pussy flutter ‘round me, darlin’, I know she’s close.”
“J-Joel, please,” you let out, your head bobbing back and forth, unable to keep its heavy weight up.
Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s using his foot to kick your legs further apart, settling yours on the outside of his, and then both of you are dropping to the ground. His back is to the wall of the kitchen island while you land perfectly spread open atop his lap. Not worried about his or your balance anymore, he fucks into you harder, applying more pressure on your clit—the kind that makes you want to force your legs shut but you can’t, not with the way his own legs are keeping you open. “Open your eyes, sweet girl, need ya to look at yourself when you fuckin’ soak me.”
You open your eyes immediately and cast your eyes downward to his hands on you. “Nuh uh,” Joel tuts. His hand working your clit comes up to your jaw, your slick dampening your jaw as he guides you to look straight forward. Your reflection stares back at you from the dark oven window. Even in the dull image its showing you, you can see the way your pussy is glistening in the fluorescent kitchen light, the sweat dripping down your temples, your fucked-out face with Joel’s dark gaze ravaging every part of you.
Everything—all of your senses—is completely Joel, Joel, Joel, and before you know it, you’re gushing into his hand; his newfound liquid gold ever since he met you, collecting into the depths of his palm, all while you’re roaring and thrashing out in pure bliss on top of him.
The sight, sound, the feel, everything—just like you—consumes him whole. His lust takes over now, and his hands aren’t stopping. They continue their pace—their assault—on your sensitive core. He peers down over your shoulder, and his cock grows impossibly harder at the messy, slippery sight before him. “Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Gimme one more, c’mon,” he breathes in, your scent beginning to linger into his nose, crawling into his skin and finding its home there. “I know you can gimme one more, baby, always such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”
Your head is nodding furiously as you fight with your eyes to stay open and locked on your reflection. Your babbling, spit thick and coating every inch of your mouth as you try and respond. Mhm and one and more and fuck break free from your mouth, giving all the green light Joel needs to know he isn’t going too far.
You turn your head to face Joel, your hand flying to the back of his curls and pulling him for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue—an intermingling of each other’s spit as you swallow the other’s coffee-tinged breaths.
He feels the flutter in your cunt once more, but this time it’s stronger, tighter. The way you’re clamping down on him sends him into a frenzy, his hips rutting his erection into your lower back at the feel of your warmth wrapped around him. “C’mon, baby, let go, I feel you,” he encourages.
“Fuck-!” A high-pitched gasp turned whine comes out of your mouth as your entire body goes rigid, your pussy uncontrollably fluttering and spasming as Joel fucks you through your high. All you see is white, your body is engulfed by a tingly feeling that only describing it as TV static could do it justice. Your breathing is deep and shallow all at one, but more notably, you feel wet. Completely and utterly soaked, you can feel liquid pooling at your asscheeks and on the hardwood floor.
You finally gather the strength to look down—Joel too, and he steals the words right from your mouth. “Holy. Fuck.”
You two stay there for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts on what the fuck just happened, and finally, you speak first.
“I just-” you start.
“You did,” he finishes, equally as shocked. Amazed.
“How are we gonna-”
He rubs your thighs. “Can you stand?”
You think for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I’ll get up first. Then I’ll pull you up. Just don’t move, I don’t need ya slippin’ on-”
“Yeah, okay,” you stop him, feeling slightly embarrassed about it all.
He stands up, avoiding the little puddle below; then he pulls you up, kneeling to pull your underwear on for some sense of emotional comfort. “Hey.” He nudges your face with his hand to look into his eyes. “That was fuckin’ incredible. Ya hear me?” Heat washes over your entire face. You say nothing. “It was so fuckin’ hot and sexy and so so beautiful, I’m fuckin’ lucky to have witnessed somethin’ so heavenly, darlin’.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Ya hear me?” he repeats his question, softer this time.
The embarrassment washes away in an instant. “Well,” you look into his eyes, a flash of trouble dancing across your orbs. “Felt fuckin’ incredible, too.”
“Yeah,” Joel says, grabbing and guiding your hand down to his cock. “It did feel mighty incredible,” smugness written all over his face.
He dips your hand inside his pants, and you're met with his half-hard, sticky length. “Joel, did you-”
“That I did, baby, that I did.”
A moment passes, and you burst out into laughter for the second time tonight. Only this time, Joel joins in, completely taking advantage of how sweet the comedown always is with you.
“I think I oughta drink more of that coffee,” you say out of the blue, taking Joel completely off guard as he finishes wiping up your… spill.
“Why?” he asks, trying to maintain a normal tone.
“I swear, Joel,” you whisper as if there’s other people listening in. “I swear that coffee is the reason I finished so… intensely,” you finish, your eyebrows raised in intrigue and curiosity.
“You really think so?” Joel asks, a victory smile threatening to escape him.
“Yeah,” you tell him. “I think we should test it out. You’re off tomorrow, yeah?”
“Well, I am now.”
End note: The article Joel stumbled upon is a real article LOL. Here it is, in case any of you were interested. The article is from 2023, so by all means, picture 56 year old Joel. I’m imagining him a bit younger in this lil AU, but there’s no explicit age description, so imagine whatever the hell you want😘.
And in case you were wondering: yes, he ends up telling you about his intentions behind wanting to drink coffee first. Let's just say... you both end up getting hyperfixated on trying to "prove" this theory even though you both damn well know what the result is. ;)
All my love, I hope you guys enjoyed.💚
Be sure to follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to stay up to date with my stories!!
Utilizing my taglist a few more times just to have a slow transition to my updates blog! @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @axshadows @yorksgirl
#endless thoughts fics#pedro pascal#pedrohub#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut#smut#fic#smut fic#one shot#pedrostories#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel x reader#joel miller one shot#joel miller x female reader#tlou fanfiction#tlou fic#tlou smut
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Hii🥺 so I was wondering since its gonna be oscars birthday on the weekend how about his first birthday as a dad and his partner surprise him even with flying his parents out there🥺
Love your works, have a lovely weekend❤️
Note: thank you! I hope you have a lovely weekend too (the rest of it anyway)! 🫶
"So you'll head straight to the hotel?", you asked Nicole over the phone, "this little guy is getting fussy like he was yesterday, so I can tell Oscar we'll meet him back at the hotel and he won't find it too suspicious", you reasoned.
"Thank you again for arranging all of this", your mother in-law thanked you, "I'll let you know when they pick us up".
Oscar's birthday coincided with the race weekend, and since it was the first one after Lucas was born, you thought it would be nice to have everyone together in the same place to celebrate your husband's birthday.
"Are you packing up?", Oscar said as he saw you pack Lucas' toys in the diaper bag, "yes, he's really fussy so I think we have to skip qualifying today", you kissed his cheek as he helped you, "you need a quiet nap, little one? You do, don't you?", he asked Lucas, bouncing him on his hip before he let you take him from his arms and into your sling, wrapping him safely against your body, "you and mummy enjoy yourselves and then I'll join you, okay?", he kissed the top of his head before kissing your lips, "stay safe, I love you", he smiled.
"Stay safe as well, okay? We love you and we'll see you at the hotel", you kissed his lips again, lifting Lucas' arm so he could wave at his father.
Arriving at the hotel just as Chris sent you a text saying they were on their way to the hotel, making you go up to the room and settle all your things, change Lucas' diaper and putting him back on the sling so you could go downstairs when they arrived.
"Grandma and grandpa are downstairs, my love, let's go meet them!", you spoke, grabbing the room card and heading to meet your in-laws.
"Look at the little one, he's gotten so big!", Chris was the first to speak as you stepped closer them as the man at the reception desk finished the details so he could hand them the card for their room.
"He looks so much like Oscar, but the lips are all you, Y/N", Nicole said, kissing your cheek, "how are you, dear?".
"I'm good, did you guys have a good flight?", you said as you stepped into the elevator, rubbing Lucas' back over the sling as he was fighting sleep, "He's been wide awake just taking in everything around him, but around this time yesterday, he started fussing so it actually works best to be here anyway - I can't wait for Oscar to see you guys!", you beamed.
Oscar arrived at the hotel and bid goodbye to the rest of the team before swiping the card on the door, ready for some cuddles with you and your little boy when he heard a laugh way too similar to his mother's, "hey, I'm back", he announced.
Chris got the small cake you got with the two candles, singing happy birthday as Oscar hugged his parents after gasping in surprise, "Happy Birthday to you!", Chris sang before Oscar blowing the candles, "what are you doing here?", he mused.
"Y/N flew us over so we could spend your birthday together", Nicole offered, kissing his cheek.
"Look who's up", Oscar cooed as Lucas looked up at him, stretching his arms so his father could pick him up, "hey, buddy, we're having a little party of our own, aren't we?", he gushed.
Nicole offered to put Lucas to sleep while Chris unpacked their stuff in their room so you and Oscar could go to the hotel restaurant and enjoy a meal together without the baby, "thank you for doing this, love", he kissed your knuckles.
(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)
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can u pretty please with a cherry on top make a part 4 to the milf abby 😔🙏🏼💟
Headcannons: Milf!abby anderson x reader (part 4)
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4
Authors note: Ladies and pookies I'm back! This last week has been the worst and most painful week of my life but, I'm back and better than ever <3
☆ Milf Abby who gets your initials tattooed on her ring finger.
You felt her calloused hands grab your waist as you stood admiring the ring she got you.
“it’s pretty” you muttered
“you’re pretty” she said with a smile
“shut up Abby” you shoved her to the side as you felt your face grow hot.
The two of you stood in silence for a while, enjoying the peace and quiet you both rarely get with Aubrey
“you know” Abby started “if the bride gets to wear an engagement ring, what about their partner?”
Your brows furrow, at the thought.
“that actually makes a lot of sense Abby. We should get you a ring-“
but before you could even finish you sentence Abby lifted up her right hand revealing the tattoo.
“what the fuck Abigail”
☆ Milf Abby who refers to you as her wife long before the wedding.
“Yeah my wife and I went there”
“she’s my wife”
“my wife likes that show”
“you know what they say happy wife happy life”
☆ Milf Abby who buys you white dresses as gifts just to see what you would look like in white, because she really couldn’t wait for the wedding.
☆ Milf Abby who’s literally a perfectionist and plans the wedding without a planner.
“No, you aren’t folding the napkins right”
“that isn’t the right shade of pink”
☆ Milf Abby who asks her daughter to be the ring bearer and the maid of honor.
Aubrey looked at you with curious eyes as Abby placed the box onto her lap.
“dude what’s this?”
“Aubrey I’m not your friend, who taught you that word?” Abby sighed
“grandpa did”
“of course he did. He really needs to stop-“
“Abby lets focus on the box” you interrupted her, knowing this conversation wasn’t going anywhere.
“Can I open it please?” Aubrey asked you, with a polite smile.
“of course she’s nice to you! You little gremlin-“
“Abby!”
Abby felt Aubrey pinch her arm at the gremlin comment
“why would you-“
“ok” you said with a stern voice “lets open the box, you guys can fight later”
sometimes it felt like you were living with children.
Aubrey’s small hands grabbed the box, eagerly tearing away the wrapping paper. In the box lay a simple white dress, with paper rings. The little girl gently grabbed the fabric, inspecting it. She saw the rings and it took her a while to get it.
“I’m carrying the rings?!” she yelled
“and we were hoping you’d be our maid of honor too” you pulled out a basket from behind you and the girls smile grew.
☆ Milf Abby who begs you to let her go with you when you go wedding dress shopping.
“please”
“Abby its bad luck”
“fuck the bad luck”
☆ Milf Abby who sends you thumbs down emoji’s the whole time you were gone.
☆ Milf Abby who doesn’t want to sleep in separate houses the night before the wedding.
☆ Milf Abby who sends you cringe Facebook minion memes and jokes because she misses you. This was your first night apart in months, but she knew after tonight she would be waking up with you next to her for the rest of her life.
☆ Milf Abby who barley slept that night. She wasn’t sure if she was nervous or excited.
☆ Milf Abby who gets ready extremely early. Her hair was out of her normal tight braid, and the hair fell to her shoulders. Her black suit hugging her in all the right places.
☆ Milf Abby who starts at herself in the mirror too long, and she suddenly notices her wrinkles, she suddenly notices the grey hairs.
☆ Milf Abby who gets cold feet.
☆ Milf Abby who starts crying because you didn’t deserve this.
You needed someone younger, some who doesn’t have back pains and complains about their joints hurting. Someone who wasn’t turning 50 soon.
Someone who won’t die soon.
You needed more than Abby.
Abby’s loud sobs filled the room as she looked at herself in the mirror.
She should call this off.
“Abby?” her head snapped to the direction of the door. It was her dad. She quickly wiped her eyes, and she sniffed a couple of times. “hey dad” he slowly walked towards her, and he gently sat next to her, putting his hand on her shoulder he muttered “you okay?”
The blonde sitting next to him broke out in sobs, her head fell to his shoulder “oh honey” he breathed as he held her close.
“Abby what’s wrong?” He felt his daughter tremble next to him. “i- I’m keeping her back in life” Abby started, and Jerry just sat and listened to her.
“I’m so old I’m probably going to die soon. Who wants to be married to a grandma? One of these days I won’t be able to get out of bed without complaining. And she’s so pretty and young- she-she deserves everything, and what can I give her? My future dentures?”
“have you ever thought that this is what she wanted?”
Abby lifted her head to what her father said.
“The fact she’s marrying you proves that the love she has for you is endless. She’s willing to look after you when you do get those dentures. She wants you as much as you want her Abby, don’t let your insecurities stop you from being with the love of your life. And yeah, you’ll get old, but she’ll be with you”
☆ Milf Abby who goes to the venue earlier than everyone to make sure everything is ok.
☆ Milf Abby who stood at the altar with sweaty palms, waiting for your arrival.
☆ Milf Abby who started crying as soon as you start walking down the aisle.
☆ Milf Abby who couldn’t take her eyes off you the whole ceremony because she realized that this was it. She was marrying you.
☆ Milf Abby who shed more tears than you did during your vows and she cried even more when Aubrey came with the rings.
☆ Milf Abby who practically jumps on you when they said she could kiss you.
You felt her hands grab your face, and she brought you in for a rough kiss.
The crowned screamed around the two of you and you heard the clicks of all the cameras. You felt Abby’s lips smile against yours before she pulled away putting her head against yours.
She whispered “I’ll love you forever”
“I love you too abs, forever and always”
#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson tlou2#abby tlou2#abby#abby anderson#abby anderson angst#abby anderson drabble#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson fanfiction#abby anderson fic#abby anderson fluff#abby anderson headcanons#abby anderson imagine#abby anderson x f!reader#abby the last of us#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson x y/n#abby anderson x you#abby tlou#abby x fem!reader#abby x reader#abby x y/n#abby x you#muscle mommy abby
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Can I give a prompt?
What about Kirby not being scared by anything or anyone but then necrodeus walks in and Kirby is terrified and nobody understands why Kirby is scared of the a decrepit bag of bones like grandpa necrodeus
(You know for the whole, necrodeus canonically Can kill Kirby since mass attack is the only game in which Kirby dies in the game over)
I've only watched one playthrough of Mass Attack and it didn't show any KO's if I recall correctly, but the idea of Kirby being scared of some rickety old guy was still pretty funny to me.
Dedede and Meta Knight are ready to defend Kirby against what few things he may be afraid of, but this one might raise some eyebrows...
#ask#kirby#king dedede#meta knight#necrodeus#MA looked pretty challenging though#so I bet Kirby would at least be afraid of getting split into 10 and struggling like that again :o#also inbox has been closed until I'm confident new things won't get answered like three months later ^^;#meart
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Tokyo revengers groupchat
Warnings: suggestive, swearing, 5th grade humour, an unknown femboy is mentioned, Takeomi is homophobic but no one cares, also this has the Sano's and everyone involved or close to them
Desc: Shin gets his first date in like 10 years. Also this is the final timeline but events don't exactly match up to canon so👍
Shinichiro: GUYS
Shinichiro: I'M GOING ON A DATE😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭
Benkei: i don't care
Takeomi: congratulations. it's only been like 30 years
Wakasa: how many times have you started a conversation exactly like this? give up for all of our sakes. we're tired🙏
Takeomi: Shin there's nothing wrong with being single at your big age. it's not humiliating at all
Wakasa: aren't you single?😐
Shinichiro: screw you guys, actually ☹️
Benkei: emoji's are for children. stop using them. you're gonna frown? as a grown man? what's wrong with you
Shinichiro: what's wrong with frowning??
Shinichiro: YOU KNOW WHAT I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY A PRETTY GIRL ASKED ME ON A DATE
Shinichiro: we're meeting at a karaoke bar
Takeomi: if this happens to be real, do not drink
Takeomi: you get touchy when you're drunk and it's fucking weird😐
Wakasa: girls might think that's weird and creepy
Shinichiro: that was one time and i apologized
Takeomi: i don't give a fuck if you apologized you kissed me you fucking cunt
Takeomi: i don't even wanna talk about it i'm gonna vomit
Shinichiro: it was just a goodnight kiss. for the homies 😕
Wakasa: you stuck your tongue down his throat dude
Shinichiro: we were wearing socks so it was fine
Benkei: you just say shit
Shinchiro: you guys are ruining my vibe rn so i'm just gonna get ready for my date and the future love of my life
Shinchiro: she's so pretty i'm in love with her
Shinichiro: oh man i'm getting butterflies
Takeomi: send a pic
Shinchiro: you'll see her soon enough if things go well
Takeomi: guess i'm never seeing her
Sano affiliated groupchat
Inupi: idk a lot of us in here aren't Sano's and it kind of annoys me that this is what the groupchat's called
Mikey: get that stick out of your ass or leave like it's not that deep
Inupi: shut the fuck up you dwarf
Mikey: i'm the average height for a japanese male
Inupi: "i'm the average height for a japanese male🤓☝️"
Inupi: and no you're not. you're 5'3 and the average height is 5'7
Mikey: at least i have more than 3/4 of my face
Inupi: should you be saying that when you have a history of mutilating people's faces
Inupi: isn't that right Haruchiyo
Haruchiyo: kill yourself
Senju: girls, stop fighting
Emma: guys please not again
Draken: Inupi don't leave, Shinichiro wanted us here for something important so can we be civil for a few minutes
Inupi: whatever
Inupi: where is he anyway he said we should all be online cause of an emergency and he's not even here
Izana: are the old people here?
Takeomi: we're not old
Izana: ok grandpa
Kakucho: what's the emergency?
Benkei: fuck if we know
Wakasa: if i've come here to waste my time i'm gonna twist his dick off
Mikey: why do you want his dick in your hand🤨?
Wakasa: stop playing games Manjiro...
Benkei: is corporal punishment still legal
Mikey: i was kidding 😭
Mikey: also i'm a full grown adult so that would just be assault
Benkei: is assault still illegal
Emma: uh yes?
Benkei: i don't know why i asked because i'm going to do it anyway
Mikey: are your anger management classes even working💀?
Mikey: and lucky for me i'll be in Paris tmr for a fan meetup so😋
Shinchiro: hi guys
Wakasa: what do you want
Takeomi: i bet he fumbled
Mikey: fumbled what?
Takeomi: he had a date
Inupi: what's the emergency Shinichiro?
Shinchiro: i need you guys to answer these questions as quickly as possible
Shinichiro: what's a femboy??
Emma: now what does that have to do with the urgent emergency you told us you had?? i missed my pregnancy yoga classes for this? SHIN?
Senju: why is everything you do so unserious
Baji: Haruchiyo's a femboy
Haruchiyo: no the fuck i'm not you piece of shit
Mikey: you're not?
Haruchiyo: no??
Mikey: but you're pretty, and you look like a girl so?
Haruchiyo: no... but uh, thanks ig
Senju: girl stand up. this is embarrassing😕
Shinichiro: guys please this is serious i can't hide in the bathroom forever
Emma: what are you doing in the bathroom??
Shinichiro: i'm on my date right? so we're having a great time and we're singing and drinking and i tell her what a pretty girl she is and she says "girl?" and i'm like "yeah you're a pretty girl" and she says she's a femboy and i don't know what that means like what does "boy" have to do with anything so i went to the bathroom to ask you guys this question real quick because she said we're going to her apartment after this (!!!i think for sex!!!) but i'm just trying to clear up what she meant by the boy part
Baji: LMAOOOOOOO
Izana: it means "she" is a he
Izana: that's not a girl, it's a feminine presenting man. hence the description femboy
Mikey: I'M FUCKING CRYING 😭😭😭😭
Baji: can you even call yourself femboy when you're like in your 30's? that's a grown ass man
Takeomi: what's up with you and all these suspiciously gay situations
Wakasa: i think the universe is trying to tell you something
Benkei: how did you not know he was a guy
Shinichiro: because she's pretty! like a girl
Haruchiyo: *he's a guy
Shinichiro:
Baji: why's the cat sad. that's fucked up
Kakucho: it's basically how Senju looks like a boy most of the time and Haruchiyo looks like a girl
Takeomi: how did you not see a bulge or something
Shinchiro: she's wearing a skirt
Mikey: *he
Wakasa: and nothing was swinging out?
Izana: what kind of question is this
Emma: stop being vulgar Waka-nii😐. this is such a stupid conversation
Wakasa: aren't you a grown woman tho i feel like you can handle me talking about dicks
Shinchiro: holy shit she's a he
Inupi: can we go now
Baji: a hole is a hole
Emma: Baji ew😕
Takeomi: the difference between them is that one makes you gay because you're fucking a guy in the ass and the other one is normal
Baji: same difference
Takeomi: did you read what i just said
Mikey: he's illiterate
Baji: you can't insult me with a word i don't know the meaning of
Inupi: Shin what's the verdict?
Shinichiro: well...this is still a very pretty person so...
Takeomi: bro??
Shinichiro: is it that big of a deal tho?? i don't think it is
Shinichiro: yeah, this is fine
Shinichiro: is it all that gay if you're attracted to someone who looks like a woman?
Takeomi: if you're gonna fuck them, YES???
Benkei: he's lost it
Wakasa: i'm gonna need you to be sure about this because do you even know what to do? you're gonna embarrass yourself. you're not educated on gay sex at all
Baji: i can help with that
Draken: if i'm being honest i don't think you should take advice from anyone here at all
Baji: but i'm an expert
Mikey: we don't wanna know anything about what you and Chifuyu do 😐
Baji: yes you do
Inupi: google exists. just buy lube and condoms holy shit you guys are overcomplicating this so much
Mikey: of course you would know😒
Inupi: yeah i would know because i'm gay?? fucking idiot
Senju: are buttholes self lubricating? i can't be sure since i have constipation and my buttholes as dry as some tree bark
Haruchiyo: why would you tell us that
Takeomi: Senju watch how you talk. girls aren't suppose to say stuff like that
Senju: fine, next time i'll say anus to be more ladylike
Takeomi: and to answer your question, yes. because when you poop there's residue
Takeomi: you hear that Shin
Takeomi: shit in the ass
Takeomi: don't do this
Haruchiyo: you just told us you don't wipe your ass properly
Emma: i hate everyone here so bad omg
Draken: i think it's our cue to leave
Shinichiro: fuck it. i'm gonna do it
Shinichiro: thanks for the help guys! it is what it is at this point 😁
Shinichiro: bye!!
Mikey: i knew he'd eventually succumb to homosexuality
Takeomi: well since i'm homophobic i can't be his friend anymore
Benkei: no one cares
Benkei: Shinichiro successfully wasted our time once again
Benkei: i hope he gets an STD
Mikey: woah 😭
Emma: you're so fuckung dramatic😐
#didn't know how to end this one#uhh hope you like it#tokyo revengers#tokyo revengers manga#tokrev#tokyo revengers groupchat#tokyo revengers texts#sano manjiro/mikey#sano shinichiro#sano emma#izana kurokawa#baji keisuke#ryuguji ken/draken#inui seishu#akashi haruchiyo#akashi senju#akashi takeomi#imaushi wakasa#arashi keizou/benkei
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𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫- 𝐣.𝐜
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you meet jack’s family for the first time at thanksgiving dinner
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: i COMPLETELY made up the members of his family, mentions of thanksgiving although if you don’t celebrate its only briefly mentioned so you can just imagine its a regular dinner ☺️
𝐚/𝐧: happy thanksgiving to those who celebrate! j will most likely not be posting until this sunday, although it might vary
you finished your light makeup by applying a swipe of lipgloss. your auburn dress was the perfect length, being both cute and appropriate for the occasion. you were going to have thanksgiving dinner with all of jacks family.
there was one issue. in your six months of dating, you had never met anyone related to him. you would have liked to meet his mom earlier, but got as a rising actress, you got caught up in work and were constantly traveling to different states for events. however, from what jack described, she seemed precious.
but what if she didn’t like you? what if something goes wrong and you embarrass yourself in front of everyone? oh god, this dinner was really messing with your head.
“you almost ready, babe?” jack exclaims from the other room. you slip on your shoes and exit your bedroom, entering the living room where jack was. he was wearing a sweater that matched the color of your dress, and a pair of jeans.
jack stands up, and kisses your forehead. “you look good, y/n. my family will love you.” jack said, making you blush. his charm never failed to make you smile.
you hop in jacks car, leaving your hotel room. you bounce your leg up and down, nerves taking over you. jack places his hand on your thigh, the coldness of it sending shivers down your spine.
“seriously y/n, don’t stress. if it makes you feel better, you are a lot better than my last girlfriend.” he said to you.
he was right, his last relationship had been a little rocky, and the girl he was dating wasn’t exactly the nicest person out there. it pained you to know that someone could be so mean, especially to jack.
jack was the sweetest boy, who treated you with the respect that you lacked from other guys. he stood with you at your lowest points in life, and helped you grow as a person. you flourished during your relationship with him, becoming the best version of yourself.
and you helped jack, too. when he was alone and heartbroken, you swooped in and provided the love he so desperately deserved. when he fell down, you were always there to help him get back up. he was happier and better person with you around.
the car came to halt, as you pulled into the driveway of a small cozy home. a few other cars were already there, and you presumed that it was his family.
from what you heard, his aunt and uncle would be there, along with his older brother and his brothers wife. his grandma and grandpa would unfortunately not be attending, for they had caught a mild cold the day before. his sister-in-law had two daughters, one newborn and one six year old. you were great with kids, so they wouldn’t be an issue. you had spent your teenage years as a summer camp counselor.
you took a deep breath, and stepped outside of the car. jack interlocked your hands, and you both walk up to the door. he didn’t have to knock, and just walked in. everyone looked to see who it was, and when they did, a roar of greeting came from the crowd. jack hadn’t visited his hometown in a while, so there enthusiastic reactions weren’t unexpected.
the family then turned their attention to you, and you greeted them with a smile on your face. they smiled back, and started welcoming you.
“this is my girlfriend, y/n!” jack introduces you, and you start shaking everyones hands. you then got everyones, except the kids, names. jacks sister-in-law was named jessica, his aunt was shannon, his uncle brian, and his older brother was named joey.
then, jacks mom, anna, invites you, jessica, and shannon come help set up. jack heads off to the living room with the boys, and the rest follow anna to the kitchen.
“so, how long have you and jack been dating?” his mom asks, and you immediately reply with a joyful tone.
“around six months. i wish i could have met you sooner, but i’ve been nonstop traveling for work. also might i add, you did an excellent job raising him. he’s the sweetest and most caring boy i know.”
“you’re to kind! now tell me about yourself!” anna replies, and you start informing the group of your origin. you share silly stories about jack, and laugh uncontrollably together while finishing dinner.
you hear the shy voice of a young girl coming from the doorway, and look over to see jessica’s oldest daughter walking in. she walks over to her mommy, and tugs on her dress. the bashful kid whispers something into her mothers ear, and they both look at you. you start to feel slightly embarrassed, worried as to what they were talking about.
“oh, thats uncle jacks girlfriend, y/n! why don’t you go say hi. i’m sure she doesn’t bite.” jessica says out loud, and your cloud of worries clear up.
she walks up to you, and you squat down to her height. you can tell she’s a little nervous, and you try your best to seem welcoming.
“hi! i like your dress. its very pretty.” the young girl whispers out.
“thank you! i love your hair! it looks super cute.” you respond back, and she giggles and thanks you.
“do you wanna play barbies with me in the play room?” she asks, and you look back, making sure it’s okay that you stop helping with the food. everyone nods and encourages you to go with the small child, so you follow her to where her toys where.
you sit down, and she gives you a doll. you start playing with her, and the girl, evelyn, seems to be having a blast. you giggle and joke with her, glad you can get along with her.
“shhh you can’t tell uncle jack i said this, but he told dad that he really, really likes you. and he also said you’re the prettiest and funniest girl he’s ever met.” evelyn informs you, and you can’t help but blush. you continue chatting with her, now seeming to be a little more at ease.
anna calls the guys to the dining room, for dinner was almost ready. however, before she sends jessica to grab you and evelyn, she begins to say something to jack and the rest of the family.
“you know, i really like her. i think she’s the one.” everyone agrees with anna, and praises you for your generosity and amazing personality. jack loves hearing the groups words of approval, and he smiles, knowing you were definitely liked by his family.
the feast begins, and you chat with everyone in attempt to get to know them better. it was an excellent dinner. the food was amazing and the conversations were plentiful. time flew by, and before you knew it, you were saying your goodbyes.
as you drove back to the hotel, you and jack began talking. you couldn’t up but light up at his words.
“i think they really like you, y/n.”
taglist- @nowitsmissing, @nikoschrissis, @lvndryyhoe, @ieattoesforbreakfqst, @sevenheavxns, @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome, @imkillmyselfxoxo, @lumaxstans-blog, @ilovejackchampionnn, @hyeyulove, @jackchampiongf13, @sebastiansallowsgf, @michaelangdonsslut, @1212valee, @teenagedramaqueenlisa
some names wouldn’t let me tag :(
#ethan landry#jack champion#ethan landry angst#ethan landry smut#ethan landry x reader#jack champion x reader#jack champion x y/n#jack champion x actress! reader#fanfic#masterlist#liv’s writing !
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ok picture this
Batfam thinks RH is around Deatustrokes age Dick being dick starts calling him old man/ fossil/ Grandpa Jason has enough and one day just yells something like "IM younger than you!" Somehow this leads Tim to think RH is younger than him. Hes dramatic enough for it and he convinces the others as well
Dick is like. A baby. Hes a literall baby must protect.
Bruce is determined to get a backstory and is preparing custody documents
Alfred is getting another room ready
Meanwhile jason is adamantly trying not to be adopted again but catching on to what they think his inner thearter kid demands he messes wiith them
I actually have a fic with a some similar themes where the batfam first assume Jason must be this fourty something guy that used to date Jason until he lets slip that he’s actually… much younger. It’s called “What You’re Longing For (you claim to abhor)”
Ngl I love stories that have the bats question Hoods age pre-reveal. Like, who would first assume the new crime lord in town is literally a teenager instead of a grown ass dude? 😭
#jason todd#ghost talks#red hood#red hood is a literal baby don’t talk to me I’m having EMOTIONS#insert the meme EMOTIONAL DAMAGE#it’s just so sad okay#batfamily#batfam#bruce wayne#dick grayson#tim drake#batman
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Being my Uncle John.
Every year, On the 1st day of the six month, 2 males in Jacks family switch bodies for a month. Unfortunate for Jack, he is a male. But fortunate enough for him, he has never been switched, but this year would be different.
1 day before.
“Aw cmon bud its not that bad.” “You have never been switched before anyways.” said my Dad. “I know but what if this year is different?” I said. “Like I said, Its not that bad.” “Unless your luck runs out and you get switched for many years in a row like your Uncle mark.” “But that’ll never happen ha.” said my dad with a unsure tone. “Yeah I guess your right.” “How have you switched with before dad?” I said. “Oh I switched many times haha, With your uncle Mark, your uncle Tom, and even your grandpa Joe! hahaha.” “But for some reason your uncle John has never switched, lucky son of a bastard.” Im really hoping I don’t get switced but something inside of me wants me too. Just the thought of being a real man, just feels so right. Now its time to go to Bed and wake up as myself or even one of my uncles, I really hope I switch with one of my Uncles it just feels right.
The next day,
As I woke up, I knew something wasn’t right, it felt like my cock and everything else has doubled in size, I mean WOW, this cock is really huge! I mean i like girls and all but im way more attracted to men. I stood up on the side of the bed and just admired the manly body im in, as i looked closer I realized im in the body of my uncle John, which has also never been switched.
I was having fun being in this big body, but then I realized im gonna have to be John, he has a life, job, and even husband! good thing his husband is on a business trip and gets back on the day we switch back. I decided to call my “nephew”. “Yo how ya doing bud?” I said with a grin. “Im doing great Uncle John!” “How do you like being a man?” said Uncle John. “Amazing, how do you like being a teenager again?” I said. “Ha you are exactly how I was when I was a teenager.” Uncle John said. “Ok now lets get serious, how do I become you?” I said. “Ok first thing off, I have a job at the gym as a trainer, they should know what to do just hype them up.” “My husband is on a business trip so he shouldn’t be a problem, pretty easy right?” Uncle John said. “Yeah not so bad after all.” I then tell Uncle John how to pass as me and we eventually hang up. I now got dressed and jerked off before I headed to the Gym. It was amazing how much this body can come and how big my balls are now.
At the Gym I got greeted by some muscular men, which I tried to hide my boner from. Turns out I was pretty good as a trainer, It was like I’ve been doing this my whole life! After my shift, I decided to go take a sneak peek at the locker room, I mean just a peak right? Then I saw a guy with his package out and couldn’t help get cum a little. I mean, if John didn’t have a husband I would totally help him out. I then headed home and took a hot warm bath and played with my cock. I then went to bed. It’s pretty fun being uncle John I wish I could be him forever.
The next day,
Its now the next day and I woke up with a huge morning wood. It was the weekend which means I didn’t have to go to work and had the whole day to myself! But then I got a call from my husband, “Hey John, im coming back early in the afternoon can we have some.. alone time?” said my husband Joseph. “Of course my love, anything for you.” I said. “How is your families swap going? Do you know who switched?” Joseph said. “Uh no actually.” I said. “Okay well get ready for when I come back!” “definitely” I said then hanged up. I know how bad it seems lying but I just wanna feel how this body would be during sex.
In the afternoon,
As I was getting ready for uncle Johns husband to come back I got a call from uncle John, “Hey “Uncle John” is Joseph coming from home from his trip early?” Said Uncle john. “No he hasn’t called me or anything why?” I said lying. “Just wondering, If he is, please don’t do anything with him please.” Uncle John said. “Gotcha nephew.” I said and then hanged up. I felt bad lying to Uncle John but I just wanna experience getting fucked in this big manly body. An hour later Joseph knocked on the door and greeted me. “Hey babe, I’ve missed you and your big manly ass.” Joseph said. “I missed you too and that big monster.” I said. I knew it was wrong what I was doing but it was natural for some reason. Joseph then proceeds to take of his shoes and puts his feet on the coffee table. “Babe you know what to do.”Joseph said in a stern voice. “Oh yes master.” I said obeying his orders. I get down on my knees and lick his big manly feet.
He then proceeded to Unbuckle his pants.
“Now suck my cock boy.” “Yes sir.” I started sucking my “husbands” cock and loved the feeling. I loved being commanded by a big man and obeying him, I could do this forever.
“Now roll over and let me fuck your ass.” He then fucked my ass and I could feel the hot cum. “Good boy, Now continue to lick my feet and my armpits.”
We continued for about 18 minutes, I really did love him and could live happily with him forever. If only I could stay in this body forever. Joseph then left the store and Uncle John called me. “Hey uncle the switch is almost over, and be honest, did you jerk off or have sex in my body its important beca-” “I jerked off in your body and had sex with your husband im sorry I didn’t mean to.” I said regretting everything I have done. “YOU DID WHAT. NOW WE CANT SWITCH BACK.” Said my nephew angrily. But then I realized that this means my “uncle” is now my nephew, so I had more authority over him and he should obey me. “I don’t know who your talking to young man, but that is not a way to talk to your uncle John.” “The closest thing you get to this body is me fucking your teenager ass.” I said with a stern voice. I then hanged up and jerked off to the fact that im now John. I admired every inch of my body until Joseph came back. When he comes back im not gonna be the servant, Im gonna fuck his ass and command him to suck my dick.
#bodyswap#male body possession#male transformation#maletf#dad and son body swap#male tf#menbodyswap#himbotransformation#hunktransformation#bodyswitch#hotmen#gay men#male body swap#m2f transformation#malebodypossesion
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The Party Pt. 3
Inspired by @swapping-caps1-deactivated20220 The Party Pt. 1 and The Party Pt. 2
Oct. 31st Halloween 9:00 PM:
Mr. Thompson POV:
Approaching the Sigma Chi house with Xander, the pulsating bass reverberated through the street. A sea of people in funny costumes walked towards the entrance. I guess we were the only ones to get the message to show off tonight.
Flashing a smirk at Xander, I asked, "Are you ready?"
"Let's do this," he said.
Entering the house, we turned just about every head in the room. We attracted jealous stares from some of the frat guys and lustful looks from everyone else. Our destination was clear - the beer pong table.
Effortlessly sinking shots, we quickly found ourselves enjoying a pleasant buzz. Before I knew it, Xander and I had won 5 games. Xander, feeling the effects, started to get a bit handsy. Running his fingertips around my sweaty bare torso, and flirted, "Hey, you're on fire tonight," before biting his lip and turning away.
I shot him a playful "you're crazy, dude" as I blushed and then turned to the table, sinking my next shot.
Eventually, we migrated to the dance floor. As I danced, I could feel the lights playing across my face and the strength of Mitchell's body coursing through my veins. For the second time today, I looked down at my body and thought to myself “this is my body.”
Xander, Spiderman costume that clinging to his pumped-up muscles, danced up next to me. He flashed me a goofy smile as he playfully grabbed my bicep. He looked irresistibly cute.
Teasing him a bit, I flexed my arm, causing his hand to loosen its grip. Then, I reached down and pulled his waist toward me with one hand as I reached behind his neck with the other. Shocked for a moment, his lips were frozen, before he then pushed them back against mine as we hungrily embraced.
"Wow, I didn't think you swung that way," he said, almost out of breath, "but you have no idea how long I've wanted you to do that."
Looking back at him with a cocky smile, I replied, "I can't believe I waited so long … and I've got more surprises in store for you tonight."
Mitchell POV:
Freaking out, I couldn't shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control. Racing towards campus, I pushed my car's limits, the clock read 11:03 pm. I know my dad had said that he would swap me back when I finished all my work, but I don’t think we had time for that. The old folklore story said that the swap could be permanent if it lasted longer than 24 hours. I don’t know exactly when my dad swapped us, but I couldn’t have that much longer.
Arriving on campus, I rushed towards the Sigma Chi house. Bursting through the door, I quickly scanned the room, desperately looking for my dad or Xander. The sea of costumes made it challenging, and I had no idea what my dad would be wearing.
Amidst the laughter and thumping music, I couldn't spot them. Panic set in as I weaved through the crowd, desperately searching. Every passing moment heightened the urgency.
Suddenly, a frat bro stepped into my path. "Hey, old man, what are you doing here?" he sneered.
"I'm just looking for someone," I replied, trying to maintain composure and look around behind him.
He laughed mockingly, "I don’t think you’re on the guest list. Get lost, grandpa!"
Frustration bubbled within me, but I kept my cool. The frat bro, with a smug grin, pushed me towards the exit.
The door slammed shut behind me. leaving me standing outside in the cool fall night. Time was slipping away, and the unsettling realization that I might be trapped in this body forever.
Mr. Thompson POV:
After a few crazy hours at the Sigma Chi house, Xander and I decided to make our way back to his apartment. Stumbling through the doorway, we quickly made our way towards his bedroom.
Xander, still in his Spiderman costume, turned to me with a mischievous grin. "Well, well, well, look who's ready for more surprises," he said, his voice low and suggestive.
"I did promise you more surprises, didn't I?" I replied, pulling him in for another kiss.
As we tumbled onto the bed, Xander traced his fingertips across my chest, playfully circling them around my nipples.
I quickly peeled off his costume, leaving him in just his briefs before straddling over him in the bed. Bending down to make out with him again, I moved one hand to the elastic strap around his waist, slowly teasing it before finally taking off his underwear and then my own.
I reached down for my pants, which I had discarded on this floor, and fished out a condom. As I went to unwrap it, Xander looks up to me and says, “No need. Tonight, I want all of you.”
Greedily, I rubbed my uncut cock against his hole, lubed with precum and spit. As I slid myself in, I stared thrusting in long, slow strokes, whispering to him “fuck yeah baby, you’re so hot.”
It wasn’t long until I started to feel a familiar pressure growing in my cock. Just as Xander was about to push me over the edge, I activated my power. Suddenly, a familiar surge of energy burst out of my chest towards Xander’s body. Simultaneously, he felt himself launch into my body.
Now, from our new perspectives, I looked up at my face and gave the same cute smirk that had been driving me crazy all night. That was enough to send us both into a powerful orgasm. I felt Xander instinctively bend down and give me a kiss as he coated the inside of my borrowed hole.
Basking in the afterglow, I quickly swapped us back and laid down next to Xander, stroking the inside of his thigh.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Oh, just a little something I picked up from my father,” I responded. “We come from a long line of swappers.”
Xander, still confused, looked back at me.
“You were so sexy, I thought you deserved to know what it was like.” I flirted. “But I’ll be sure to ask you next time.
“Next time?” he said inquisitively. “Well, I like the sound of that.”
As Xander snuggled back up to little spoon me, I reached around his waist and gently kissed his neck. “I thought you might,” I said.
What he didn’t know was that that I locked in my future in this sexy body. You see, the folklore says, “In worst situations, swapper may never return to there original body especially if the swap last longer than 24 hours.” That’s true alright.
However, what the men in my family also found is that, if the swapper swaps with a third person while they were already swapped, they cannot return to their original body ever again.
As Xander and I drifted off to sleep, I reveled in my new sexy form. I thought to myself “this is my body now, and I deserve every inch of it.”
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☼ 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.
#feedback is very appreciated !#mingyu x reader#mingyu x you#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#seventeen scenarios#svt scenarios#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#mingyu imagines#mingyu scenarios#seventeen fanfic#mingyu fanfic
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