#source: pitch perfect 3
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Rhodes: Are you sure about this?
Tony: Have I ever let you down?
Rhodes: All the time.
Tony: What?
Rhodes: You're very unreliable. It's like one of the hallmarks of your personality.
Tony: You're not remembering all the times I've been awesome.
#source: pitch perfect 3#james rhodes#james rhodes incorrect quotes#war machine#tony stark#tony stark incorrect quotes#iron man#marvel incorrect quotes#marvel#avengers#avengers incorrect quotes
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*Y/N trying to help Tim calm down as he’s having a mental breakdown*
Y/N: Whatever is bothering you, I really think you should just stay true to yourself and it will all figure itself out.
Tim:
Tim: Y/N? Please hear this in the best way possible.
Y/N: yeah?
Tim: you’re a very stupid person.
Y/N: …
#source: pitch perfect 3#tim drake x reader#tim drake x you#tim drake is a menace#he can makes you rethink your whole life#dc incorrect quotes#dc x reader#batfam x reader#red robin dc
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Conversation
Peeta: Is anyone else scared?
Johanna: Not really. I’ve already lived longer than I expected.
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Devon: Are you sure about this?
Junior: Have I ever let you down?
Devon: All the time.
Junior: What?
Devon: You're very unreliable. It's like one of the hallmarks of your personality.
Junior: You're not remembering all the times I've been awesome.
#chucky#chucky 2021#junior wheeler#devon evans#teo briones#bjorgvin arnarson#incorrect quote#incorrect chucky quote#source: pitch perfect 3
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Shovel: I set fires to feel joy.
Karlach: That’s adorable.
#source: pitch perfect#baldur's gate#incorrect bhaalspawn quotes#baldur’s gate 3#bg3 shovel#bg3 karlach#karlach cliffgate
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Two blossoms on a single branch.
Ona Battle x reader
Triggers; Post partum anxiety. Angst.
Summary: After struggling with a crying baby for months and 100s of doctor appointments, you finally realise why the baby is crying.
Ona was always very clear on that she wanted to be a mom. She wanted kids, multiple of them. A family, a golden retriever, an suv: the whole shebang. The process from you getting pregnant through ivf wasn’t very long, you got lucky and it sticked on the first try. Or, she sticked. Your sweet daughter, Sofia was born on her duedate a bright sunny day in July. She was the most perfect newborn: she slept through the night fast and would only cry if she was hungry. She was all over just a very happy baby.
That lasted until she was 3 months, and let’s just say; hell broke loose. Your normally happy daughter had started crying at every chance she got. She would only be quiet if she was being rocked in her stroller or if she was being bounced back and forth. Sometimes, bouncing wasn’t even enough. You had spent hours upon hours each night trying to calm her so that Ona would get her sleep as her restitution was a part of her job. Being one of the best footballers in the world had its benefits.
You were pacing in the downstairs living room while walking back and forth between the couch and the kitchen in hopes that it would calm Sofia down. The now 1,5 year old was crying even after food, diaper, cuddlesand bathing. Nothing seemed to help. Her high pitched screaming was awful, and you knew that Ona had been developed postpartum anxiety that she was still working on. It was normal for partners, especially female partners to develope it as they naturally would fear that the baby wouldn’t connect. Ona hadn’t felt connected to the baby since the era of crying had begun. Every time Ona stepped into the room while she was crying, it would only get worse and you wouldn’t be able to calm her down. You were trying your best to support her, but sometimes you wished that you could have some support as you were running on 3 hours sleep every night for the last 9 months.
“Shh, baby, come here, you are okay. Mamma is here, princesa” You shushed as the high pitched screaming started just five minutes after you had put her down sleeping in her stroller. The stroller was where she usually slept best leaving you to have an inside stroller and an outside stroller. The little blonde was red from crying, her icy blue eyes full of tears as she grabbed your arm. You stood up and started rocking her again. Her crying was only escalating, and you were just hoping that Ona wouldn’t wake up. “Baby, mamma dosent know what’s wrong” You said as you tried to adjust her position to a more upright one. You had done everything we could; taken her to a bunch of doctors, chiropractors and therapists. Nothing was wrong with her, she was just fussy. You brushed her hair back from her face as it was drenched in tears. “Ai, mamma wishes she could understand you better, preciosa” you said as you walked towards the kitchen hoping that she was wanting her bottle. It was more of a comfort than a source of food as she was getting older, but she was still taking it. You pressed the baby brezza. The machine buzzed as the milk was mixed and warmed at the perfect temperature. You grabbed the bottle and tested it on your arm before taking it with you to the living room. You sat up in the big larger chair and supported your daughter on a pillow as you offered her the bottle. She thankfully accepted it as she kept drinking making the cutest whines you could ever imagine a baby making. Everytime she stopped crying, you were reminded of how sweet she was and how much you loved her.
The clock was now 6.30 and Ona entered the living room. You quickly gestured for her to not talk as Sofia had finally settled down. When Sofia would finally sleep, you wouldn’t dare to move. “Hi” you whispered as she shoot you an apologetic smile while slipping into the bathroom. You frowned. You missed your wife. You missed how she kissed you on your forehead, how she could hug you, how she would hold you and how she would cuddle you when you went to bed. Life hasn’t really allowed for any of that lately. Sofia wasn’t at a place where you could bring her to the trainings as she only cried. You loved being a football player, but you loved being Sofia’s mamma more so going back to work was paused.
After some time, Ona reappeared from the bathroom as she was fully dressed to go to work. “No breakfast, grabbing something at the arena” she said as she kissed your forehead and walked fast towards the door. “Baby?” You asked as she stopped with her back towards you holding tightly on to the door handle. “Mmm?” She responded, not turning around. Almost like a deer in the headlights. Sofia then woke up and turns her head towards her mami while blinking slowly. “Que, mi-» Ona started before she looked at Sofia in horror. “Ai, no-“ she said again as she was cut off by the familiar sound of Sofia fussing while she was looking at her mami. Her little lips forming into a pout as her feet was kicking and her hands were reaching towards Ona. Ona quickly walked out the door before saying “sorry” as she left. When the door closed, Sofia was once again screaming. “Ai, mi princesa, what’s wrong” you cooed as you tried to cradle her in your arms. It didn’t work as she only became more wiggly, and you were forced to put her down to give yourself a minute to breathe. She had been walking for a few months, so as soon as you, put her down she shot up while launching unsteadily towards the door only to fall on her butt when she tried to reach the doorknob. “Mama” she said as she started crying. You sighted and walked towards her to pick her up. “NO, Mama! Mama!” She screamed as she tried to throw herself backwards. “Baby, I’m here, mamma is here” You said as you catched her and leaned her body into you and she grabbed your sweater with all the might that her tiny fists could hold. “Mama” she cried as you stood confused while bouncing her back and forth in the living room. You stopped in front of the window to see Ona pull out of the parking lot in her Mercedes. You could hear Sofia fumbling with something behind your back as if she was playing with the shelf. “Baby, be caref-“ you said as you shifted her position to sit on your hip. Except she had something in her hands. A frame of you and Ona before Sofia was born. Ona holding your waist as you laughed together. Your absolute favourite picture of you together.
The little girl pointed to the picture as she sniffled. “Mama” she said as she pointed and hugged the frame into her body. You sat down with her in the couch and grabbed the picture as you held it up infront of her. “that’s Mamma” You said as you pointed towards you. “And that’s Mami” you said as you pointed towards Ona. Sofia sniffled as she wiped her nose with her hand before pointing towards Ona. “Mama” she said as you took a look at her and realised that she was trying to talk. “Mamma” you said as you pointed to yourself. “Mami” you said as you pointed towards Ona. “That’s mamma and Mami” You repeated as she sniffed. “Mami” she mumbled as you started at her in shock. “Yes Sofia! Mami, that’s right! Estas mami!” You said as you cheered, Sofia almost immediately clapping for herself. It was the first time that Sofia had been able to separate mamma from mami and you couldn’t be more proud as I wished that Ona would be here for it.
Later that day you tried to feed Sofia lunch after her midday nap. She wasn’t having it throwing the soft boiled paprika to the ground before the potatoes and the carrots followed. She cried, and cried, and cried and cried and cried. You let out a sight as you picked her up. “Preciousa, mamma knows that you are hungry” you said as you looked at her while she was crying. You closed your eyes and let out a sighed before taking a couple of deep breaths like the therapist had advised Ona to. “Okay preciousa, how about mamma make you some porridge, si?” You said as you reached over to the little girl and picked her up. She was still crying, but not as bad as before. It had probably something to do with the smell of the familiar porridge spreading around the house. It was one of the few things she liked, and it was the same porridge Ona had grown up with. The smell of milk, oats and cinnamon was wrapping your house in a feeling of bliss, comfort and familiarity. As the porridge was done, you buckled Sofia into her chair again before feeding it to her. She was luckily eating this time, but you could see that the exhaustion was taking its toll on her. You picked her up and got her all cleaned off as you headed towards the living room. Originally, you had wanted to keep her toys in her playroom but motherhood was rough and toys were now in every room. You sat Sofia down as she reached for her train. It was a blue train that Ona got her for her first birthday. She loved the train and would always bring it to bed when you tried putting her down for the first time at night. After a good 20 minutes of Sofia playing soundly on the floor giving you some well needed time to refresh your mind: the lock in the door clicked. Your eyes shot up as you immediately got scared. Ona was at practice and all of your family were busy. You grabbed Sofia terrified of whoever was behind the door. You held Sofia close as she looked up at you and was feeding off of your nervous energy. Your hand searched for your phone to be ready to dial for help as you gulped. The door-handle suddenly twisted and Sofia started her high pitched crying when she saw the face behind the door. It was Ona that had been told to go home early as she seemed exhausted. Sofia cried as she screamed and Ona looked like she was about to fall apart in the middle of the hallway. Sofia screamed as she reached her arms out and threw herself back in your arms trying to wiggle loose.
Then it hit you like a brick. Like a train. Like a trailer. As if the sky had just fallen down. Sofia wanted Ona. She wanted mami, not mamma. She was missing mami, and her little heart was longing for her mami’s warm touches. Sofia and Ona had a good relationship before the crying started, and you were just now able to put two pieces together. You sat down Sofia on the floor as you stood up and looked at Ona. Ona gulped as the toddler was stumbling towards her terrified of what would happen and her hand instinctively reached for the door. “Ona, stay.” You commanded as your daughter made her way towards Ona. She reached her front and stood at Ona’s legs trying to be picked up as she cried. Her little arms reaching up to Ona as she wanted to be close. “Mami,mami!” She yelled as Ona closed her eyes and took a breath while once again, looking like she was about to break down. She took a step a side causing your daughter to fall on her butt making her cry even louder. “She wants you” Ona said as she ushered towards the staircase and your master bedroom. You sighted as you picked up Sofia, and just as you were about to try and soothe her; you decided that it was time to try something new.
You walked after Ona with the screaming baby in your arms. Ona was sitting on the bed, her face in her hands while she was sobbing. Sofia stopped crying as she looked nervously at you. “Mami” she said as she pointed towards Ona. “Si princesa, estas mami, Mami is feeling sad. Maybe you wanna give her a cuddle, si?” You said as you slowly moved towards Ona scared that she was gonna leave again. You sat down next to her on the bed as your daughter sobbed. “Ona, what does Sofia call me?” You asked as Sofia sobbed in your arms. “Mamma” Ona responded still with her face hidden. “Si, and what is she saying?” You asked as you tried to console Ona. “Mamma” Ona said as she looked up at you, eyes red from crying. Just as you were about to continue your rambles, Sofia reached her arms for Ona and got out of your grip leaving her to bolt at Ona. “Mami, Mami” she cried as she grabbed the fabric of Ona’s sweater tightly, like she was scared that she would leave again. “She’s saying Mami” you said as you looked at Ona who wasn’t able to put the pieces of the puzzle together even thought you were basically giving her all the clues. “Mami” Sofia muttered as she frowned and sat down on her butt after not getting any attention. Ona’s eyes lit up as it finally clicked. She looked down at Sofia and instantly grabbed the little girl holding her close like she did when she was a baby. Sofia’s big blue eyes met Ona’s and a small smile formed on her face as she closed her eyes and relaxed. “Ona, she wants you. That’s why she’s crying. She wants her mami.” You said as you rubbed Ona’s back. You could see tears forming in Ona’s eyes as she studied the little girl suddenly seeing how eyes were icy blue, just the the most beautiful glacier she had ever seen. How her skin felt like the most expensive silk she had ever touched. Her finger traced her noce as she saw the little ski jump nose already making its mark on her face. The roses in her cheeks making her look so vulnerable. “Baby, mami’s here. Mami is so so sorry, but Mami is here now. Mami is never gonna disappoint you again, princesa. Mami is gonna get better, for you and for mamma.” She said as Sofia’s body finally relaxed and drifted off to sleep. You looked at Ona who looked like she had just discovered oil. She looked over at you as tears were forming in her eyes. “I’m sorry, mi amor. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m gonna take the week off, and we can have time together as a family. I haven’t been the best mami, but I’m gonna try to figure this out for you, for us. I’m sorry for diss-“ you cut her off with a kiss knowing this was finally it. Ona was finally ready to try to connect with her daughter again.
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You just spent the dirtiest night of your life with Geto Suguru.
a/n- this song reminded me of him<3 you could play it throughout the post if you'd like.
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One chance. That's what you told yourself and Geto before agreeing to go on a date with him. Everything about him was so alluring. You knew once you crossed a certain line with him, there would be no going back. Not with him. In the 3 years you worked with Geto Suguru, not once did you resist catching a glance at him. How could you not? When he looked at you as if you were his only source of life. He was perfect and amazing at everything he did. That's also why you loathed him. Anything you did, he would do it better, that too with such ease.
Hating him wasn't easy, either. Your seniors would want you to consult him if there was any issue. Got a problem with your paycheck? Ask Geto. Want a sick leave? Ask Geto. And wouldn't he enjoy it when you came to him, seeking help? His signature smirk plastered across his face every time you stood outside his office. He was so infuriating, yet so attractive.
One day, he finally pushed you over the edge. A sales pitch you worked on for weeks was scraped just because Geto had a better idea. 'Of course, they should just let him run the company, huh?' You made the not-so-graceful decision of walking out of the meeting and going back to your office. You got your stuff, clearly done for the day, and left the building soon after. Trying to haul the cab in horrendous city traffic only frustrated you further. That was until someone put their hand on your shoulder, almost making you jump.
There he stood, looking egregiously hot. He stood in front of you with his shoulder-length hair in a half bun and a shirt that hugged him just right. He fixed his tie before speaking up after what felt like an eternity of eye contact.
"I didn't mean for that to happen- look, (y/n). I know you hate me right now, but let me make it up to you."
And that's how you ended up here. Sitting in front of him so prettily, adorned in your most breathtaking dress and high heels- to look somewhat tall next to his large build. You made sure to look your best, and the way his eyes scanned your body made your efforts worth them. The glass of wine in your hand, long forgotten as you leaned back and heard him speak. The tension between you two was wild. The air was heavy and thick. The ambiance of the restaurant didn't help much, either. You were sure he picked such a place on purpose.
However, that wasn't the craziest part about tonight. It was the fact that you were enjoying this so much. His eyes never left yours, alternating between your lips and orbs while you spoke. He leaned in to 'hear' you better and 'accidentally' brushed his knees against yours. Tonight, there was something different in him. It was as if nothing was stopping him. Hunger was apparent in his eyes. He was determined to get what he wanted.
You saw through his game. You weren't dumb, and he knew it. He wanted you to make the first move. Moreover, with every second passing, it seemed more difficult not to do that.
"Easier said than done, love. You ne-", he stopped talking immediately. He had something better to focus on now. Your freshly manicured nails were currently placed on his thigh. If his winning this silly game meant what you thought it did, then you'd take it any day. You were attracted to Geto, more than anything at the moment. His eyes darkened and in the blink of an eye, his entire aura shifted. You felt smaller, and you didn't think that was possible with Geto. He called the waiter for the cheque almost as if in a hurry.
The two of you got up and he immediately took your hand in his, taking you towards the elevator, maybe. You didn't care. Not when Geto has you in such a state. And he hasn't even touched you yet.
The two of you enter the elevator, finally alone. He didn't react, though. All you wanted to do was kiss him, taste him, feel him. His calm composure, on the contrary, was far from your flustered state. He looked down to meet your gaze as you did the same, bodies facing each other, but not reacting.
The lift doors opened and he immediately walked out. You tried to keep up with him, but he was practically dragging you now. You entered the suite he'd booked for you and the man in front of you didn't even wait for the door to close before pinning you against it. He leaned down to make sure he was just above you, his hair falling out of place onto yours. You tucked the strands of his hair behind his ears before pulling him down to kiss him.
You could physically feel the smile on his face when you did, and he didn't spare you for a second. His hands immediately reached for your throat and the other one pressed your lower back to bring you closer to him. The kiss was electric, hot, passionate, and desperate. Geto Suguru kissed hard. He gently led you towards the bedroom- not breaking the kiss for a second. You felt ecstatic, his hand on your throat applying the slightest amount of pressure- the kiss which was so hot you felt dizzy already. Breaking apart to catch your breath; you looked into his eyes, his pupils were completely blown out; his hair was a mess now; he was so pretty.
He pushed you onto the bed and you were now lying on your back. Geto caged you in before kissing your jaw, your neck- biting and leaving marks with utmost grace. He kissed you on that spot behind your ears, to which you sharply exhaled. He smirked against your skin and whispered in your ears, "I haven't even done anything yet, and look how you're reacting." you rolled your eyes and scoffed before whining at the feeling of his teeth sinking into your soft skin. Your hands were on his neck, playing with his hair and occasionally tugging on them. It drove him crazy.
He gave you a genuine look as his hands landed on the hem of your dress, making sure you were still okay with this- to which you nodded. He slipped your dress off and tossed it aside, taking in what was in front of him. It was as if he was consuming you completely, his gaze was dark- it sucked you in, trapped you inside. You tugged on his hand for him to hurry. He kissed you again and you unbuttoned his shirt. You knew he had an amazing body, but it was nothing like you'd imagined. There really was not a single thing in him that you could complain about.
He kissed down your chest, taking off your bra and stopping right at your stomach. He looked straight into your eyes and said, "What do you want me to do, love?" your breath hitched and you hesitated. You felt more needy than ever, Geto knew that. But he had to show you he had power over you, didn't he?
"Geto, please. I need you," you said- whispered. He raised his eyebrow to indicate that he'll have to hear you again. "You'll have to be louder- and more specific." he retorted.
"I want you to fuck me, there?" you almost spat out. Only getting more and more frustrated. You sneaked in a 'please, Geto' to make sure he didn't get pissed. All he did was simply nod while taking off your lace panties. He didn't hesitate for a second before shoving two of his long, rough fingers into your cunt. A loud whine left your lips and your hands immediately covered your mouth, trying their best to muffle your moans- screams. His fingers were long. You meant that. He stretched you out and immediately began pumping in and out. He tutted and shook his head- almost as if he was disappointed.
"I wanna hear you, baby. Covering your pretty mouth won't help. And, it's Suguru for you." at this point, anything this man said only made you wetter. He found your g-spot effortlessly, abusing it as he added a third finger. "Fuck- Suguru, too much." your back arched and your breath hitched with every thrust. He could tell you were getting close. "Too much? This isn't enough, my love." his thumb was now on your clit, toying with it as if it wasn't making you whimper and moan out his name. His free hand caressed your face, tucking your hair behind your ear and locking fingers with yours.
You were close, lewd sounds echoed through the suite and his harsh, degrading comments only got you riled up more. "gonna cum- shit. hah- Suguru, more." He chuckled before picking up his pace. "Come on, come for me." pushing you over the edge. You screamed out his name and held onto his hand as your orgasm washed over you. It was ecstatic. Your body spasmed and you tried to catch your breath. Your orgasm barely passed by before you hear his trousers drop to the floor.
"Don't think we're done, love. I meant what I said. We're just getting started." he took off his boxers revealing what he'd been hiding the entire time. This man was big. And you meant that. A wave of shock and excitement passed your body as you gasped at the sight before you.
"Get on your knees for me." you nod and shuffle around till your knees and elbows are on the mattress, your ass is up and your hair brought to one side of your face. His hand trails along your spine kneads your ass before giving it a harsh slap.
“I’m gonna go slow at first, tell me when you’re comfortable, hm?” he says as he coats his cock with your slick. He aligns himself and slowly enters your hole. A sharp exhale left your mouth as you groaned and threw your head back. He was way bigger than you expected, you bit your lip to drift your attention away from the sting you felt. He leaned forward so that his chest was on your back now and he sank his teeth into your neck while entering you slowly. You whimpered and tears pooled in your eyes, carrying your mascara with them as they ran across your cheek. He kissed your tears away and whispered how ‘you’re such a good girl’ and you’re ‘so obedient for him’
After what felt like an eternity, he completely bottomed out and the pain slowly faded away- transforming into the most pleasure you’ve ever had. You gave him a quick nod which was his signal. He turned immediately. His pace increased and he went faster- harder. Your face was now smushed against the pillow while you screamed in pleasure. His hand rubbed against your overstimulated clit- only making you cry out more as you begged him to slow down, to go easy on you. His hips snapped against yours picking up his pace despite your cries.
You could feel your next orgasm nearing, feeling embarrassed over how much tighter your cunt got with every thrust, a groan left his lips and he grabbed a fistful of your hair to lift you up to his level, your back pressed against his strong chest.
“You’re gonna be a good slut for me and take it, yeah? I see the way you’d look at me everyday. Fucking me with your eyes in front of everyone. Now take it like a good girl.” you cried out his name and tried to grab his hand that was currently abusing your clit. Your choked cries and unsuccessful attempts at getting him to slow down did nothing but boost his ego more. He let go of your hair letting you fall back onto the pillow and grabbed your face, turning it to the side, “You’re not gonna look away, okay?” he said.
You bit your lip and nodded at him as you grabbed the bedsheets, seeking support from the silk sheet underneath the two of you. He thought you looked beautiful, your pouty lips were swollen and glistened with your own saliva on them, your cheeks stained with mascara and your eyes, half lidded and pooled with tears. You looked ethereal.
With a final thrust you came around him, crying out choked moans and whines as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you felt like you couldn’t think anymore. Geto thrusted into you throughout your orgasm and gently lifted you up while he fucked into you, you gasped as you still clinged onto him. This man was strong- he lifted you off the ground while fucking into you as if it was no big deal.
By the time you rode out your high, you realized you were pressed against the glass window of your suite. The cold glass made you hiss as you looked down at the busy street. Humiliation took over you as you looked at Geto with a confused face. You were tired, that's for sure. A mess. That was an accurate word to describe your state right now. Geto pulled out of your abused hole and you whined at the empty feeling, still breathing heavily from your last orgasm. He turned you around to face him.
"You alright there?" he tilted his face to the side and leaned down to lock lips with yours. He was soft, kind, and caring. At the same time time; he was rough, mean, and sadistic. He had you wrapped around his finger. You whispered his name out when he slowly entered you again. Your back arched and you dug your nails into his back. He hissed at your actions and groaned your name out. Your name left his lips as if it was his favourite word.
His pace increased and you clung onto him with every bit of strength left in you. Your mind felt foggy and you didn't know what took over you, you spoke up. "Suguru, let me ride you. Please." it was a weak whisper. He wouldn't have been able to hear you if it wasn't for how close the two of you were. He slowed down and carried you to the bed, placing you down before getting on. He made himself comfortable against the bedframe and tapped on his thigh, "There's nothing I would love more, love."
You weren't so sure if that was a mistake or not.
"Tired already? You've barely moved."
"So gorgeous, all f'me."
"Look at you, my cock-drunk princess."
"Want me to lend a hand?" he smirked. He had the 'genius' idea of tying your hands behind your back before you got on top of him. You definitely made a mistake with your suggestion. Your head was on his shoulder now. Your thighs felt like they were on fire. Every single movement made you cry out. He didn't help you out, either. His large cock only adding to your mix of pleasure and pain. He enjoyed this more than anything. Your struggle to take him and maintain balance riled him up even more. You groaned at his words and nodded into his shoulder.
"What was that? You're gonna have to tell me." you can't believe you almost forgot why you hated him so much. He grabbed your face by the neck and brought you to face him, inches apart. You bit your lip to muffle out your moans and rolled your eyes. He looked at you, waiting for you to speak. "Help me, Suguru." "Please," you added, before he spoke up, causing him to smile.
"Whatever you say, love," he whispered in your ear before gripping your hips and bucking his hips upwards. You gasped at the sudden movement and lost balance, falling back onto his shoulder as you cried out his name. He was close, and so were you. Your whines and moans of his name made him feel like his body was on fire. You had no idea how obsessed he was with you. And there you were, in front of him, breaking down because of him.
"Fuck, (y/n). You're driving me crazy." he pulled you up and looked at you, and you didn't dare to look away from him. No, if you did, you were sure he would ruin you. His words threw you over the edge as you tightened around him and came. He hissed at you and shot his seed into you. He held onto you as you clawed at his chest- riding out your high.
The two of you stayed in the same position for who knows how long. "I thought this was supposed to be an apology dinner." you panted out.
"Would you rather have that?"
"...no."
You let out a tired giggle before looking up to meet his eyes, smiling and pulling him into a simple, pure, passionate kiss.
"I still dislike you, though,"
“I wouldn’t pass a judgment so soon. After all, I’m not done with you yet.” he said, while his hands moved down your body.
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part two??
#geto suguru#geto x reader#geto smut#jjk geto#suguru#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jjk x reader smut#this is so hot please#i need this#Spotify
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every—lesser known—canon fact about Levi Ackerman.
infamously over the years, there have been countless false rumors about Levi in particular out of the cast. many of them have become popular, even ubiquitous, and it's annoying!
and also disheartening when you find out it's not true....
and hurtful when you realize it was - sometimes - made up by trolls.
so i'm making this post<3
credit to @levisfavoriteacup for the idea!!
*disclaimer: i'm not perfect, so this may not be Everything™️ but I am confident that it's the majority of information available, and that it's trustworthy. :)
First the most populars. There is no evidence across interviews nor other content over the years that:
Levi is ugly, and is considered ugly in AOT.
Nope. See here: (tumblr link), or:
Isayama finished his first sketch of Levi mostly on a whim, but the moment he drew his face, he had a sense it would work well / he knew he had something good. Something told him: "the yaoi fangirls are going to like this one".
As time passed and his popularity grew, Isayama caught onto this and wanted to portray him more attractively (in multiple ways) to the viewer/reader.
But from the beginning, this was something of the goal. He is short because Isayama had in mind what young women/fangirls in Japan consider attractive: a man with a higher-pitch voice; has a small face; and who is "short but strong".
In the world of AOT, he (in a nutshell) is mostly considered plain or awkward, but combined with his reputation and style, he's very charming. "He cleans up nice." Overall, it is positive :) But more importantly, realistic I think.
He's also something of a celebrity. People who advertise their product as being used by him are more successful; when he's seen in a shop, this by itself is considered "advertising" and more people come in. Quote: ""the tea that the hero bought”".
He's definitely not a 2/10 at any rate😇.
—the 24th episode of Naoki Yoshida's Anime Plan, 2013 / Interview with Frau Magazine, 2013 | Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure
Levi’s type would be someone who’s "tough, feminine and sensual".
Levi's type "might" be tall people. But context matters, because in multiple translations "don't you think?" and "might be" are thrown around a lot. Isayama isn't known for his clarity. When asked, he practically said the question right back.
—fan Q&A from a festival in Betsumaga, Aug.2014
What this quote might have come from is a statement by the author of an article Isayama was likely involved in. I can't say this is 100% canon, but in my opinion it's a little less canon than the Smartpass AUs; if those are sub-canon, then this is sub-sub-canon:
Levi's romantic type is someone who walks three steps behind him, and likes cleaning.
In the past, in Japanese culture, for a wife to walk three steps behind her husband implied highly traditional gender roles. What this is much more likely to mean is that Levi's romantic type is someone who will let him protect them, or will run away and survive even if it costs his life. (And they have to like cleaning.)
—the article is from 2013, and no longer exists. but the link was used as recently as 2021 as a source in this post by a reliable translator. I've found this quote also in varying qualities of translation across Japanese and English forums, so to the best of my knowledge, it's reliable.
Levi's cravat is a piece of his mother's dress + he was wearing her dress when Kenny found him.
This is a popular rumor that Isayama has never confirmed (i think it is true, tho.)
December 25th was chosen by his comrades because he doesn't know his actual birthday.
The guidebook only states that it is his birthday. I can't find any more context on this.
—AOT Guidebook; p.256
His character profile:
—AOT Guidebook; p.78–79
His name is Hebrew, and means "attached" or to be "joined".
Isayama came up with Levi's name after watching American documentary "Jesus Camp". (It's about a summer camp-type program where evangelical Christian children are taught extreme beliefs. One of the children was named Levi.) Isayama heard it and thought it sounded cool.
—Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) | 2010 blogpost by Isayama
Levi is in his early 30s (in s3/RtS/volume 19).
–Interview, Universal Studios Japan’s SNK THE REAL exhibition, 2016 | confirmation
If Kuchel was still alive, Levi would want to make sure she had an easy life. This means specifically filial piety, a concept exclusive to the East: he would fulfill his duties as a son for her.
(tldr he's a mama's boy :3)
—Bessatsu Magazine, 2019
Levi would have thin facial hair, but he prefers not to, so he shaves frequently.
—January 2020 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 124)
He doesn't like coffee milk or coffee jelly. They're out of the question even.🤐
—July 2018 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 106)
He just gets depressed when he drinks coffee. Maybe he loves tea that much?
He stopped calling Hange names like 'shitty glasses' since they became commander because he "seems" to respect their position that much.
However, a Smartpass story delves deeper into this (and states as I suspected):
[After Hange makes a joke] "Since becoming the commander succeeding Erwin, they’d toned down on their past speech and behaviour that had a touch of tomfoolery; Levi understanding that they were nevertheless trying to maintain the self “that was the case then”, also loses the will to curse at them."
+
"In the past, Hange had a Hange-type dream, and should have been progressing to that purpose. That lately, was it the weight of the office of commander, or was it due to the reality that is “all the world was our enemy”, their manner had changed considerably."
—May 2017 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 92) | Goodnight. Sweet dreams, dear. Act II: Levi
If he and Kenny had fought one-on-one, Levi would've won.
—December 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 87)
intermission: all about tea
His favorite "food" is black tea. No actual food.
He doesn't add sugar or milk to his tea because he considers it too expensive—which it is canonically. Despite this, he will share his tea with his comrades (his original squad as far as is seen).
Even though he's Captain, he'd rather drink it straight (the implications of which are he's a hardworking man, like that of a farmer. aka, this makes him seem humble).
If a time of peace ever came, Levi wants to open a black tea shop (he said in a dreamlike way, not so much based in reality).
He also knows a good amount of facts and history about it. He's a tea enthusiast!!
Levi receives pilfered tea in shipments monthly, thanks to Erwin.
—AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 2 | Part 1 | Taking shelter from the rain reprise: Levi and Peaure | Bessatsu Magazine, Jan.2014 | September 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 84) | AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman | The Case of the Corps Tea Party - File No. 09 Levi's Side (3/3) | sugar and milk in tea from the Japanese perspective
Levi, out of his original squad, found Petra cute/sweet in the general sense of the word "kawaii".
Like Levi's romantic type however, this was sort of a non-answer to the question (of whether Levi thought she was cute).
—2014 interview
After RtS, Levi seems to consider Hange and the 104th his family.
—AU Smartpass My First Time Around: Levi Ackerman
He wears a cravat because Isayama based part of his design off Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'.
He looks "delicate" because of his size and weight, but he's so powerful because [in issues before the reveal of the Ackerman bloodline] of "invisible power" at work.
—January 2016 issue of Bessatsu Magazine (chapter 76)
The best way to describe the way he thinks is to compare him to the main character from the movie The Hurt Locker (2008).
His character was born from Hiei from the manga 'Yuyu Hakusho', and Rorschach from the movie 'Watchmen'. The former was the basis for his appearance (especially his eyes), and the latter was the basis for his personality. Firstly though, Isayama had an image of a small man being the strongest.
—Hajime Isayama x Hikaru Suruga (2014) / Brutus Magazine (2014)
He is something of a protagonist (especially in s3p1).
— Animedia, June 2018
His favorite tool (in general...?) is microfiber cloths (for dust I guess. Levi has no need for weapons :3)
—July 2015 issue of Bessatsu Magazine
He will usually laugh/smile when he sees convenient cleaning goods (i.e., vacuum cleaners? feather dusters? ((cuz he's a shorty?❤️))
—Bessatsu Magazine, Dec. 2013
He does want to be taller sometimes.
He gets eager to clean up after meals rather than cook at all. He can cook, though.
—Bessatsu Magazine, Aug.2014 | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018
Levi mostly couldn't adapt to the changes that came about after the truth was discovered. Only he wears mostly the same uniform, cape, and blades.
After RtS, Levi personally retrieved Erwin's remains himself, for whom there was a special memorial service.
After Eren (inadvertently) called him a "tiny old man" in season 3, Levi didn't care, but when he thought of it by himself later, he was hurt (unclear exactly why).
Levi's father, most likely one of Kuchel's customers, is an insignificant man who's short. That's where Levi's height comes from. His face comes from his mother.
At the start of season 4, Levi didn't change much compared to the 104th because he's turning into an "old man" who'd rather stick with his flip phone so to speak.
He "doesn't break out into cold sweats". AKA he's always calm under pressure.
He considers prostitution to be an ordinary job because of his childhood.
Levi's vision is very sharp, way above average.
He thought Eren's new look beginning season 4 was unclean/dirty (in more ways than one perhaps).
—fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018
He has slight bouts of insomnia.
He never snaps/explodes when he's angry. But he does get angry or grumpy a lot, in general.
He doesn't sing. It's more likely he would dance.
If he was a fan of Momoiro Clover Z (jpop girl group), his favorite would be Momoka.
When/if he drinks, he has a high tolerance, but he can get a little drunk :)
One thing he highly hates and fears is mold.
He is the one who ordered Armin to dress as Historia during the uprising.
His blood type is A. Blood types are much like horoscopes in Japanese culture, and Levi's is as such: kichōmen, or well-organized; he likes keeping things neat, but can be stubborn and stressed out easily.
Whether he eats enough or has a good diet? He is "a bit lax".
Maybe he forgets to eat sometimes, or has a low appetite.
When Levi bathes, he goes for a quick shower then soak in hot water, which takes about ten minutes. Like a bird :'))
He on any given night gets about 2-3 hours of sleep.
He thought Eren was the best at cleaning (in season 3 / uprising arc).
Because of his childhood in the Underground, Levi has a preoccupation/obsession with cleaning (specifically to ward off disease).
He also doesn't have any pajamas, mostly keeping day clothes on when he goes to sleep - which is in "his" chair.
Levi cuts his own hair using clippers. (Something like:)
He's aware Oluo imitated him, and found it annoying.
Levi's horoscope (in general) as a Capricorn:
Humanity’s Strongest Soldier - Levi. He possesses warmth in the midst of a dispassionate nature, and he is capable of leadership without verbal expression – both of which are special qualities of a Capricorn. Capricorns tend to hold certain levels of authority, even if they must carry out somewhat unreasonable tactics while in such positions. But when such authority is backed up with actual abilities, a Capricorn can gain Levi’s type of confidence and also be put on a pedestal by those around them.
However, Capricorns won’t be dependent on others, much less trust them easily. They don’t hold high expectations and thus never feel a sense of failure.
Levi’s faults include the inability to express himself clearly. Even though he wants to encourage his companions, he always speaks in a roundabout way, and without Hanji’s translation it’s nearly impossible to understand Levi’s intended meaning.
Even though he is dependable in most situations, when it comes to love/romance, he expresses himself clumsily/awkwardly.
—FRaU Magazine, Aug.2014. | fan Q&A in Oyama, Oita, Mar.2018 | Levi: Close-up Report (Part One) | Translator
*the horoscope wasn't written by Isayama, but was published alongside canon information, and it's also not factually wrong, so I'm including it.
The dark circles under Levi’s eyes are to convey the “self-destruction” he takes on to reach the “standard” of Humanity’s Strongest.
—Interview on the topic of Levi, May 2015
His 'liege'—as Eren is to Mikasa, and Uri is to Kenny—is Erwin.
He is afraid of making deep relationships because of the cruel world he lives in; he can't know when someone he cares for will die or how soon.
That 'gap' left in Levi's heart by Kenny's death was filled by his squad (the 104th).
If Levi hadn't joined the Survey Corps, he would've been a "very irresponsible person". Risky with his life perhaps?
As a kid, Levi used to make himself stronger in order to receive praise from Kenny. When he abandoned him, he wondered what his strength was even for. He was able to find peace with Kenny after his death.
In CH72, the reason Levi kicked the shit out of Eren and Jean is because of his argument with Erwin earlier.
He knows he's a slave to his own strength, aka the idea of being a hero. He realizes it when Kenny asked what he's a slave to in s3/ch69.
—Answers Guidebook, Aug.2016
If he ever changed his appearance, the one thing Levi couldn't be able to give up is his undercut :') He would grow out the top and tie it up :3
—Oyama homecoming event Q&A in 2014 | 2 | 3
Levi knows how to use a gun, but he "places more trust" in knives.
—Bessatsu Magazine, 2019
Levi tolerates saunas. But instead of enjoying himself he seems to see it as a test of endurance. (LOL)
—Bessatsu Magazine, 2020
Levi has newspaper-level handwriting that he practices often. He's very conscious of it and being connected back to the Underground.
—AU Smartpass TEXT: Levi’s Signature
Isayama had considered killing Levi around the time of the thunderspear explosion. (As always) Isayama deliberated with his editors whether or not it'd be meaningful if he died, and they decided it wouldn't be.
—Kawakubo interview, 2021
Specially, Levi holds his swords in a reverse grip "his own way" since he wasn't officially trained.
—Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017
Levi forcefully bathes Hange by knocking them unconscious.
—AU Smartpass - Erwin & Levi Close Up Interview Part 1
Levi is 4 at the time that Kuchel dies.
—What the director informed Kamiya Hiroshi of on set
His character song is called "Dark Side of the Moon", found on YouTube here. Translated lyrics here.
how to draw Levi:
—AOT Guidebook; p.229 | +Illustrate Note Magazine, 2017
#please share... this took days of time and effort#levi aot#snk levi#snk levi ackerman#levi ackerman#levi attack on titan#captain levi#rivaille heichou#levi heichou#captain levi ackerman#levi rivaille#rivaille ackerman#aot manga#snk#levi art#levi shingeki no kyojin#attack on titan#levi.thoughts
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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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Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 6)
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5
GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous
Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader
Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)
Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Nudity. Language. Mentions of sex.
Word Count: 2.8k
A/N: Hello there! We're back in Morpheus' POV for this chapter. I've really enjoyed exploring the softer side of Morpheus with the aftercare but still keeping that foreboding undertones. Hope you like it too. Let me know what you think! All my love, Saskia xx
Sandman Masterlist
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Morpheus can see he has pushed your body to breaking point.
The only movements you are able to make are those that are involuntary. The intake of breath, sharp and shallow. The blink of eyelids, slow and drowsy. And the aftershocks feathering along the walls that still hug his softening cock.
The rapture of his own high vibrates in every cell, the humanoid form he takes being the epicentre, with waves of it expanding out across the expanse of the Dreaming, bathing it all in euphoria. He smiles faintly - anyone asleep during your union would have been privy to it in some aspect. Flashes of noises and sensations perhaps, or images of you entangled with him.
With a tender gaze, he looks at your exhausted form. He takes time to notice the details that others might have overlooked. The gradient of the dip of your navel. The vellus hair gracing your skin. The delicate lines on your face brought on by years of smiles. Every inch of you is perfection, the starshine streaming down enhancing your already incandescent air. Soulmate or not, you are the most remarkable person he has met.
There is no denying that you are to be his muse. Now that he has introduced you to his world he can resume work on creating new dreams, and your temperament and features are inspiring him already. His dreamers will be spoiled once the concepts are given life and sent forth into the Dreaming.
He is pulled away from observing your body by the sudden overflowing of silent tears. In the glow of the room, as they track down your cheeks, their lustre is like pearls washed up on a lonely seashore.
He's searching your expression for an indication to the source before they get close to wetting the sheets, cupping your face instinctually as feverous fear infects him. Is pain afflicting you?
His initial assessment gleans that they are falling despite there being no tangible signs of pain or sorrow, anger nor disgust. Further investigation is required.
He drops his register to the mellowest he can manage, whispering your name first, next asking, "Are you alright?"
You dip your chin in a solitary nod. A truthful nod.
You then take a deep breath, voice hoarse as you speak, "I just -"
Words fail you and you look down at your chest in lieu of finding the desired descriptors, hoping that he would catch on.
Your soul.
You make a little high-pitched sound in the back of your throat as he places a palm over its housing. Still very sensitive. With good reason.
Those last layers of defences that had been protecting you from the intensity of the soul bond had been steadfast in their resistance. Of course, they were never going to prevail over him, being the Endless that he is, yet the challenge could not be denied.
And now the conquest was over. He had you exactly where he wanted; physical form in the Dreaming, the Fates' prophecy fulfilled, soul tie complete.
He zeros in on your soul, using his aptitude for the metaphysical to see it in its actual form. The ball of light, two centimetres in diameter, that not too long ago was shattered, now criss-crossed with threads of rich blue, reminiscent of Kintsugi pottery. A mark of the small amount of his power - power that he'd quite literally fucked into you, that was slowly spreading out from your soul through your body, altering as it went. Only time would tell as to what enhancements it would bring if any.
His own soul was cleaved open at the end too, now infused with your essence; twines of seafoam green that he can feel rebalancing the constitution left so weary and depleted by his imprisonment.
It also appears that your mortality has been removed in the process; you are as eternal as he is now. He's against broaching this with you presently, feeling it would be misguided to do so. At this point in time you deserve the most diligent and gentle aftercare. It was your first time; you had trusted him with your wellbeing and that meant the moments after as well.
He will make his touches and movements so very delicate from here, continuing to keep his focus on your facial expressions and body language as much as possible.
Beginning with how he rises out of the position he had held over your body, giving him the ability to ease your crossed ankles out of the firm grip around his waist. Reluctantly, he withdraws himself from the warmth of your core, more trembles breaking free from the fluidity of the movement.
It makes you whimper loudly, the unintended stimulation and the way he guides your legs down to the mattress, as the recognition of how locked up your thigh and calf muscles are bark in your nerve endings.
"Would you allow me to clean you?" He asks, gesturing to the fluids that are now leaking from your cunt.
You seem surprised yet you agree nonetheless.
He conjures a bowl of water and a linen cloth, setting the former to the side of your right hip. The display has you propping yourself up on your forearms, fascinated by the shaping of form that comes so naturally to him. He moistens the fabric, pitter patters emanating erratically as he squeezes out the excess.
"I will stop if it is too much." A promise made while holding eye contact before beginning a gentle yet meticulous cleanse, re-dunking the cloth when needed.
Aside from a couple of flinches early on when he brushes over your clit, you cope with the touches very well, and Morpheus shows he acknowledges this in the murmured praises he looses with the completion of each swipe.
A stumble in your breathing has him stopping immediately though, drawing his attention to your startled face, eyes wide as you take in the pinkish tinge of colour in the water.
"Shit. I'm so sorry. I can finish taking care of it," your voice is warbled as you try and fail to close your trembling legs.
He puts a steady hand on your knee. "You have no reason to apologise."
A little dimple forms between your eyebrows, lips pulled thin by a grimace; evidently you are unconvinced.
"I want to take care of your needs. Please let me," he says with gentle candidness.
You blow out an unsteady breath as you struggle to look at him, attention darting all around the room, actively choosing to go anywhere but towards him.
These hallmarks of humiliation, vulnerability, they unreservedly rile him. Who had made you feel like this was unacceptable? No doubt your world's societal norms. Though Morpheus has seen improvements in them in recent years, there are lingering, foolish ideals on what was decorous when it came to the human body.
He relays his thoughts on the matter, "It is a natural occurrence, as natural as any other bleeding from broken skin. There is nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N."
He lets the reassurance settle in as he rubs his free hand up and down the outside of your left thigh.
"You know I speak the truth," he adds when you still remain silent.
Eventually you let your head slump back. "You're right."
His chest swells with pride at his successful reframing. "May I continue?"
You make a noise of affirmation.
Once he is done, the bowl and cloth de-materialise along with the patches of fluid that had been glistening on the sheets.
He leaves the space between your splayed legs, pausing as he kneels next you. You look like a ragdoll that has been dropped from a great height, limbs askew and head limp. He wishes to scoop you into his arms and re-arrange you, cocooning your beautiful body in the most luxurious fabrics his mind can create. So he does just that.
With a hand flat between your shoulder blades and another under your knees, he moves you to lay further up the bed, fashioning a sumptuous silk sheet to settle over you, a twin of the one tucked over the mattress. A knitted cashmere throw weighs down the sheet to seal in warmth. The last step is a plump pillow; he cradles your head carefully as he positions it.
"Thank you," you say shyly as he puts his head on an identical pillow, laying on his side so he can watch you.
"You are most welcome, my soulmate."
A beat. "Is there something I can do for you, Morpheus?"
He feels a thrill go through him, lust rising once more. Hearing his name on your lips is everything. Undoubtedly it always will be. He's instantly grappling with the urge to fuck you again and it is by sheer force of will he just manages to leash his lust.
"All I require is proximity to you," his words sounding much more gallant than he feels.
With visible effort, you roll onto your side, intent on providing him with delightful closeness despite the aches. Face to face, he decides now is time for a debrief.
"Is there anything you wish to discuss about the acts we performed together?"
You fiddle with your fingers, tentatively asking, "Did I do okay?"
The question is so endearing, it makes his chest tighten.
"Yes. You were, are perfection."
He catches the bashful glance your throw towards him and he draws even closer.
You had done so very well, taking everything in your stride since he found you in the waking world. Gone through a myriad of emotions, dealt with intense, sometimes painful physical reactions. And the sex... Well.
He runs a hand from your temple to jaw a few times to distract from the ever-mounting desires, thankfully taking the edge off with the affections.
"It is true. You are so trusting, communicative, generous. Receptive."
You huff out a noise of amusement. "How do you know that I wouldn't respond like that to everyone?"
Possessive jealousy drives a dagger into his heart, stiffening every part of his being, hackles rising as the sickening idea of anyone else touching you takes form in his expert imagination. Your question had been teasing - obvious from the impish quality in your eyes yet he cannot stop the rage that flares at the idea.
He extinguishes his temper, pushing it into the usual spot deep within, speaking with a level and authoritative cadence.
"You were not meant to be touched by anyone but me."
He holds your gaze resolutely, fascinated by how your pupils dilate from the covetous statement, fingers digging into the softness of your behind to add further weight to his claim.
"You derive pleasure from hearing me say that."
"Yes," you confirm, a telling half-smile appearing. "Though it would appear I am not the only one."
You nudge against the growing erection hidden by the sheets with your knuckles. The simple touch is a catalyst, his restraint almost breaking, eyes shifting to match the backdrop of the night sky above you both.
"Not right now," you assert.
His answering glare makes you raise your eyebrows. But you do not back down.
"Very well. I will keep myself contained. For the time being."
You press a sweet, quick kiss to his cheek. "I appreciate you enduring such hardship."
You laugh a little at the end of the teasing sentence. It is an effervescent sound, one that makes him feel so alive. When was the last time he truly felt like that?
He would do anything to keep you laughing like that, make you happy.
Inspired by that sentiment, he drapes an arm over your body and pulls you closer. You sigh in contentment, smiling warmly at him.
A crescent moon rises to accompany the stars in the ceiling sky. The slip of light it reflects is as peace-giving as your skin against his. Quiet descends.
Finally - after the frenzied events of the past couple of hours, the delirium that had ensnared the both of you in body and mind, spurring him to reveal the truth to you and initiate the binding of your souls - finally everything stills.
And in this stillness, after a considerable number of minutes, Morpheus begins to register the results of the soul bond between you; a direct line broadcasting your every emotion to him even though you are awake.
They are not particularly stable right now, kaleidoscopic in how quickly they evolve from one to the next. He is accustomed to knowing humanity's emotions, exposed to every facet of them for millennia yet this is different. With the dreamers there is a certain level of detachment. Being his soulmate, the impartiality is gone.
He is peering around the curtain.
And the emotions you are feeling are about him, directly influenced by him.
Exhilaration, fondness, trepidation, pensiveness.
His eyelids flutter at the intimacy, mouth dropping open with a shaky sigh.
"What is it?" You ask immediately as worry enters the mix. How adorable that your reflex was concern for him.
"Our soul bond is strengthening. I can feel your emotions."
You blink, stimulated by the notion first, then disappointed. "I can't feel anything coming from you."
"Give it time," he reassures.
"How much time?"
A little smile quirks his lips from your charming impatience.
"A few hours. Perhaps more."
Curiosity dances in your eyes as well as your mind; you study him closely, teeth nibbling on your bottom lip. "What's it like?"
"It is quite diverting."
In fact, it is the sort of thing that has potential to consume his every thought. He will have to be cautious of how much time he is dialled into the bond. As long as he makes the rules now then he will be okay. No over-use. No over-reliance.
A brush of fingers across the back of his hand, the inside of his wrist. "Tell me what you're feeling, Morpheus," you whisper.
He pulls himself from the compelling information flowing from you and takes a reading of his own internal state.
It's tempting to lay it all on the table. To tell you of the powerful emotional reactions happening. But he won't. The emotions must be compressed into something more regulated. He chooses the words carefully:
"I am wholly contented."
Joy and relief swirl from you and you kiss him. The softness of your lips help soothe the fierce feelings and when you part, Morpheus is fully reigned in.
He notes that your eyes are drifting now, glassy with oncoming sleep.
He rubs a thumb across your cheekbone.
"It is okay if you want to fall asleep," he murmurs. "My only request is that you permit me to hold you, so I may monitor how things progress."
There is much acclimation to be made. The scalding heat that had been rampant under his own skin has only just dropped to a simmer, let alone all the things to come. He must not leave your side until your body has adjusted to the energy within you.
"I wouldn't say no to sleep," you say with a lethargic smile.
He eases you into a nearer proximity. An arm slung across your middle. Legs tangling together. You nuzzle against the skin of his neck, inhaling deeply as if his scent could knock you right out.
"Good night, soulmate."
He kisses the top of your head, replying with the same.
You place a palm over his soul. "Thank you, Morpheus. For answering all my questions and being so patient with me."
"It is the least I can do, Y/N."
As soon as you are fully under he peers at you, cheeks already rosy from the warmth of the sheets and his body, lips parted. You appear serene on the surface - he decides to lean into that link one last time for tonight.
Morpheus keeps still as you sink into subconsciousness. Not a hard feat for him; he mastered that art long ago. Crossing the threshold into sleep is smooth for you, exhaustion efficiently picking the lock.
Yes. There it is. Evidence that you feel safe and happy. He has done his job well. Now to maintain this level of performance. For your sake as well as his own.
Your presence is the first rain after a drought. A lighthouse on a treacherous stormy night. You are an antidote to a poison that he hadn't realised he was choking on. You are healing him, just as he knew you would.
And there are measures that must be taken to keep it that way.
-------------------------------------
Tag list: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt @littleblackcatinwonderland @1950schick @lollipopsandlandmines
"Controlling my feelings for too long. Forcing our darkest souls to unfold. Pushing us into self destruction. They make me, make me dream your dreams."
#the sandman#sandman#the sandman netflix#the sandman 2022#morpheus#morpheus x reader#morpheus/dream#morpheus/dream x reader#lord morpheus#dream#dream x reader#dream of the endless#dream of the endless x reader#dream smut#sandman smut#dream of the endless smut#dark morpheus#dark!morpheus#the endless#the dreaming#soulmates#angst#smut#tom sturridge#the sandman imagine#the sandman fic#the sandman fanfiction#fanfic#saskia writes sandman#Spotify
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the more that you say the less i know
part 3 of bent right to your wind | main masterlist
vampire!wanda maximoff x vampire!natasha romanoff x witch!reader
summary: things become more complicated between you, natasha and wanda. a dangerous prophecy is revealed.
warnings: blood, biting, blood sucking, blood consumption, vampires, witches, groping
a/n: took a while but here it is!
🚩 warnings are clearly stated please do not report/flag :) 🚩
words: 4.9k | feedback is always welcome
divider source
Natasha held your face against hers, her hand softly cupping your chin as you kissed her back. Her lips were soft, gentle. You felt stuck in a trance as her tongue slipped into your mouth. Your hands slid up to her waist, pulling her into you. Natasha smiled against your lips, taking the opportunity to straddle your hips.
Your heart beat loud in your chest, your hands drifting down to Natasha’s thighs. The redhead’s hand drifted down to your throat, making you moan against her lips. She trailed her lips down to your neck, her strong fingers expertly forcing your head to the side. You could feel her sharp fangs grazing along the length of your neck.
Natasha felt drunk on your scent, mouth watering the longer she spent nestled in the crook of your neck. Your hands entangled in her long red hair, pulling at the roots making her groan against your skin. You felt her hips grind against yours as you sighed in pleasure, holding her against you. Natasha wasn’t sure what took over her, she didn’t know if it was the way your nails scraped her scalp, or the way you trailed your hand down to her hip to pull her impossibly closer to you. Her fangs sank into your skin in the midst of lustful breathy moans, eliciting a surprised gasp from you, eyes previously shut in pleasure now wide open in shock.
Your shock was short-lived as Natasha’s actions suddenly caught up to her and she found the will to pull away. The redhead’s expression almost mirrored yours, her wide pitch black eyes threw you off, her previous vibrant green completely gone. She blinked, her color starting to come back as she relaxed once again.
“Fuck, I- I’m sorry,” She pushed your hair to the side to check on the damage she’d done to find the small marks on your neck has already faded to pink, almost invisible. She tilted her head before looking back at you.
“I heal fast,” You giggled, noticing a smear of your blood on the corner of her lip. You cupped her face, her breath hitching as she watched your eyes focus on the spot on her face and felt as your thumb wiped the blood from her skin. “You got something there.”
Your whole body burned as Natasha took the tip of your thumb past her lips, sucking the digit clean. Your mouth fell agape, her warm tongue swirling over your finger before she pulled back and released it with a smirk.
“I’ve never tasted blood so sweet,” She said, leaning closer, eyes lingering on where her teeth had previously been. She felt her mouth water once again, the small amount she had eliciting an intense craving she never knew she could feel. She was hooked.
“I’ve never felt anything like that before,” You answered truthfully, subtly pulling her closer. Your lips met hers once again, quickly evolving into something needier, more desperate. Natasha couldn’t get enough. Her lips once again trailed to your jaw and you could feel her hesitation in the way her body tensed atop yours.
“You don’t have to be scared,” She pulled away at your voice as your hands found her hair again. “You can have another taste.”
“Are you sure?” Natasha’s eyes sparkled, mouth watering at the thought of tasting you again. You nodded, pulling her in once again, letting her tongue explore your mouth before you leaned your head back, letting her have unrestricted access to your neck.
She kissed down the column of your neck as her hands came up to your chest. Even over your shirt, her hands found the perfect spots that sent goosebumps down your arms and a moan past your lips. She smirked against your skin, enjoying the way her name sounded from your lips. Her tongue licked a stripe down your neck back to your pulse point. Her fangs sank into your skin once again, making your nails dig into her skin and your eyes roll to the back of your head as she sucked, the pain from your neck and pleasure from her hands on your chest driving you crazy.
Natasha sucked fervently. A steady flow of your blood filling her mouth perfectly, keeping her in a trance. She could hear small moans from you, your grip on her faltering as you became light headed. She noticed your state and immediately pulled away, licking over your puncture wounds before she watched them heal over.
“Maybe that’s enough for today, don’t you think, sweetness?” She kissed your cheek as you blinked back into consciousness. You felt her thumbs brush over your nipples before she gave your tits one last squeeze. You moaned as her lips met yours again, her teeth tugging at your bottom lip.
Your hands slid down to her arms as she pulled away from you, your eyes fluttering back open as you felt yourself quickly recovering. Natasha’s thumb ran over your bottom lip. “Let’s get you back to your room.”
-
Wanda felt guilty. She shouldn't. What she had with Yelena wasn’t anything serious, it was casual at best. So why did this knot in her stomach feel so heavy? Wanda sat on the couch of the lobby, picking at her nails as Yelena read a book next to her. Her hand made its way to Wanda’s thigh, breaking her concentration on her nails. Wanda slid Yelena’s hand off her thigh just as fast as it got there before crossing her legs, catching the other woman’s attention.
“What’s this about?” The blonde asked, turning to Wanda who kept her eyes on her hands.
“Nothing,” She answered, taking a breath and finally turning to her. “I’m just not feeling it tonight.”
“You’re not feeling my hand on your thigh?” She put her book down on her other side, watching as Wanda bit the inside of her cheek in nervousness. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the girl you walked in here hand in hand with, right?”
“You saw that?” Wanda asked, her head turning towards Yelena but refusing to make eye contact.
“Yeah, I saw it,” She answered. “Why are you so nervous about it?”
Wanda finally looked up at her. “You know we’re not serious, it’s fine.”
“I know, it’s just-” Wanda was at a loss of words. She knew they weren’t serious, but she still felt so guilty. “She means a lot to me.”
“How can she mean so much to you? Wanda, I’ve known you for almost a decade and I’ve never seen her.”
“I knew her from before,” She answered, feeling the need to defend you. “From before all this.”
“Oh, is she a vampire too?” Yelena was intrigued, it wasn’t often they ran into other vampires in this town.
“No, she’s a witch,” Wanda answered, Yelena’s demeanor changed almost instantly.
“Wanda, you have to be careful,” The blonde warned. “Witches have ulterior motives, plus the blood moon is coming up, I wouldn’t get too close.”
“Yelena, she’s my person,” Wanda wanted to have you in her arms again. “She wouldn’t hurt me.”
“That’s exactly why I’m telling you to be careful, you’re exactly the type of person she would need to get the chalice.”
Wanda was taken aback. You wouldn’t do that to her. But why else would you just show up right before the blood moon?
“Just be careful,” Yelena sighed. Wanda leaned back against the back of the couch, a concentrated furrow between her eyebrows. You seemed just as surprised to see her, but maybe you just tricked Wanda to think that. The brunette’s thoughts swirled in her head, you were the first witch she’d met. Wanda had been told they were wiped from existence a long time ago, before she even came back to town. She needed to find out why you were here.
—
“Are you gonna be okay for the night?” Natasha asked, her hand on your lower back guiding you down the hallway towards your door. You smiled, turning towards her once you reached your door.
“I think so,” You said, letting Natasha run her eyes over your body and pull you closer by your waist. You get lost in her green eyes for what feels like the millionth time that night, feeling all your thoughts melt away as you gazed into her eyes.
“You sure?” Natasha’s back hit the wall as your bodies pressed together, you hadn’t even realized you were leaning into her. Not that you were complaining. Natasha let your hands roam, enjoying your touch against her skin.
“Um,” You were at a loss for words again, Natasha’s presence was intense. You couldn’t remember why you wanted to be alone.
The clearing of a throat brought you out of the moment. You didn’t catch Natasha’s eye roll as you turned towards Wanda, who was awkwardly standing in the hallway. She didn’t like seeing you this close to Natasha, and after the moment the two of you had shared earlier, she felt hurt. But she couldn’t blame you, the look you sent her from the elevator playing over and over again in her mind.
“Wanda,” Her round eyes stared back at you, just as caught off guard by the scene in front of her. Your eyes fell to the floor, feeling as though you’d done something wrong. Your moment with Wanda in the woods replayed in your mind. This wasn’t like you, you were confused. Natasha looked between you and Wanda, a smug smirk on her face.
“I’ll let you be then,” Natasha leaned in, her lips pressing against your cheek and lingering there as if to show off for Wanda. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
You pried your eyes off the floor and sent Natasha a small smile, before turning towards your door.
“Y/N,” Wanda said, reaching forward to keep you from going into your room. “Please, can we talk?”
You considered it, your brain felt overworked. You felt like you’d had enough for one day. “I’m tired, Wanda. Unlike you, I actually need sleep.”
“Please, Y/N,” Wanda persisted, your grip on the door handle faltering. “Let me explain—”
“Explain how you kissed me then acted like you didn’t know me?” You felt mad at her all over again. You didn’t like feeling mad at Wanda, but you were hurt, and you didn’t know how else to react.
“I was caught off guard,” Wanda answered, she tugged on your hand to make you look at her again. Wanda felt seen under your gaze. “It’s been three centuries, I never thought you coming back into my life was even a possibility.”
You finally met her gaze. You saw the sincerity in her eyes, and felt terrible for what you did with Natasha. You felt like you’d had an out of body experience. You remember wanting to do everything you did, but you couldn’t regret it more now. Your hand went up to wipe against your neck, you felt dirty. Wanda’s eyes followed your hand, her enhanced vision catching the faint bite mark on your skin. She felt a pang in her chest at the site. Natasha had gotten so much more of you than Wanda wanted anyone to have within such a short amount of time.
“Do you wanna come in?” You hoped she would, you wanted the comfort of her embrace again.
Wanda sent you a shy smile, nodding her head before you pushed the door open. She followed you in, taking the room in and smiling at how you’d made it feel so homey in such a short amount of time.
“Make yourself comfortable, I’m just gonna change,” You said. You picked up a shirt and loose shorts from your duffel bag, before walking into the bathroom. With one wave of your arms over your body you cleaned up and got ready for bed. Wanda had just enough time to sit on the bed before you came out of the bathroom, clean and wearing your pajamas. She looked surprised. “What? I’m tired, I don’t wanna waste time taking a shower if I don’t have to.”
Wanda smiled, a small laugh falling from her lips. “Nothing, I just… forgot.”
You looked up at her as you took off your necklace, the old pendant making a clink as you set it down on the table.
“Is that,” Wanda started, standing up to look at the necklace closely. “Is this the necklace we stole?”
You looked down, suddenly embarrassed at your most prized possession. “Yes.”
Wanda ran her fingertips over the metal heart, remembering the day she realized she was in love with you. You’d been running around town all day, jumping between shops just because you could. The necklace had caught Wanda’s eyes but was way too expensive for her to afford. You snatched it before the store clerk kicked the two of you out and you ran to the woods. You gave Wanda the necklace, she wore it until the day she “died”.
“I can’t believe you still have it,” Wanda said, looking at you. She tucked a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, raising your chin up to look at her.
“I like feeling you close to me,” You said, leaning closer to the other woman. Wanda smiled, pulling you closer to her. Your hand cupped her face, the warmth in your chest growing as you still took her in. You couldn’t believe you had her again. Then you felt terrible all over again. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” Wanda said. “Can we start over?”
Your thumb ran over her cheekbone, pulling her face closer to place a lingering kiss on her cheek. “Of course.”
Wanda held you close to her, she missed you more than words could explain. You felt it too. Your head rested against her shoulder, you felt at ease. Wanda’s chest shook as she chuckled at your yawn, pulling you away from her.
“Time for bed?” She chuckled. You frowned.
“Don’t make fun,” You whined. “It’s not my fault you haven’t taken a nap in three centuries.”
“It’s not mine either, I can’t.”
“Do you want to?” You wiggled your eyebrows, making the brunette laugh. “Stay with me?”
“As long as you want me to,” She replied. You smiled and motioned for her to get into the bed before you settled next to her, laying your head on her chest. Wanda ran her fingers through your hair, making your eyelids heavier and heavier. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah,” You answered sleepily. “Shoot.”
“Why did you come back to Willowcrest?” She asked, holding her breath waiting for the answer. You started drawing patterns on Wanda’s stomach, where her shirt had ridden up.
“The blood moon,” You answered. You felt Wanda’s body tense, you looked up at her questioningly before turning to click the lights off. “What?”
“What about the blood moon?” Her voice was restricted, careful.
“Why do you sound so worried, Wanda?” You asked, pulling away from her. The moonlight shining through your window provided just enough light to see Wanda’s eyes on you.
“Just answer the question,” Wanda sounded almost scared, your eyebrows knitted together, you found her cold hand under the covers.
“Willowcrest is the only known place with natural blood crystals in its bedrock,” You replied, averting your eyes from Wanda’s intense gaze. “The combination of the crystals and the moon are said to amplify a nature witch’s powers. It’s the only way to communicate with the spiritual realm. I need Dorothea.”
Wanda felt you squeeze her hand, and saw a tear roll down your cheek to the pillow under your head. She pulled you closer, letting you nuzzle into her. “I need you to talk to Melina.”
“Who’s Melina again?” You asked, you remember her mentioning her at the diner.
“She’s the matriarch here,” Wanda answered, her hand rubbing up and down your back. “I think you should talk to her.”
You yawned again, your eyelid getting harder and harder to keep open. You mumbled something about it being tomorrow’s problem before you drifted into a deep sleep, for the first time in a long time being able to fall asleep safely in Wanda’s arms.
Wanda spent the night running her hand through your hair or up and down your back. She let herself drown in your atmosphere, in your scent. She missed you. She never wanted to leave you again. Her enhanced vision allowed her to see the small healed over translucent scars you’d acquired over the years. The normal person wouldn’t be able to notice any markings, but to her eyes she saw every little scratch you’d ever had. She felt a need to protect you.
Sometime during the night Wanda made a promise to herself. For so many years she berated herself for leaving you, for only ever thinking to look for you many years after a normal human would be alive. When she came back to Willowcrest, a landslide had destroyed many city records, she had no idea where you ended up. The church had surprisingly stayed intact, undamaged. Wanda swore she would stay by your side as long as you wanted her.
When the sun peeked over the horizon, Wanda smiled at the way your skin glimmered in the sunlight. It lasted just for a few minutes, she guessed it had something to do with the light being the very first rays of light of the day. It wasn’t long after that that you stirred awake, a smile immediately gracing your features when Wanda ran her hands over your hair.
You and Wanda had a pleasant morning together. She allowed you to wake up slowly as the sun rose higher into the sky. She took you to a cozy little cafe not too far from the hotel, she said they had the best breakfast sandwiches in town. You wondered how she knew. She said you spend too much time reading vampire romance novels, then explained vampires eat normal food too, blood just sustains them better. Throughout the morning Wanda was preoccupied checking her phone, getting text message alerts every time she put the device down.
“Do you have somewhere you need to be?” You asked. “I’m a big girl, I can find something to do.”
“More like somewhere you need to be,” Wanda said, as you sent her a questioning look as you took another bite of your sandwich. “Remember how I told you you should talk to Melina last night? Apparently someone told her you’re a witch and now she wants to meet you.”
You put the sandwich down, your eyebrows scrunched together as you tried to piece things together. “Why does she need to meet me so urgently?”
“I don’t know, malysh,” You fought back a smile at Wanda’s old nickname for you, letting her take your hand from across the table. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
“I’ll go meet her,” You said, before squeezing Wanda’s hand. “As long as you’re there.”
“I’ll be there as long as you want me.”
—
You held onto Wanda’s hand tightly as you walked into the large hall. There were several people lounging around the space, you recognized the blonde on the couch by the bookshelves. Her gaze flew over the rim of the book straight to you as you walked slightly behind Wanda towards the large double doors at the back wall of the room.
Wanda’s hand gave yours a reassuring squeeze, making you look at her face as she looked back at you. Wanda looked so comfortable in the space and around the people who lived here. Seeing her like this made you happy, as it was a sharp contrast to the girl who used to shy away in a crowd all those years ago. You, on the other hand, could feel all the unfamiliar gazes on you. They knew you were different, it made you hold your breath as you finally reached the door.
“Wanda,” She turned to you before she could push the door open. “I’m nervous.”
Wanda smiled, cupping your face and pulling you in for a small, sweet kiss on your cheek. “You have nothing to worry about, love.”
You took a deep breath before sending Wanda a small nod, letting her push the heavy doors open. The doors opened to reveal a large room with high ceilings, the back wall had large windows overlooking the garden behind the hotel and forest beyond the garden. A large desk was placed in front of the windows, with old books and maps littered over the top. The chair faced away from you, where you assumed Melina was sitting. Large bookshelves covered the walls on either side of you, and although the room was meant to be a cozy space, you couldn’t feel colder.
“Melina,” Wanda said, prompting the older woman sitting on the chair to swivel around to face you. Her features were soft and seemed almost gentle for someone who exuded such a powerful energy. A smile appeared on her face, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit more comfortable.
“Wanda, lovely to see you,” Her voice filled the quiet room. You could identify a hint of a Russian accent as she spoke, only intriguing you even more. “This must be your old witch friend.”
“She’s an old friend, who’s a witch,” Wanda corrected, pulling you to stand next to her instead of half behind her.
“I’m Y/N,” You said. “It’s nice to meet you, Melina.”
“Welcome back to Willowcrest, Y/N,” She motioned for you to take a seat in front of her desk. As you stepped forward your eyes landed on the open book on her desk. You recognized the writing. It was witchcraft. “I believe you’ve met my daughter Natasha,” She motioned to the corner of the room where Natasha looked through the bookshelf before turning to face you. She nodded, sending you a small wink before turning back to her work. “My other daughter Yelena was out in the hall, I’m sure Wanda will introduce the two of you in due time.”
You looked up at Wanda to see her looking at her shoes, giving you the impression Yelena was the blonde from the lobby. As your eyes continued to scan the pages, you started getting a gut feeling you weren’t gonna like what Melina wanted to talk to you about.
“What can I do for you?” You asked, eyes moving from the pages to her face.
“Y/N—”
“It’s okay, Wanda,” Melina put her hand up, stopping Wanda. Natasha approached the table, handing Melina a small, older looking book. Melina flipped through the pages before finding what she was looking for and turning the book towards you. “Are you familiar with the Blood Moon Prophecy?”
“Um,” You took the book from her hands, scanning the pages. You didn’t recognize the language, however you recognized some of the emblems and symbols on the page. “I’m not, no.”
“The prophecy says that in the event of a Blood Moon the only of their kind can find a way to the Blood Chalice, which can grant those who drink from it, the power of life.” Your eyebrows scrunched, examining the page closely. Your fingers glowed purple as you ran it over the page, attempting to translate the words on the page to no avail. “The book is protected by an ancient spell, it can’t be tampered with.”
“This chalice sounds dangerous, Melina,” You said, closing the book and placing it in front of you. “Why do you need it?”
“I want to bring the love of my life back to life,” She said, looking forlornly at Natasha, who had looked back at her at her confession. “He was killed several years ago, and I haven’t felt safe enough to leave the hotel ever since.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” You shuffled in your seat, not feeling right about any of this. “But messing with the universe’s balance is complicated and dangerous. Besides, I’m not the only one of my kind, there are plenty of other witches out there.”
“When was the last time you saw one?” She asked, taking you by surprise. You’ve always been alone, and it had been a long time since you saw another witch but that doesn’t mean there aren’t anymore around. “A nature witch?”
You opened your mouth to answer, but truthfully, the last nature witch you met was Dorothea. “It still sounds like it should be left alone.”
“So you don’t want to save your kind?” She asked. You felt like the air froze as you looked at her wide eyed. Wanda placed her hand on your shoulder, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “You can use the chalice to create more nature witches. Your creator is the one who hid the chalice, I believe you’re the one that can find it.”
“Dorothea?” You definitely felt like this Chalice should be left alone now. “I don’t remember her using a Chalice to create me.”
“You don’t think she wiped your memory?” Melina asked, taking a drink of the dark red liquid in the wine glass. Her eyes flickered to Natasha standing behind you before flicking back to you, her dark brown eyes turning completely black at the taste of blood.
“You’re not making the case you think you are, Melina,” Wanda’s head turned towards you in disbelief. You held no loyalty to this person. You were grateful she took Wanda in and gave her a family, but that had nothing to do with you. “If Dorothea wiped the Chalice from my memory, I trust that it was for a good reason.”
“Or a selfish one,” She replied. Your jaw clenched.
“This isn’t very convincing.”
“Y/N,” Natasha said, making you turn to her. Her eyes were still surprisingly green even at such close proximity to blood. You could even smell it. “I know we want the Chalice to help bring back Alexei, but think about it, if we know where it is, we can keep it safe, you can help keep it safe.”
The more she talked, it felt like things started to get more complicated in your mind. Their side started to make sense, things became hazier. All they wanted was to bring a loved one back, a single person. That didn’t seem so bad, then you could either put it back where it was or keep it somewhere safe where you’d know where it is. Maybe Melina did have a point.
Wanda watched your exchange, knowing Natasha had a certain way of convincing people to get her way. She could almost see the wheels turning in your head. She didn’t want you to make a decision you would regret later.
“Just think about it, Y/N,” Wanda broke your gaze with Natasha, making your head turn to her. “You don’t have to make any decisions right now.”
Melina’s jaw clenched as she stared at Wanda, Natasha’s eyes also focused on the brunette. You shook your head, feeling like a fog had been cleared.
“I’ll think about it, Melina,” You turned to Melina and gave her a sympathetic smile. “I’ll let you know when I make a decision.”
Her hard expression quickly morphed into a forced smile towards you, before she nodded. “You do that then, I’ll be awaiting your decision.”
The sound of the chair scraping against the floor filled the suddenly tension filled room. You sent Natasha a quick glance before looking at Wanda behind her. You walked past the two women towards the door, Wanda starting to turn to follow your lead.
“Wanda,” Melina said, making the brunette freeze in her tracks. “Stay a second.”
“I’ll meet you outside,” You told Wanda, desperately needing a breath of fresh air. You almost broke into a sprint the second you walked past the large doors to Melina’s office. You made your way to the back of the hotel, past the garden at the edge of the woods, out of sight from the window in Melina’s office.
You took a deep breath, leaning against a tall pine tree in an attempt to calm your nerves. Now that you’d left the room, you’d noticed just how intense the energy inside felt. The sound of a stick breaking far into the woods startled you, making your head turn to the side. Sometimes you felt like nature whispered the things you needed to know right into your ear. Someone was in there.
As you walked further into the woods, you felt goosebumps emerge all over your body, there was an unknown energy present. Shivers went down your spine the more you walked, starting to see streaks of a deeper purple than you were used to on the ground, glowing in the direction you were heading.
As you approached a clearing, you could make out the shape of someone levitating a few feet from the ground in a sitting position. You watched as she performed what you could only guess to be an energy spell, sucking up the forest’s energy to balance out her own. It was a common practice among witches of your kind, but you could tell she was different. You hid behind a tree while you watched her descend, then stand up, dusting off her cloak from the now dry grass below her.
“You can come say hi, honey, I don’t bite,” She said, her back facing you. You held your breath, how did she know you were there, you were as silent as possible. “I could feel you from a mile away.”
She turned in your direction, the tree in front of you crumbling away into dust. You took a few steps closer into the clearing, the witch smiling brightly at you.
“I’m Agatha,” She said, her eyes starting to glow purple. “It’s nice to finally meet another witch.”
#wanda maximoff x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#wandanat x reader#marvel fanfiction#wlw fanfic#bonk.wandanat#bonk.au#bonk.brtyw#wanda maximoff#natasha romanoff#wandanat
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"Whats your favorite scary movie?"
n.o.t.e.s - 🌊Randy is seriously underrated, like give him some love <3
w.a.r.n - 🌀 penetration, oral (m receiving) p in v, creampies, non-con to dub-con, protected sex.
p.a.i.r.i.n.g - 🌠Randy Meeks x Ghostface!female reader
w.c. - 1.7k
The phone ranged throughout the Meek's residents. Randy was home alone, the perfect time for you to sneak up on him and ruin his geek logic.
It was the perfect time to use your new voice changer to suit your character; it was easier than the boys. It was a more feminine, high-pitched voice, but it was still tangible to hide your identity and gender; it was sexier. It suited your character. Billy and Stu were questioning the change, but you managed to persuade them.
It was the perfect time to at least kill him but in a way that he'll never forget; you were gonna wear black lingerie over the already black cloak, and the mask would be better soak in his dork blood.
You hid a hunting knife to a butcher knife inside your cloak, turning on your voice changer.
As the phone ranged, you saw Randy pick it up, muttering a "Hello?"
"Hello, handsome!" you said seductively through the line as you saw him puzzled by the simple that came out of your mouth.
"Who's this?" Randy asked curiosity evident in his voice.
"Your secret admirer," you said, as you played with the phone cord, "My secret admirer?" he repeated your sentence.
"Your more handsome than you think, baby~."
"Is this a prank, Stu," he dismissed whatever you said as you saw him got angry through the window from his stance.
"I'm not Stu, darling."
"I swear to god Stu, if this a fucking prank, I swear"
"IM NOT FUCKING, STU DUMBASS," you yelled through the phone, "I'm more than that, Randy."
"Whatever, I'm just gonna hang up the phone-"
"Hang up the phone, and I'll slice your throat open just like fucking Casey."
"Wanna play a game?"
"Do I even have a choice?" Randy muttered
"You don't, baby~" it was amusing seeing Randy in fear; it made you feel arousal.
"I'll make the genre about Horror movies, since your such a horror geek"
"Question 1, What is Danny's nickname in the shinning?"
"It's Tony"
"Wow, You really do know your stuff."
"Question 2, In Sleepaway Camp, What was Angela original name?"
"Peter"
"Oh my, I can see why they can you such a geek," you giggled,
"Okay, Last Question Mister, Where am I?"
"Wait what?" you heard the fear evident in his voice, "Where am I Randy~"
"How the fuck did you know my name?" he asked as you saw him looking around him and in the rooms.
"Answer the fucking question, Randy."
"I don't know where you are, psycho. Whatever it is, I'm calling the police"
"They will never make it in time, babe."
That was the last time you said before hanging up the phone. You pulled down the generator, cutting off all the light sources in his house. It was an eerily sight; you saw his face plastered with fear.
The perfect opportunity to kill; everywhere was dark, pitched black.
You grabbed your knife, doubled, wheeling both of your weapons, walking down the hallway; it was obvious that your little Randy was hiding.
You walked into the living room, wheeling your knifes in a circular motion. "Come on, Randy~."
"Where are you?" you spoke through your voice changer; turning your body around, you heard his heavy breathing. Stepping forward near where he was.
"I found you, Randy~," you said, throwing one of your blades at Randy before he dodged it and started running off. You pulled off the thrown knife that landed in the wall, forceful with your leg.
"Come on, Randy. I don't like to play with my toys before killing them~" you cooed out. You followed him upstairs, quickly looking around at the surrounding before destroying some doors.
"Come on, Randy. I don't wanna fuck around, just come out and fight like fucking man," you yelled, your voice getting erratic by the second. You started chopping down the doors, turning around before your lungs were contradicted from oxygen, as you turned your head around to see Randy; he was close to unmasking you before kicking him in the knee, taking him by surprise, and then kicking him in the face.
Successfully getting him on the floor, straddling him with your legs, before swinging your knife at him, before he dodged your violent strikes, kneeing you right in the abdomen, making you fall on the floor, dropping your weapons.
Holding your abdomen, groaning in pain. "Y-you bastard" Before you regain your balance, He pins your arms on the floor.
His heavy breathing on your cheek, you straddled him between your legs, trying to get him off you. "I-i'm going to fucking kill you," you barked at him.
"Not when your in fucking jail," he yelled out.
"Like hell," you manage to knee him, picking up your weapons and straddling him forcefully, "Im going to make sure you'll have a horrible death, putting up your guts like Christmas lights, bitch" holding up your knife over your head.
Before you could, you felt something hard on your nether regions. You were taken back and lowered your weapons. "You're getting hard off of this you sick bastard," you said with a smile in your voice.
He didn't respond to your teasing; you saw a faint blush on your cheeks.
You hooked your weapon back on in your cloak. "If you do a favor for me, I'll keep you alive," you lean in, whispering into his ear, grinding down on him.
He remained silent, the tension between you both growing by the second before he hesitantly shook his head.
"Good Boy~" you cooed at him
You slide back, pulling down his pants, getting a glimpse of his hard cock and wet stain staining his briefs. "You really did get hard off of this" you teased.
His face was red, pure red.
Before pulling down his briefs, his length sprang up, his precum dripping down his shaft. He was medium size, not average though, but overwhelming big.
"I wasn't expecting this from a virgin, big though~," you said, cocking your head to the side getting a glance at his red face and whimpering.
"Close your eye, Randy, don't peek. You don't want me to kill Ran" Your comment seemed to bring him back, as he immediately closed his eyes from the threat before you wrapped a blindfold on his face.
You took off your mask, laying it on the side. Combing back your hair with your fingers. Jerking him down and up, his whimpering coming out of his lips. The pace of your hand was unbearably slow as more whimpers and moaning came out of his lips.
More precum was drooling out from his length before you started playfully licking the tip of his cock. Sucking on the tip, swirling your tongue around it.
Before you took him inside your mouth, swirling around before bobbing up an down on his cock, holding his hips down.
"F-fuck" he moaned out.
You forced yourself down, gagging on his length. Your eye is watering before withdrawing. Your saliva connected to the tip of his length before unbuttoning the top of your cloak, unclasping the top of your bra.
Putting your boobs between his length, holding both sides of your tits, lapping at his length, sucking down on him, before jerking him off with your tits. You glanced up from him, and through your eyelashes, you saw him gripping the carpet, the feeling between your legs pulsing.
His legs were trembling, and you felt his cock twitching inside your mouth before you felt hot, salty liquid flowing into your mouth, before swallowing down his cum.
As Randy groaned out from his orgasm. You still felt his length still hard after his orgasm. "God, your still hard?" you smiled.
You took off your panties, positioning yourself over him as you sink onto his length. As his cock split you open, Randy groaned from tightening cunt.
You placed your hand on his shoulders, riding down on him, as you rocked your hips on his. You bit down on your lips, hiding your moans from being audible. Leaning down on holding his shoulders, biting on his neck, your bites blossoming into fresh love bites.
"D-damn," he groaned.
"You feel better when you are inside of me," you purred; you felt his hand around your hips, and your hips and his collided as he plunged his dick inside you.
As his pace turned erratically, feeling his balls slapping onto your ass as he thrust in, as you broke out from biting your lips as your moan ranged out. Feeling twitching inside you, you felt your orgasm near, his hands gripping onto your hips, forcefully thrusting inside you.
You felt warm liquid pouring into you as your sense of relief washed over you, seeing white.
His groaning and your moaning came in sync, as you took out his limp length from you, his cum escaping from your cunt. "God, you did well" you cooed, as you put on your panties back on.
Buttoning on your cloak, wearing back your mask, Crouching down to his level, "I guess you broke a rule; you had sex~" you smiled as you took off his blindfold from him; his face was still fully red; you got up and broke the window jumping out of the house, giving him a wave.
Randy's face was still red, as he just thought what he just did.
Walking down the school hallway wearing your backpack, going to the area where your friend's group was, near the lockers. "Wassup guys," you said gleefully.
You saw Billy glaring at you, maybe because you went off the plan; Stu was busy flirting with Tatum. You glance to the side, seeing Randy plastered with a smile, "Whatcha smile for Ran?" you ask, cocking your head.
"Did you finally get a girlfriend~" you teased, pointing at him.
"Kind of" He rubbed the back of his neck; after he said, everyone got silent just staring at him. "Randy got a girlfriend; how much did you pay her" Stu teased.
"Nothing, dipshit," Randy snapped, getting a laugh from Stu. "I'm surprised you got someone, Randy," Tatum said with a surprised face.
"Surprised as to what he does in his free time," Billy muttered, earning him a nudge from his girlfriend, Sidney.
There was tension in the air as you broke the ice, "Well, it's good that Randy is finally being a man," you said as you ruffled his hair. You glance to see him with a red hue on his face. I guess he still remembers that night.
#randy meeks#randy meeks x reader#randy meeks x y/n#scream#scream 1996#stu macher#billy loomis#sidney prescott#tatum riley#randy meek imagines#randy meeks x fem!reader#casey becker#scream 1#scream movie#scream franchise#randy meeks x you
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“The little owl family” (Part 1)
(RZ!Michael Myers x GNReader)
Summary: your and your little sister’s life had an 180° turn when your parents got into a severe car crash, dying on the spot. You, being already past 18 had to figure out how to keep things afloat and give yourself, specially your sister, a good future.
And you did! It was hard but you did it and became the absolute hero in the little girl’s eyes. People would often involuntary smile at the dynamic of your two, so wholesome and supportive, the perfect family bond.
Bond that a certain Boogeyman noticed as well…
Warnings: none, maybe mentions of murder(?).
Word Count: 2.7k
Additional info: Gender Neutral reader. (S/N) = sister’s name.
Also apologies for any mistakes, English is not my first language ;u;
Well, with all that said, enjoy the fic! ^^
(Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6)
—“(Y/N)! (Y/N) look!”—
The voice of a little girl resonated behind the mentioned person, who was finishing putting on their shoes.
—“Mmh? What is it songbird?”— you curiously say as you walk towards your sister.
The little 6 y/o was enthusiastically pointing at the window.
—“Look! The owl family! They actually made a nest in the backyard!”— she exclaims excitedly, giving little jumps in her place as she speaks and points.
The older sibling looks through the window, focusing on the large tree they had in the backyard. And it’s true! Inside of a tree hollow was a barely noticiable owl head curiously peaking out, staring at the duo with it’s dark, almost pitch black, eyes.
—“It’s not just an owl, it’s a barn owl!”— you comment, glancing at your sister. —“Not sure if they’re going to find much food around here though… Maybe we could buy some meat later?”—
—“Oh, yes! We need to help the birdies!”—
—“Aight’ I’ll write it down in our 'to do' list. But now we gotta go or you’ll be late for school.”— you gently remind her.
—“Oww, but will I see the birdies later?”— she looks at you with a little frown.
—“Of corse! Maybe we could even stay up at night a bit longer since they are nocturnal animals.”—
—“Past bedtime?!”— she gasps a bit.
—“Yup, past bedtime.”— you nod with a chuckle. —“But only this time for tonight, and maybe ones in Halloween… And Christmas… And new year…”—
(S/N) lets out a childish laugh as she swings her arms around her sibling’s waist.
—“You are the best (Y/N)!”—
The mentioned person laughs a bit and crouches down to hug their sister properly.
—“I learned from the greatest. Now come on or your teacher is going to reprimand both of us.”—
The little girl pouts a bit but does as told, clearly not wanting to get scolded again by the old witch Rosemary.
. . .
After a couple of hours, (Y/N) had picked up their sibling from their school and were currently on their ride to the store, when suddenly…
—“(Y/N), who is ‘Michael Myers’?”— (S/N) innocently asks.
They almost choke whit their own saliva when they heard that name leaving their sister’s mouth, their body going a bit stiff.
—“Uh…”— you think about what to reply. —“Where did you hear that name?…”—
—“A classmate told me! She said the friend of their older brother was killed by Michael Myers!”— she replies, saying the last part in a more dramatic tone.
—“Uhuh…”— you hum thoughtfully.
—“So… Who is he?”—
—“Well…”— you pause for a moment. —“He was ones a boy that lived in Haddonfield, around 16 years ago, and then at Halloween he… He killed some people; his stepfather, his own sister and her boyfriend.”—
(S/N)’s eyes wide and her mouth slightly gapes.
—“Own sister?! How dared he?!”—
—“Yeah, but can’t blame him. His sister wasn’t a good person, in fact no one was really kind to him except his mother.”—
—“Oh…”— she pauses, trying to process the fact that not all siblings are as amazing as the one she has.
—“So yeah, that’s the story of Michael Myers, and his old house is now a source of spooky stories, claimed to be the ‘house of the Boogeyman’.”—
(Y/N) replied honestly, they rarely kept secrets from their sister and would often do their best to explain certain things, she will learn them anyways at some point so they rather to be the ones who explain it.
The little girl nods a bit, her gaze thoughtful.
—“Is his house like… Haunted?”—
—“Mmm… Nah, it’s just an old abandoned house. Sure, some teens may come in for kicks and giggles but that’s it”—
(S/N) nods again and then silently looks through the car window. Through the rear mirror (Y/N) could see the girl's expression, it was clear that she still has things to ask and wonder but chooses not to.
Eventually though, whatever was bugging the girl's mind becomes too much and she's forced to ask...
—"Can we go and see the house?..."—
(Y/N)'s grip on the steering wheel tightened, their body stiff again.
—"...Why?"— you simply ask.
The girl shrinks in her sit a bit, her expression a bit sheepish.
—"I... W-Well... While exiting the shcool I heard Terry say that his dad is going to demolish the Myers house in a few days, I got curious and... I just really want to see a real haunted house at least ones!"— she exclaims at the last part.
—"I just said it's not-"—
—"It looks haunted! Please! Pretty please (Y/N)!"— she begs. —"I promise I will look quick! Just a little peak and I won't ask you anything ever again!"—
—"Didn't you say the same yesterday when you wanted pizza for dinner?"— you ask in a teasing tone, subtly trying to change topic.
—"But now I'm super-duper serious! Please."—
The older sibling remains quiet, eyes gluet to the road yet their mind going completely coconuts. Part of them wanted their sister to know the truth, to know that just last year all grown up Michael Myers had escaped from the asylum he's been locked for so long, to know the people he killed, to know he kidnapped and nearly murdered his own young sister, to know that... His body is still to be found, despite originally being claimed as dead.
On the other hand, a more permisive part of them saw nothing wrong in making a quick visit. The old house is several blocks away from their neighborhood and police cars still patrolling the streets quite regulary, specially now durning October.
NO, their gut screams as they slouch on their sit a bit. This is probably a terrible idea! Did they forget all the horror movies and the ridiculously avoidable threats the main characters go through? Do they really want to get themselves in such mess?
But again, it's just a house... Some stupid old building that is barely standing.
And even though (Y/N) doesn't want to admit it... They too are kinda curious to see how the house looks after the last year events.
It's just a little peak.
Just a tiny glance that will last no longer that a minute or two.
Plus, they're god damn aware that if they don't accept (S/N) is going to give them a one hell of a time, and their nerves deserve some mercy.
With a sigh, (Y/N) corrects their position.
—"Just a small glance, okay?"—
At that, (S/N)'s face lights like a firework, her smile wide and bright.
—"Yes! Yes thank you so much (Y/N)! I promise I'll be super good from now on!"—
They simply hum with a smile, this is going to be a quick visit, just a minute and they'll be over it, going to the store to buy some groceries and maybe some new Halloween decorations, the holiday was still three weeks away but in Haddonfield, even after the Boogeyman's horrors, Halloween is still welcomed.
. . .
The car pulls and stops, at the opposite street from the old house.
Just like they imagined, neither time or the people of this town had mercy on the structure. The poor building looked even more vandalized and broken than before, still miraculously standing.
(Y/N) frowned, they’ve expected to feel the classic thrill, the unexplainable sense of danger that our primal instincts send to alert about any sketchy situation, yet… They’re feeling non of it, instead of irrational fear and dread they feel sadness, a melancholy so deep it consumes all other emotions, leaving a huge void in their chest.
The little girl stares at the house, frowning too, as if feeling the same deep sadness.
(Y/N) eventually stops the engine, making everything go silent.
It’s uncertain how long the duo was sitting like this, staring at the building and barely breathing. Eventually, a tiny voice breaks it.
—“Can we…”— she hesitates.
—“Want to look closer?”— you ask, unimpressed.
—“Y-Yeah…”— she shyly admits.
(Y/N) hesitates, not wanting to abandon the safety of the car. But again, what threats are out there?
With a sigh and a small nod, they unbuckle their belt as a silent 'okay'.
When out of the vehicle, the duo got a spine chill almost at the same time. The house looked even bigger, the old structure menacingly hovering over them, reminding how little they are.
But even then, even despite the house's menacing look...
The atmosphere remained melancholic, lonely.
—"The house looks so sad..."— your sister comments with a frown.
—"Indeed it does songbird... Indeed it does..."— you reply, having a frown as well.
—"Do you think the ghost of Michael Myers is looking at us?"— she asks innocently.
(Y/N) gives their sister a look.
—"(S/N), I said he was locked up, not that he died- "— you try to correct her.
—"He may have super powers! What if he can turn secretly into a ghost?!"— she exclaims, though more that scared she sounded excited about such possibility.
(Y/N) simply chucles at the girl's innocence and how quickly she could get out of track with her theories and imagination.
—"Yeah, maybe you're right. It's a cool super power though."— you comment, a bit more casually. —"But I think it's time for us to go sweetheart, remember we still have groceries to buy, as well some stuff for Halloween."—
(S/N) lets out a little gasp.
—"Oh my god you're right! Let's go let's go!- "—she grabs your hand ready to leave but abruptly stops. —"Wait!..."—
She suddenly starts to rummage in her school backpack, gaining a confused yet curious look from (Y/N). With a little 'aha!' she pulls out a drawing.
—"Okaaaay...? What are you planning young lady?"— you arch a brow.
—"It's a gift, I want to gift it to the house!"— she exclaims with a big smile.
—"...What?"— you look at her with confusion. —"You want to gift one of your drawings to an old house?"— your eyes narrow a bit when she nods.
—"Yeah! I mean... I don't like how sad the house looks, so gloomy and... Lonely. You always smile when I gift you a drawing, so I want to try it here!"—
(Y/N) remains silent, though a bit of warmth tickled in their chest at how innocent and sweet (S/N) is acting. They look towards the house, the path to the front door completely overgrown, the dry grass being as unwelcoming as possible, threatning to stick and pinch whoever is dumb enough to enter.
—"I will be fast! Just slide it through the mail slot and then we run back into the car!"—
Their eyes narrow even more.
—"You want to slide it inside?!"—
—"Yes! So the ghost can see and see what a cool artist I am, I even made it spooky!"—
(Y/N) finally takes a moment to glance at the drawing; it was an orange dinosaur, a spinosaurus to be more specific, that had an agry expression. What's the spooky part? The dinosaur is wearing a black witch hat with a red magic wand and a scarf. The drawing also had some things written, all of them spelled wrong of course, insead of saying 'Dinosaur! Happy Halloween!' it said 'Dienosore! Happee Hallowin!'.
(Y/N) couldn't help but to let out a small chuckle at the spelling, they definetely must start teaching their sister some grammar.
—"Alright... But we go together, okay? You slide that in there real quick and we're out."— you say, a bit more strictly.
—"Okay!... Well, maybe also this."— she takes out a little chocolate bar out of her pocket.
—"You want to also leave a treat for the ghost?"— you arch your brow again.
(S/N) simply giggles.
—"No silly, it's for the Boogeyman! So he eats this instead of my ankles."—
—"Didn't we agree that a ghost lives- "—
—"The Boogeyman is the ghost's dog!"—
(Y/N) let out a tired sigh as they roll their eyes, whatever lore (S/N) is having in her mind is getting progressively worse.
—"Okay okay, as you say. Let's hurry up, we don't want the store to get flooded and have all the best decorations sold."—
The little girl nods enthusiastically and takes their hand before they start walking.
(Y/N) is careful with their steps, making sure to not step on any thorn or stick that could potentially hurt their sister, (S/N) meanwhile was loyally following her sibling's footsteps, trusting them completely.
Ones they made their way to the front door, the odd sense of alarm starts to finally creep through (Y/N)'s back, like a bunch of bugs running under their skin in sheer panic, trying to escape and hide from whatever threat is looming in the air.
The older sibling takes a more protective pose, griping their sister's shoulder firmply and eyeing at every possible direction, looking for the sourse of that alarming feeling (S/N) was totally oblivious of.
The little girl, with a happy-go-lucky attitude slides the drawing and the candy through the mail slot like she said, and ones done turns toward (Y/N).
—"Done!"—
As soon as (S/N) said that, her small frame is yanked towards the fence, away from the sketchy building.
—"Good... Now let's go."— you say, your tone a bit more urgent.
(S/N) glances at them with a little frown, noticing the change in their attitude.
—"Are you scared, (Y/N)?"— she innocently asks.
The question made them stop in their tracks, they pause for a moment but eventually sigh.
—"A bit, maybe..."— you reply honestly.
The girl frowns more, but then her expression brightens as she wraps her arms around her sibling's waist.
—"Don't worry (Y/N)! If the Boogeyman dares to come for you I'm going to protect you!"—
Such statemant made them release a scoff.
—"You? A little garden gnome is going to safe the day?"— you tease.
—"Yes! If a monster tries to do something to you then I'll uh... I'll step on their big toe and slap their elbows! Yeah!"— she exclaims, determination shining in her eyes.
Though the childrish threat didn't soothe (Y/N)'s mind, it did lightened their mood a bit.
—"Step on toes, huh? Watch out sis, that's some very serious threats right there."—
—"I know! Bet I'll make the monster cry."— she grins mischievously.
—"You sure? You won't back away at the last second? Just like you did this summer when you tried to catch a gekko in our backyard."— you chuckle at her angry face.
—"The lizard was scary! I didn't know it could climb on walls!"— she childishly whines as she gives you a little punch in the arm. —"And stop laughing! It wasn't funny!"—
—"Didn't you hysterically laugh when you spooked me with that hideous horse mask on?"—
—"Thas was fuuny! The gekko running up walls wasn't!"—
The both siblings started to go back and forth with their little argument of what was or not funny, the argument at some point turned into a small playful fight that was anything but serious. At some point the duo lean against the car, loudly cackling and hugging each other for additional support.
Their roudy interaction didn't go unnoticed, appart from some disapproving glares from the local neighbors, a pair of dark eyes oberved them as well.
The icy blue eyes of the monster hiding in the darkest part of the house watched the duo since their arrival. At first, he was indifferent, just a pair of dummies coming to retell the same story over and over... But eventually, his opinion changed, their dynamic and behavoir was something unique to him.
The way that little girl wasn't afraid of the 'Boogeyman' living inside and how calm her sibling was towards her request to come closer was something he never seen before. Sure some teens would drag their young brothers and sisters towards his old house to give them a scare, terrify them with stories and how he is going to supposedly come and take them, but these two...
Something awakened inside of him, not just curiousity but also something bittersweet... If things had turned the way he wanted he may had the same relationship with boo... The same strong bond he always craved since childhood.
When the car eventually left the neighborhood, that odd awakened feeling vanished as well, making his chest feel empty and cold again...
He has no idea why or what is going on with him. Why some strangers affected him in a such personal level. All he knows is that now the emptiness is being slowly replaced with an unhinged desire...
Desire to find these two and observe them again...
#nothomegal fic#michael myers#rz michael myers#michael myers x reader#slasher x reader#gn reader#rz michael myers x reader#halloween
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How-To: Budget Studio Mk.III
We've all been there: 50M gil burning white hot in your pocket when a set of Fallen Angel Wings pop in the market board, its siren's call luring you. Now you're utterly fashionable, but regrettably with barely half a mil Gil to your name. What to do?
Well, do not give to despair, my glamorous friend! You can actually build a perfect black background studio to show off your feathery acquisition.
You'll need:
1 x FC Room, or an Apartment
3 x White Screens
1-2 x platforms of your choice
4-5 Soot Black dyes
1 - Setup
Place your White Screens in parallel, in order to completely cover a wall. (This will give you some leeway with angles and point light placement.)
Make sure you leave a considerable gap, of maybe half the length of the base of a White Screen. This is important, as you'll see very soon.
Place the objects you'll use as platforms in front and center of the white panel line, making sure it overlaps with the middle panel. This is where you'll stand: In the example below I floated two Combed Wool Rugs, but any contiguous platform will do (think tables, half-partitions, etc.)
Dye all the objects with Soot Black. No need for the expensive stuff.
Now let's reduce the ambient light, setting it to zero; we'll use only GPose lighting for shots.
2 - What's the catch?
Well, you see - most partitions, like the Blank Riviera partition, have a collision box set around them. If a camera touches it, its path is altered so it doesn't go behind the partition.
White Screens, however, do NOT have a collision box - so you can move your camera behind the partitions, and place your light sources there.
Here's how it looks in gpose - notice how the camera just goes through the partition:
Amazing, right? So the trick is to place light sources behind the panels, in the gap between the back of the panels and the wall; this way, the light won't hit the front surfaces.
The final result is a shot with a perfect pitch-black background, where rim lights can be applied with very intense results:
You can also place Type-1 light points in front, so they offer a very gentle illumination while not hitting the background panels:
Another possible setup: move the character away from the background, and place the light sources around it.
That'll result in shots like this one:
You can also place a point light between the character and the background, to create a halo effect:
The opportunities for dramatic lighting are endless.
Go on, give it a try!
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Top 10 Cozy BLs!
Our Dating Sim made me realize we have a new sub genre of BLs happening right now: the cozy BL.
I decided to invent/identify/name this new BL category because... I can. I crowd sourced (here in the hellhole) opinions of how to define it and what should go on it. The collective brainstormed and elected the following qualifications:
low angst
low stakes
high domesticity
a central relationship that is more cute than anything else
extra points for found family
AKA BLs that make you feel happy and comfortable.
These BLs leave you feeling warm and safe, like a hot water bottle. I will list them in order of my personal preference when in the mood for “cozy.”
1. Our Dating Sim
(Korea, Viki)
Did I create this list for this show? Yes I did. It defines this category. It is a very low stakes, high domesticity, extremely warm and gentle second chance at love office romance.
This is a fuzzy blanket of a story that perfectly suited KBL’s short-length tendencies. The pacing is... muuuuuah... chef’s kiss.
2. Seven Days
(Japan, grey in 2 parts Seven Days: Monday - Thursday | Seven Days - Friday - Sunday)
Popular first year Seiryo has a policy of going out with any girl who asks… for one week. On a lark, third year Yuzuru tests to see if that policy also applies to boys. Seiryo agrees that it does. Along the way they accidentally fall in love. Possibly my favorite BL of all time. It’s very gentle with us and its characters while still having that Japanese emo edge to it.
A master class in quite yet riveting cinema.
What, you doubted me? OF COURSE it’s on the list
3. My School President
(Thailand, YouTube)
GMMTV gave us a classic high school set Thai BL with tropes like messy boys singing their feelings that made this one Love Sick for the modern age with all the gentle sweetness and pining ache, but none of the dated damaging tropes or issues. Yes, we’ve seen it all before, but I still ADORED this, and that’s partly what makes it so comforting. Who let my BL be this wholesome and funny?
4. See You After Quarantine?
(Taiwan, Viki)
Be you never expected lockdown to be comforting? This under appreciated gem is Taiwan’s answer to Gameboys and is just as charming and adorable yet still as quintessentially Taiwanese as one might hope. It features a Japanese love interest and the cutest most confused disaster gay. Slow burn because the two have almost no actual screen time together and yet manage some truly amazing chemistry plus sweetly caring and earnest. Honestly how does Taiwan do it?
5. Ingredients
(Thailand, YouTube)
At the time (during lockdown) many of us referred to this as our “emotional support grocery store advertisement.” If all you want is two soft boys being domestic, cooking together, cuddling on the couch, cat sitting, and babysitting - just put this on and be comfy.
6. What Did You Eat Yesterday?
(Japan, grey)
Basically the grown up version of Ingredients. Emotionally repressed, grumpy, salary man shows his hair dresser husband his love by cooking amazing meals. That’s it, that’s the whole show. There some queer fam drama, and blood-fam coming out drama, but mostly is husbands cooking and eating together and it’s great. Is it BL? Not really. Do we care? Not really.
7. The New Employee
(Korea, Viki)
This one is queer comfort, explicitly. If you aren’t queer you might not find it as warm and engaging. A near pitch perfect office BL with conflict derived from that setting. Also featuring found family and a lesbian bestie. Sweet & innocent (and out) Seung Hyun scores the office internship of his dreams. On his first day at work he gets into it with his cool reserved (and also v gay) boss.
As you do.
But things get romantic pretty darn quickly.
As you gay.
8. En of Love: Tossera & Future the series
(Thailand, YouTube)
Tossera = Younger boy wants to court older boy and does and… that’s it. No really that’s the WHOLE STORY. There is actually no angst, drama, or, indeed plot. But are they the softest bois ever to BL as a main couple? Yes, yes they are.
Future is... exactly the same thing.
Are we mad about it?
Nope.
9. Oxygen
(Thailand, YouTube)
Softest seme in the universe sings his affection to the older boy at the cafe. Let the slow burn courting commence. Oxygen uses every BL trope in the playbook for one of the gentlest lowest angst BLs ever made. It’s a hyung romance (younger boy courts older boy) but very very earnest about it. Am I biased? Sure. This is probably one of my biggest comfort watches.
10. Our Dining Table
(Japan, Gaga)
Lonely salaryman and talented cook gets accidentally adopted by a college kid and his little brother. It’s a quiet cozy little parable of found family alleviating loneliness. Possibly too slow for some but definitely high up there for me with the best of what Japan can do (like Restart After Come Back Home), it’s only flaw (if I dare say such a thing) is that it is not really “romantic.” Lovely & sweet but the romance beats are being used to build a family relationship, not just couple intimacy, it’s OK with me, but not totally BL.
For me one of the hallmarks of cozy BL is that as a chronic rewatcher I find myself starting to rewatch these ones even as they are still airing. Oxygen was an icon of this (also my first watch-along and the reason I realized I really had a passion for BL)
Shorts
Summerdaze - Singapore & Korea, YouTube
The 8.2 Second Rule - Japan, YouTube
A First Love Story - Korea, YouTube
Some More - Korea, Gaga
Quite a few other Strongberry offerings.
More like this?
Top 10 Most Romantic BLs for Valentine’s Day
Top 20 Softest Couples in BL
Top 10 Cutest BLs
Fluffy Sweet Soft Thai BL
10 BLs Best Enjoyed with Hot Tea & a Roaring Fire
MOAR RECS?
From the blog comments. If I agree I gave it a description.
Boys Lockdown (YouTube) - actually on this list because it go so many votes by everyone else, I haven’t watched it.
My Ride (GaGa) - Thai BL grew up with this pulp - a truly lovely and special little show featuring the extremely rare pairing of sunshine/sunshine AKA a cinnamon roll couple. Mature explorations of relationships using one of the softest, sweetest and most innocent friends to lovers vehicles. Kindly, overworked doctor meets broken-hearted motorcycle taxi driver in an “other side of the tracks” slow burn romance. The support cast is excellent, making for great friendship groups and family dynamics. With honest queer rep that adds to, but doesn’t impede the story, and genuine conversation about the nature of class, wealth, and classism, not to mention communication, honesty, and respect for boundaries, you can’t go wrong with this show. In other news, I am a sucker for a single dimple. Full review.
Takara-kun to Amagi-kun (Viki & Gaga) - yes, high school angst but so sweet about it. Review here.
2 Moons 3 Ambassador (grey) - I love this odd little pulp, it’s oddly satisfying for all it’s awkward cheese-fest. Maybe that is why I like it. Review here.
21 Days Theory (YouTube)
About Youth (Gaga) - A truly lovely little coming of age high school BL with a classic YA low drama but high angst and an earnest depth. Full review here.
Ai no Kotodama (Gaga)
Be Loved In House: I Do (Viki)
Cherry Blossoms After Winter (Viki warning dub con) - it’s here because a lot of people (like me) love it, but there are objections. Review here.
Cherry Magic (Japan, indie subbed) AKA Doutei dato Mahoutsukai ni narerurashii - the sweetest, fluffiest, most charming bit of adorable ever, full of found family and pastry and serious slapstick, the characters are utter spazzes, but so cute about it. Still that aspect makes me a little tense so I don’t find it as cozy as others do.
Craving You (Viki)
Destiny Seeker (grey) - see 2 Moons Ambassador
DNA Says Love You (Gaga) - particularly the last few episodes.
La Cuisine (GaGa) - sweet and kind of pure show, and like Thai desserts perhaps requires too much patience for a layperson. Because of the pacing and the focus on the bad girl character, I did dock it. But if you like stuff in the Oxygen vein, then this show is for you, and far better than most Thai BL pulps. That said, I suspect that I enjoyed it more than many would. Full review.
Meet Me Outside (Gaga)
Meow Ears Up (Gaga)
Mr. Heart (Viki)
Mr. Unlucky has no Choice but to Kiss (Viki)
Nitiman (Thailand YouTube) - This Thai BL pulp had sympathetic characters, a solid tsundere uke redemption arc, and a fantastic pining seme who yearned without bullying, grooming, or gaslighting. Plus when they were together, they were ridiculously soft. But it also had a realistic portrayal of university life, bisexual awakening, and friendship groups. Ending is okay but a victim of lockdown.
Old Fashion Cupcake (Viki)
Ocean Likes Me (Viki)
Roommates of 304 (Viki)
Wish You (Korea - Netflix or Viki, you want the movie version) AKA Wish You: Your Melody in My Heart - low stakes high pining romance about a pianist who falls in love with a busker who is on his way to being the next big idol.
There was quite a lively discussion coming up with this list, since everyone defines cozy differently but I am not alone in my top 10 choices, these mostly got the most votes.
(source)
#cozy bl#comforting bl#sweet bl#kind bl#soft bl#bl that won't hurt you#low stakes bl#high domesticity bl#Strongberry#Our Dining Table#Japanese bl#JBL#live action yaoi#Oxygen the series#Future the series#Thai BL#en of Love: Tossera#The New Employee#korean bl#What Did You Eat Yesterday?#Ingredients the series#JeffGame#Taiwanese bl#rakutan viki#See You After Quarantine?#GMMTV#My School President#Seven Days - Friday - Sunday#Seven Days: Monday - Thursday#Our Dating Sim
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So, a night of drinking and my secret obsession with Bunny Izuku combined, to birth what will eventually be the first chapter of a much longer fic. For now, enjoy this snippet :)
Thanks for the encouragement @myprettydarlings 💗
Update: The completed first chapter is now out on Ao3 :)
Bunnies and Vices
You weren’t the best at self-regulation. When you did something, you either did the bare minimum or went all out, with no in-between. A lazy overachiever if you will. Unfortunately, this little quirk applied to your vices, too. You either paid them no mind or indulged in them until you were a wreck.
Most of your vices were safe. Fanfiction, snacking, sleeping in, etc., allowing you to safely humor them. The one harmful vice, however, was your love for parties and alcohol. You were a sucker for a good time, and if free liquor was provided, you were there. The strong, fruity drinks were especially mouthwatering, as they had the winning combo of getting you fucked-up fast while tasting like heaven.
In the heat of the moment, guzzling alcohol with your friends was a ball. You danced like no one was watching, chatted with anyone who’d give you the time of day, and flirted with fine strangers with zero reservations. The stresses of day-to-day life and your self-image issues melted away, being too caught up in the moment to give a damn about them.
However, once the moment passed, all the alcohol you chugged seemed like a poor decision. Nausea and headaches began to set in, the alcoholic munchies you got leaving you bloated. The next morning, you’d be left with a raging hangover and intense regret over every little embarrassing moment you laughed at when liquor was flowing through your veins.
At 3 in the morning, your most dangerous vice had you staggering home, because your dumbass didn’t want to burden your friends when they offered to walk with you. You lived in the opposite direction, after all, and they were in no state to wander around town in the middle of the night. Unfortunately, you didn’t take your advice.
A yelp left you when a loud, high-pitched shriek sounded in the alley ahead of you. Your body tensed as the cries grew in urgency, your steps halting. You looked around and found the streets deserted, the lack of another soul making your heart rate pick up.
Going through the alley was necessary if you wanted to get home soon, but you didn’t know what horrors awaited you. You’d heard stories before of crooks setting up traps for potential victims. You were a drunk woman by her lonesome, making you a perfect target. Your skintight attire didn’t help matters.
You could go the alternative route, but that would add twenty minutes to your walk, and you wanted to get home as soon as possible.
Stealing your nerves, you bent down and removed your high heels. They’d be a hindrance if you had to run, and the platforms would serve as a decent weapon. Taking a shaky step forward, you entered the alleyway, praying to whatever deity up above to spare you. You tried your best to stay quiet, not wanting to catch the attention of whatever was in the alley. But a bundle of fur derailed that plan.
Two things quickly caught your attention. One, the source of that godawful screech was an injured rabbit. And more concerningly, it was green.
You blinked. Then blinked again, and when the creature remained green, you rubbed your eyes. A laugh bubbled out of you, your sense of survival being replaced by bewilderment. Just how much had you drunk?
“Hey, hey,” you cooed as the poor thing tried to inch backward, another cry leaving it.
Blood was oozing from its back paw, and a broken glass bottle laying feet away quickly revealed what’d caused the injury. Yet, it didn’t explain the uneven patches of fur, or the scars marring the exposed skin that the fur didn’t cover up. Your heart sank. While its coloring may be the result of too many margaritas, the scarring was a clear sign of mistreatment.
You slowly approached, dropping your heels as you tried to make yourself appear smaller. You’d probably have to walk home barefoot but considering those cheap demons had made your feet hurt all night, it was a small price to pay. A trip to your local thrift store would see them replaced.
“It’s okay,” you whispered when it let out a hiss. Briefly, you wondered if it had rabies. If it did, a rabies shot would take care of that, and you’d learn a valuable lesson. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Besides, if it did infect you with some disease, you’d have a fun story to tell, and one more of many examples of poor decisions your brain made when drunk. Because while sober you might’ve exercised caution, drunk you was removing your jacket and wrapping it around the rabbit’s body. It resisted, at first. But once you began to scratch behind its ears, it calmed down.
Your finger grazed across another scar, and you frowned. “You poor baby.”
Your grandmother would be having fits if she saw the scene before her. Luckily for you, she was dead, so you didn’t have to explain anything to her. She might be rolling over in her grave, though, as she looked up at you. The old woman was an unwavering animal hater, which made sense because she was a miserable hog. Hogs were aggressive creatures, after all, who didn’t like others infringing on their territory.
Gently, you wrapped the sleeve of your jacket around the injured foot to staunch the bleeding. Somehow, you simultaneously managed to pull your phone out of your stupidly small purse. You adored Y2K styles, but you wished that the bags were bigger.
You began to walk back to your place with your head buried in your phone, keeping a tight grip on the rabbit who’d begun to relax in your hold. A quick search showed that all 24-hour vets were ridiculously far away, but another showed that you had most of the material needed to take care of the animal’s injuries. Tucking your phone away, you decided to handle it yourself and make a trip to the vet first thing tomorrow. Stupid as it may be to take a random animal home with you after a night of drinking, you couldn’t leave a poor creature to suffer. Besides, the vet would most likely have the resources to rehome it.
A/N: I love my (living) grandmother very much, and the words written here do not reflect my views on her.
#midoriya izuku#izuku mydoria#izuku x reader#bunny izuku#fem reader#x fem reader#snippet#more will come#bunny deku#bunnies#rabbit#my hero fanfic#my hero academia#my hero acedamia#my hero x reader#mha izuku#izuku midoria x reader#izuku x y/n#mha deku#sfw#sfw fic
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