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bunnylovesani · 4 months

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The Bratty Belle

Chapter 1

Summary: You’ve just moved to the city and want to get to know your new neighbours. One very snarky and very handsome one in particular presents you with a challenge.

WC: 2k

After spending all day unpacking, you finally sat down to observe your new surroundings: you’d kept most of your old furniture, like the vanity table perched in the corner along with your beloved princess bed- complete with an intricately carved wooden headboard. The room was pleasantly familiar beside the new addition of white chiffon curtains that hung around your bed, shrouding you in a comforting cocoon. You let out a dreamy sigh, fiddling with the numerous pillows and plushies littered all over your plush bedding. You might be old enough to move to the big city and have your own condo, but you’ll still cuddle your tatty old teddy to sleep.

Peering out the window, you observe the neighbouring houses strewn along the street opposite, a green meadow separating the complexes. Most of them had a door and mailbox per floor, signifying that a different person resided on each of the levels. The same could not be said, however, for the last house at the very end of the street, which stood detached and boasted a single entryway. It was the only house you could see into being that it was directly opposite yours- unlike the other condos, which joined together in rows a little further up the road. You’d only moved in 2 days ago but noticed that the blinds were shut and the lights always remained off. Maybe no one lived there?

As a reward for your gruelling work unpacking, you took some candy along with your sketchpad and headed out to the field outside your new home. Deciding against another layer over your pink mini dress, you grabbed a picnic blanket and staked out the perfect spot - cosy and tucked away so that the neighbours down the road wouldn’t notice you. Your feet kicked the air playfully as you doodled the flowers in your line of sight, humming contentedly with a cherry-flavoured lollipop hanging from your lips. You were so engrossed in your sketch that you almost didn’t notice the shadow looming over you, blocking the warm sunlight.

“Who are you?” A tall man with dark features frowned at you and you looked up, mirroring his frown.

“I don’t talk to strangers.” You huffed, returning your attention to your notebook. That wasn’t strictly true- you were bubbly and befriended anyone who would have you but this man in particular intimidated you.

“What are you, ten?” He scoffed and raised his thick eyebrows, forehead wrinkles deepening.

Much to your annoyance, you could sense that he wasn’t leaving before he got a satisfactory response - so you put your pencil down and looked up at him again. His cerulean blue eyes shone so brightly they practically twinkled and a sharp spark flew through your heart at the sight. Rugged, almost-black hair choppily framed his chiselled face, which had smudges of dirt and sweat flecking his tanned skin. A manual labourer, perhaps?

“I’m Bunny. Jus’ moved in over there.” You turn around and point at the apartment behind you. “And you are?”

“Happy to see you.” His deep, raspy voice replied teasingly.

“I meant your name.” You corrected him snappily.

“My real one or a fake one like you just gave me?” You pout your lips; you didn’t like his sharp tongue.

“I’m James. James Kelly.” He said after a while of staring at your scrunched-up face. “I’ll call you by your stupid pet name if you crave affection that badly.”

Your mouth gaped open at his callous words and you felt as though you’d been unmasked. It was undoubtedly pathetic but the truth was you considered your first name to be too harsh, too cold. You much preferred being sensitively referred to by an affectionate pet name- one that people often didn’t realise they were being duped into using, assuming it was real. But not him.

“You won’t get the opportunity to use it, I’ll make sure of that.” You crossed your arms and furrowed your brows.

“Well you’re just a little ball of anger aren’t you?” He chuckled, finding your short temper adorable. “Very tense for one so young.”

“And you’re very nosy for one so old.” You gather your colouring pencils into your fluffy pencil case, your creative inspiration rattled by his presence. You surmised that he was at least 10 years your senior; his hands looked weathered but still supple, his crows feet visible but not yet entrenched.

“Hey, you don’t have to move, I’m leaving.” He protests but you’re already on your feet. “Alright moody, suit yourself.”

You shoot him a displeased look as you clutch your sketchpad tightly against your chest, turning your back to him and taking a step forward.

“By the way.” He adds and you halt tentatively. “You should really wear a longer dress if you’re gonna be laying down like that. I could see your panties.”

Your cheeks flush a burning red and you screw your eyes shut in embarrassment.

“They’re cute though. I like the strawberry print.” You can feel his grin beaming through his words and you want nothing more than to run away and never see his stupid handsome face again.

“Leave me alone.” You attempt to say confidently but it comes out as more of a squeak. You tried to walk off with as much dignity as you could manage under the pressure of his burning gaze but you ended up frantically skipping back, wanting to go home and bury your face in your pillows as soon as possible.

“What a rude man.” You thought. “Rude and irritatingly attractive.”

Later that evening, you took it upon yourself to bake several lots of chocolate chip cookies- eager to use them as a way of getting into your new neighbour’s good graces since you lived off a steady diet of praise and compliments. You separated the different batches and ordered them into various paper bags, each lovingly wrapped with a ribbon and placed delicately into a woven wicker basket. Glancing into the mirror before you set off, you manoeuvred your lace-trimmed tank top down a little to accentuate your cleavage- you loved to watch men struggle to maintain eye contact with you.

After determining your chest looked too bare, you bounded over to the bedroom to retrieve your favourite necklace- a dainty silver rabbit pendant. As you fiddled with the clasp, something out of the window caught your eye- you noticed that the house usually shrouded in darkness had a glimmer of light peeking through its half-opened blinds.

Curiosity inevitably got the better of you so you grabbed your baked goods and made a beeline to the dark house, intrigued by the prospect of who its resident might be.

Clearing your throat and brushing some creases out of your skirt, you press the sooty doorbell and hope your mystery neighbour is in a sociable mood. The hopeful smile is wiped off your face when the door opens and you see the same rude man from this morning before you.

“Look at that! My very own girl scout.” He laughs incredulously and you form a face of disgust.

“It’s you.” You recoiled.

“Try saying that with less repulsion.” He retaliated, eyes flicking between your frowning face, your tits and the basket of cookies. “Coming to a man’s house and being disappointed that he lives there. That a hobby of yours?”

“N-no, I didn’t know who lived here.” You stuttered, taking in the sight before you: he must’ve just gotten out the shower as his hair was dripping wet and his shirt unbuttoned, a silver cross necklace dangling over his collarbones and positioned between his firm pecs.

“Thought you said you don’t talk to strangers, let alone turn up at their house.” He cocked his head to the side, leaning against his doorframe. “Uninvited, at that.”

“I don’t. At least not the rude ones who make comments about a girl’s underwear.” You retorted petulantly.

“Hey, that was me looking out for you. Don’t know what kind of pervs live ‘round here- they could take advantage of a girl like you. Those for me?” He points at the basket.

“I-I guess.” You go to take out one bag but he snatches the whole basket. “What do you mean a girl like me?”

“Oh you know-“ He speaks casually, mouth half full of his first helping of baked goods already. “Ditzy. Spoilt and naive.”

You huff in disbelief- you’d hardly had two conversations with the guy and he’d managed to insult you several times already.

“Don’t get offended, princess. I’m sure you’re not used to people speaking so candidly with you but welcome to the real world.” He makes a face indicating that he was impressed with your confectionary, licking the crumbs off his fingers. “This your first time living away from home?” He points his second cookie at your face before stuffing that in his mouth too.

“Uh, yeah.” You drawl, confused. What planet was this guy from?

“Alone?” He lowers his voice, staring hungrily into your eyes.

“Yeah.” You squeak, wondering why your confidence had abandoned you.

“Shouldn’t have told me that.” He sneered. “I could be a predator and you’ve just armed me with the knowledge that you have no one to protect you.” His eyes look crazed and you get the sense that he got a kick out of playing around with you.

“Well, are you?” You reply unamused and he drops the act, looking at you through squinted discerning eyes.

“Mm, no.” He sniffed. “Haven’t got the stomach for it. Great cookies, by the way. You’re quite the little baker.”

You can’t resist the smile that creeps up on your face, delighted with his approval. “I try.” You humbly gleam, teetering on your tiptoes.

“Aw, you actually look sort of pretty when you’re not scowling.” Your glowing face drops in an instant, marred by his insult.

“Sort of?”

“Yeah. Like in an endearing but bratty child kind of way.” He notices your sullen face, tensed up with disapproval and confusion. “You’re not really my type, sweetheart.”

“Y-you’re not mine either!” You spit out a little too fast.

“The only difference is I don’t care.” He snorts and you remain in stunned silence, your ego bruised beyond words. “What’s the matter? Never had a man uninterested in you? Come in, I’ll make you a consolatory coffee.”

He gestures for you to enter and you walk in cautiously, following his lead to the lounge. His house was minimalist, fitted with sleek black furniture and a surprisingly clean kitchen at the other end of the living room.

“I don’t drink coffee. And what is your type then?” You sink down onto his leather armchair and cross your arms.

“I like a more mature, developed woman.” You look down at your large round breasts. “I meant emotionally.” He adds before you can say anything.

“I’m plenty mature.” You think grumpily. You knew better than to base your self-worth on the validation of a man but goddamn it, you wanted him to like you even if you didn’t like him.

“My type is also mature men.” You countered haughtily.

“I don’t recall asking.” He pours himself a coffee and sits down opposite you, continuing to steal glances at your chest.

“I also like them wealthy.” You add, spurred on by his disaffection.

“Like your daddy?” He smirks as he takes a sip and you scowl at him.

“Oh no, not the frown again.” He falters mockingly. “If looks could kill…you know Bunny, you shouldn’t let things get to you so easily.”

“Can’t help it. I’m sensitive.” You mumble half-mindedly, preoccupied with plotting all the ways in which you could seduce him. You tried to have self-respect, you really did, but it was just so hard. Especially when you’d just been dealt such an unprecedently juicy challenge; a man who didn’t want to sleep with you? It was practically unheard of and you humbly decided you would take it upon yourself to cure him of this affliction.

Next chapter

Taglist:

@crazy4hotmen @erinkeifer @mortalheartache @arzua10 @mugwump327 @offthethirlwall

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen fanfiction #anakin skywalker #James Kelly #American heist #james Kelly fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you

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jnnul · 2 months

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in another lifetime... (nct dream)

a/n: mark’s is a little too long...this was originally a fic for him but it, uh, turned into a dreamies fic idk how either word count: 2.6k genre: fluff

in another lifetime, mark lee would be a novelist. he would be writing manuscript after manuscript about dragons and oceans and crossing oceans on dragons. he would be quiet, oftentimes just scribbling away on some fat stack of papers. mark would be handsome, in that nerdy and almost innocent way. he would push his glasses further up on his nose bridge, always meaning to get new glasses and then never getting a chance to.

mark wouldn’t drink coffee (his parents didn’t like him drinking coffee) so he would just sip a cup of hot chocolate milk ceremoniously. he would bring his own tumbler every time to that hole in the wall coffee shop he frequented because as much as he loves his parents, he doesn’t want other people to know that he’s 23 and he’s still drinking hot chocolate.

you would probably be the barista at said hole in the wall coffee shop. owned by your close friend’s mom, every time you would come home from college, you would come help out your friend and her mother at the shop. all the regulars would know you by name because you’ve always got this kind smile and welcoming air about you.

fitting that you would be a secondary education major, many people would muse, especially when you would set about making some absolutely monstrous drink without so much as batting your pretty eyes.

mark, in particular, would be so intrigued by your ambiance that he begins to write you into his stories without even realizing. suddenly, the main character has a lilt in their voice like you do. and even the villain flashes award-winning smiles to their henchmen every so often.

needless to say, mark would be smitten. crushes are probably foreign to mark. for as long as mark has been able to pronounce the word ‘crush’ he had denounced the idea altogether. inseparable with his legal pad filled with random ideas, mark would write down everything he saw and felt - and subsequently, the fleeting passion would fade into doodles and sketches of forgotten characters.

but somehow, you would be different. maybe it’s way you remember exactly how mark likes his hot chocolate by his third time ordering it, or the fact that you call out, “one latte for mr. lee!” even though you both know full well that there is no latte in the tumbler you have just filled up.

either way, mark would probably hand you a letter one august evening, a couple weeks before you head back for your last year of college, and needless to say, you say yes to the question in the letter.

“be the main character in my life and go on a date with me?”

in another life time, renjun is an artist. he’s still up and coming but he’s got talent and eye for beauty that not many people have. he’s almost as beautiful as the landscapes that he draws, with the same twinkle in his eyes and the slight upward tilt to his lips. but his artwork is something else.

as beautiful as renjun is, you can’t take your eyes away from his art. there would be some with vivid blues and reds and greens that should clash in a way that such bold colors do but somehow renjun makes it work. there would be some with muted colors, reflecting the struggles that renjun has seen and faced during his lifetime, evoking sadness in even the casual passerby. and there would be some that just showed how madly in love renjun was with you.

you would probably be his childhood sweetheart. someone who, although they appreciated the arts, worked a stable, well-paying job. someone who cared more about putting food on the table and supporting their partner in their passions than perhaps pursuing your own passions. renjun would probably argue with you, especially when he’s going through artist’s block or his paintings aren’t selling.

he’s worried for you after all. “it’s selfish of me to continue to paint when it’s not paying the rent. you should get to follow your own passions too.” he would say, brushing away the tears in his eyes as he looks at a half-finished canvas that you started back in high school. you had never quite gotten around to finishing it. but every time he felt that way, you would put a hand on renjun’s cheek and tilt his face towards yours gently.

gentle, so gentle. everything about you was gentle. your touch, your smile, your love. and you would press a soft, almost fleeting kiss to his cheek. “i am following my passion, renjun. i would follow you to the ends of the earth.”

and that would be that. renjun would be an exuberant lover. he was, after all, an artist and what are artists without their emotions? often times, renjun’s mood would fluctuate with the painting he was working on (or vice versa) and every single time, you would bring him back to the earth with a knowing look and a loving touch. renjun brought the color and passion into your life that you don’t think that you would have otherwise.

and he would give you the love of a lifetime. nothing less, of course, for his muse.

in another lifetime, jeno would be a teacher. throughout his childhood, jeno would be a good student - not at the absolute pinnacle of academic achievement - but he would make the top ten list of students almost every single year up all the way through high school. and then he’s faced with college and deciding what field he wants to go into and he’s stuck.

throughout his life, he has been a pretty normal kid, according to himself. he was good at studying but he was only good enough at it to go to a decent school. he liked sports but he liked having a real job more and then again, he was also just good enough that. he was alright in pretty much everything so he ended up committing to nothing and becoming a teacher.

anybody can tell that his heart’s not in though. for some reason, for all of the ways that jeno lee had thought himself to be just average, he feels as though he’s restricted himself to a role that he’s too big for.

until he actually starts teaching - then it feels like the earth has opened up underneath him when he steps into his first classroom full of fourteen year olds, all with bright eyes and curious minds. and jeno falls in love with something for the first time. he loves that he gets to walk into a classroom and foster children into pursuing their passions and interests. he goes to every sporting event, marching band concert, salsa y salsa night that he’s invited to. he sponsors three clubs (robotics, fashion club, and songwriters association) that he knows next to nothing about just because he can’t get over the fact that these kids trust him with their carefully guarded passions and promises to themselves.

he sees so much in each and every student and walks out of every parent teacher conference with glowing recommendations and referrals because it’s so obvious to everyone that he truly cares. and as much as he’s appreciative for all of the care and attention he gets from all of the parents, it’s different when it comes from you.

you’re the parent to one of jeno’s favorite students, a shy and quiet student who was very intelligent and well-mannered but slow to participate in class. and jeno’s well-aware that it’s inappropriate to think this during a parent teacher conference but when you walk in the room, the only thing that jeno can think is wow. they are absolutely gorgeous. that’s how jeno lee falls in love for the second time.

conversation flows easy and one thing leads to another and now suddenly you and jeno are dating. the student gets a lot more comfortable around jeno as well, and he’s even caught them reaching out a shy hand to some of the other students to show them the book they were reading. he texts as much to you and the two of you continue happily down your path of content and quiet, nurturing love.

in another lifetime, donghyuck would be a singer/songwriter. he probably tries hard to find something else to love, something else to latch onto - preferably something that pays the bills without any doubt of the next paycheck. but no matter how many times he switches his major or tries to find new passions, he falls into music every single time. so he decides that there’s only one life to live and throws himself into music.

it takes a while before he gets discovered. he gets discovered for producing one of his friend’s songs and slowly, as he builds up a steady fanbase, he begins releasing more and more music. when donghyuck hits 10k listeners on spotify, he feels as though there was nothing that could stop him.

until he’s completely stuck. he’s in a creative block, completely unable to come up with anything to write or sing. every time he tries to put pencil to paper, he ultimately draws a blank, unable to even think of how he feels about his writer’s block.

and then he’s in the studio, producing another song for the friend who brought him to this level of success at all when you walk into the recording booth. you were featuring on the song for the friend as a favor (your mutual friend thought you had a gorgeous voice even though you really had no interest in stardom) and donghyuck suddenly was hit with inspiration.

he didn’t really know what it was about you. maybe it was because of the way you smiled at the friend as the two of you goofed off in the recording booth. or the way you would always ask donghyuck if he had any thoughts on how you were approaching the song. or the way that your eyes seem to twinkle with the light of the stars in the dim lighting of the shitty recording booth.

whatever it is, you’ve got donghyuck. hook, line, sinker. and so, with little no explanation, donghyuck finds himself asking you to spend time with him, just so that the creative juices would continue flowing the way that they always seem to when you’re with him. somehow, you just being in the same room as him, focused on whatever homework you were doing, is enough for him.

and one day, when you see a song come up on your spotify feed that says - ‘go out with me?’ and your initials are listed in the songwriter’s credits, you find that perhaps you should thank that friend for dragging you into the recording booth after all.

in another lifetime, jaemin would be a computer scientist. he probably would’ve tried to get onto the surgery/medical path but promptly changed his mind after seeing just how long he’d have to be studying before he got to do anything he actually wanted to do.

he wouldn’t be in love with his job - he mostly just sees it as a means to an end more than anything. but that’s okay because he recognizes that a job is just meant to do for living expenses but not for living. jaemin gets upset sometimes that he isn’t really pursuing his passions on any level for his job but he’s a rational man. he rationalizes that it’s best if he has a well-paying job (that he’s very strict about 9 am entry and 5 pm exit with) to use the rest of the day for what he actually wants to do.

so when his company asks him to learn about a new coding language to better prepare for the integration of ai into their daily workflow, jaemin considers jumping ship and joining another company. he didn’t even like his job well enough on its own - why would he go out of his way to learn a new language?

well, because you’re the one teaching it to him.

you’re the instructor for the course his company is forcing him to take to learn about this new programming language and you had him wrapped around your little finger. jaemin was never a bad student, but if he had put in the same amount of effort into his classes in undergrad as he was now in your class, he’s damn sure he’d have been a c-suite officer by now.

you’re probably well aware of his crush (he is the singular person in the course who submits the assignments well before the deadline - and one of very few who bother to do the assignments at all) but due to the technical power you have over him, you don’t bother even trying to entertain him at all.

however, when jaemin cleverly sneaks his phone number into his final project, you end up finding yourself accidentally writing down the silly little digits onto a post-it note to save to your phone at a later date.

in another life, chenle is an entrepreneur. he tries to follow the footsteps of those who came before him to inherit the family business - he truly does. but he finds that he simply cannot bring himself to do work for a company he doesn’t truly care about. so, he works hard to create his own path.

he fails more than once, but he’s a strong person and he doesn’t get down very easily. in fact, it’s after he meets you that he creates the business idea that finally allows him to take on the world.

after he meets you, everything seems to go his way and even though chenle isn’t usually the superstitious type, he always insists that you stay by his side whenever he makes big decisions. first, as an acquaintance, then as a friend, and then as a partner.

chenle gains a sense of confidence and stability (two things he’d never had thought would go hand in hand) after he meets you. his life becomes a lot mroe understandable, and you allow him to find a sense of comfort in you that he cannot find elsewhere. it becomes easier to rest his mind, and once he does, he always comes up with better ideas than the last.

he still insists that you’re his lucky charm though, and although you know it’s not true, you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.

in another life, jisung becomes a soccer player. he knows it’s nowhere close to easy to become a soccer player but once he discovers that that’s what he wants to do, no matter how much he tries to do something else, he can’t find it in himself to become anything else. his parents do their best to support him but he still can’t help that he feels guilty. at this age, he wants to start to be able to support his parents - and perhaps if he chose to do a 9 - 5, he might’ve been able to.

but now, he was just scratching the surface of the success that he wanted to achieve. everything changes when he meets you though.

you’re the captain of the national woman’s soccer team and jisung has had a crush on you since before he even knew that his dream was soccer. and so when you come to his little club (it’s not that little - they won the national championships last year) to serve as the coach for a two-week training camp, he’s doing his best to impress you.

and impressed, you are. you admire his work ethic and his style and on your recommendation, jisung applies to play for the national soccer team and gets selected (as a reserve player, but that’s more than he was before!), beginning a romance for the ages.

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caughtonwebcam · 5 months

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silly cartoons (ft. 2010s pony trauma)

(mlp au: @going-down-2-my-little-park originally by @the-humankite )

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

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The Grey Zone 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, age gap, bullying, toxic parental figures, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your relationship with your parents has never been good, and that with a family friend takes a strange turn(goth!reader)

Character: Lloyd Hansen

Note: I'm tired of being sick

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

You prefer the opening shift. Finishing early gives you extra motivation to make use of the rest of the day. Yet that morning is slogging by like wet sand. You still have an hour left before you’re free and even then, you have hours of studying to catch up on.

You enjoy your work, short of the occasional unpleasant customer. The shop is slow despite its location in the mall, but that’s expected with its niche catalogue. The New Age collection often attracts curious eyes but few purchases. The candles and jewelry sell most often, more marketable to those in the market for a gift or ‘just looking’.

You lean on the counter, doodling with a pen on a strip of receipt paper. Little stars and a crescent moon. The mall is starting to get busier as lunchtime approaches. You twirl the pen and look up, only realising then that you have a customer.

You drop the pen and quickly flit around the counter. It’s a good thing the manager is only in on evening shift. You approach the man perusing the bucket of discount crystals and slow as you recognise the back of his slicked hair. Really?

“Mr. Hansen?” You sputter in surprise.

He turns and smiles at you, a stone in his hand, “hey, little lamb,” he greets coolly, “fancy meeting you here.” You squint as he laughs at your cynical stare, “sarcasm,” he scoffs.

“Oh, uh,” you go to cross your arms but resists, instead hooking your thumbs into the chains attached to your black cargo pants, “are you looking for something?”

“Besides you,” he winks as he drops the stone back in the bucket, “they don’t have the hair gel I like at Carmine’s. Apparently they don’t manufacture that scent anymore. So I was wandering around and I just stumbled in.”

You nod and watch him reach into the bucket and pull out a small shard of lapus lazuli, “you got any Carnelian?”

“Carnelian?” You furrow your brow, “uh, I don’t know. Probably not in there…”

You turn and stride over to the shelf of labeled stones; those ones with a better natural shape or cut. You search the tags and find a small canister of orangish red stones, smooth and ovular; some opaque and few with patches of translucence.

Lloyd stops beside you, close. Too close. He tends to do that. He crowds you in without realising it. You hold out the container.

“You like crystals?” You ask with an edge of doubt; you didn’t expect he would be into that sort of thing.

“Eh, I’m intrigued,” he takes the canister and examines it, “you know, after you showed me your cards, I was reading around. It’s kinda neat, this stuff. You know, I don’t really buy into the mystic shit but it’s fun.”

“Ah,” you nod. Most people have that opinion. It doesn’t bother you. You’re more pragmatic than dreamy. You accept that you have no control over the world, but you don’t believe there’s any force around that does.

“You got cards here?” He shakes the crystals as he lifts his chin.

“Uh, yeah, just over there,” you point to the other wall.

You back away and go back to the counter. You just need some space. In such a small shop, it’s easy to feel suffocated. He goes to the shelf of tarot cards and you languish in the silence of his perusal.

“There a difference between these things?” He asks.

“No, not really. Just the look.”

“Ah,” he accepts and spins on his heel. He approaches the other side of the counter and places down his purchases. The crystals and a deck of cards with a Roman mythology aesthetic. “Just these.”

You ring him through and he plays with the necklaces on the small rack next to the till. He tilts his head as he examines a piece of amethyst attached to black cord. He lets it dangle and reaches into his back pocket. He presents his card and you pass over the machine.

“When are you done?” He asks.

“Um, in an hour,” you answer.

“Hmm,” he nods as the machine accepts the transaction, “got the whole day ahead of you.”

“Kinda,” you wait for the printer, “want a receipt?”

He shakes his head, smiling at you. You take out a small black bag and put his things inside, sliding it over to him. As he takes it, his hands brush yours.

“Don’t work too hard,” he says.

“Er, sure, thanks,” you eke out awkwardly, “have a good day.”

“Going well so far,” he smirks before he turns away and struts to the door.

He looks back and you raise your brows at him, perturbed. He finally leaves and you let out a breath. You wonder if he knew you worked there or if it’s as deliberate as it seems.

You take out your phone and lean on the counter as you key in Carnelian. You don’t know much about the stone and you can’t remember anyone ever asking about it. You nearly choke as you read the description; ‘Carnelian is great for increasing sexual energy…’

Is he trying to embarrass you? Your mind lists to a couple nights before when he sat on your bed. It all seems a bit much, a bit too calculated. You just can’t find the punchline to go with the set up.

🖤

Meghan shows up to take over for the afternoon. You leave her, intent on your mission. You’ll get your matcha to go and head to the library for your study session. Studying at the cafe had proven too distracting last time.

You get in line, flicking through your phone as you shift with the bodies ahead of you. You hear a rabble behind you as a large group enters, clustering at the end of the queue. You tuck your phone away as you recognise a voice and keep your chin down. You shrink down, hoping to go unnoticed in the busy cafe.

“Oh, look who’s back again,” Shania guffaws, “it’s the dead girl.”

You don’t look back. You have as much right to be here as them. You don’t know why she’s so pressed. There are other coffee shops and no reason for her to associate with you. High school is over. This isn’t the cafeteria, there is no cool table.

“Hey, Morticia,” Kaliana comes up on your left-side, “thanks for saving us a spot.”

They try to push in ahead of you but you step up, blocking them. You keep your head straight as Shania jostles you from the other side. At least this time you don't have anything for them to dump on you.

“Don’t be uncool, face paint,” Shania snarls, “know your place.”

“Go away,” you mutter to your boots.

“I can’t hear you over all that metal,” she reaches out and tugs on your nose ring. “Speak up, little girl.”

“I don’t know how you breathe around that snot catcher,” Kaliana chortles.

You shake your head and cross your arms. You step back and wave to the space in front of you, “fine. Go ahead.”

They girls laugh. They sound like hyenas. As they go to step in front of you, Shania cries out and liquid splashes over her shoulders, dripping down the front of her baby pink crop top. She puts her hands up and turns to face the culprit.

“You loser–” She yipes.

“Didn’t see ya,” Mr. Hansen’s voice brings your eyes up, “watch where you’re walking.”

“What? Me? You–”

“Look, I don’t need some knock off barbie shrieking at me so zip it,” he spits.

“Excuse you! You can’t talk to me like that.”

“I can and I am,” he snickers.

“Ew, you creep, get out of here,” Kaliana steps up next to Shania, “No one wants to hear from you or your dirty porn stache–”

“I didn’t ask, pancakes.”

“Pancakes?” She sniffs.

“Flip, flap,” he motions to his chest with a mean smirk, “if you’re gonna go out in a shirt like that, you could at least put a few socks in your bra.”

“Ugh, you perv–”

“Trust me, you’re the last thing that makes my dick hard,” he curls his lip.

“Whatever,” Shania blusters as she pulls the wet fabric away from her chest, “Kal, let’s go.”

The girls stomp off and you stare after them. Hansen puts down the empty cup and chortles. He turns to stand parallel to you, “well, I don’t know who’s drink that was but I hope they don’t mind.”

“What?”

“Oops,” he shrugs, “so what are we drinking, babe? Hmm. You seem like you got a sweet tooth. White mocha? Caramel?”

“Uh, no–”

“Wait, wait, dark chocolate, that seems more your speed.” You shoot him a look and he meets your eyes. He smiles and tilts his head, “kidding.”

“I can get my own drink,” you insist.

“I’m sure you can, but I want to get it for you.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeats.

“Why would you want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re not answering me,” you sigh and move up to the counter.

“I don’t know, you make me wanna do nice things,” he says and faces the barista, “black coffee and whatever she wants.”

You hesitate but take your cue. You order your matcha latte and he taps his card. You clamp your lips together. Does he think you’re pathetic? That you need him to pay for a tea?

You go to wait by the order window and sway impatiently. You grip the strap of your bag and stare out into the mall. Hansen leans into you, brushing his arm against you.

“So, couple of bitches, huh?” He says.

“What?” You whip around to face him.

“Those girls.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We went to school together…”

“Figured,” he shakes his head, “they’re only jealous. Girls like that, they don’t know how to feel anything else. Always a competition.”

“Hm, I guess.”

“Not like you.”

You glance at him then to the counter. You just want to get your tea and leave. You tap your fingers on the strap of your bag.

“So, the lake house,” he changes the subject, “what do you think?”

“Uh, dunno,” you watch the barista at the steaming espresso machine, “dad didn’t say anything.”

“I’m not asking about dad. You ever been to the lake?”

“Which lake?”

He chuckles, “now who’s not answering who?”

You shrug and cross your arm over your chest, rubbing your shoulder. Your order is up. Before you can move, Hansen puts his hand on your lower back, ushering you with him to grab his cup as you claim your own.

You pull away from him as you leave the shop. He keeps pace with you as you try to figure out a way to nicely get rid of him. You didn’t expect to run into him twice. How reappearance convinces you it’s less than coincidental, but would he really wait around the mall just to bother you?

“I should go study…” you say at last.

“Study. Boring,” he comments.

“Maybe but… I have to.”

“Oh, do you always do the right thing?” He prompts.

You don’t know how to answer. You turn the hot cup in your hand as you walk along the mall corridor.

“No, I don’t know, I…”

“A good girl like you, always doing what you should but never what you want to do,” he says, “did you ever even ask yourself what you want?”

“I.. I don’t know what you mean.”

“You want to what? Study boring books? Get a boring degree? Get a boring job?” He continues, “all so one day you can live in a boring house with a boring husband? And have boring kids?”

“I– I never… I’m just going to school.”

“Because? Because you never thought of doing anything else. Of anything fun. I’m fun, sweetheart.”

You blow across the lid of your tea and taste it. It’s good but you find it hard to enjoy. Not with him there. Not with your mind racing.

“I like being boring,” you say at last.

He snorts, “sure you do. You're whole look screams boring. Well, let me know when you’re really bored, sweetheart. I’ll give you everything you never knew you wanted.”

You peek over at him. His eyes are on you, his cheek dimples. He raises his cup in a toasting gesture and turns on his heel.

“I’ll be waiting,” he tosses over his shoulder.

You stop and watch his smooth gait. His confidence is almost intimidating. It’s as if he knows things you don’t. You turn away and continue towards the south entrance. Boring is just fine, boring is safe.

🖤

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Your father’s voice carries through the wall.

“Ah, don’t you get fucking rude with me,” your mother slurs back, “fuck you, Ray. Fuck you!”

It’s not unusual. You’ve heard the same argument over and over. It doesn’t matter what starts it, it’s always the same. They yell until they’re hoarse, they slam doors, and in the morning, they act like nothing happened at all.

You put your earbuds in and turn up your music. You know how to tune them out. If you’re good at anything, it’s at shutting out the world around you.

You lay down and close your eyes, holding your phone against your stomach as you mouth the lyrics. You just want to fall asleep but the anxiety of knowing they’re fighting keeps you awake. You just need to wait it out.

Your phone buzzes but you ignore it. It’s probably just an email or another notification trying to make you spend money. You focus on the layers of the music; the strings, the percussion, the vocals. Your phone goes off again.

You raise it and open your eyes, the screen fuzzy as your eyes adjust to the darkness. You tap the speech bubble that signifies a new message. The number is private.

‘Getting packed?’ The message reads. You have no idea what it means. You send back, ‘wrong number’. Three dots pop up immediately.

‘No it’s not.’ The answer comes swiftly. You return a question mark and nothing else.

‘You’re going to need a good jacket for the lake house.’

You rub your forehead and sit up. You key in, ‘Mr. Hansen?’

‘The one and only.’ He confirms. How did he get your number? ‘If you don’t have one, we can take a shopping trip.’

You don’t get it. What does he want from you? You know the way he is, you’ve heard the way he talks about other people, you hear the stuff he says to your dad. Their friendship at most is acrimonious. Is this a ploy against your father?

‘I have a jacket. I’m sleeping. Good night.’

You lay down and turn onto your side, keeping the ear bud from slipping out as you put your phone beside your pillow. It lights up with a new message. You close your eyes. You lay in the storm of your nerves. You have to check. You reach for your phone and read the screen.

‘No you’re not’.

You don’t understand. How would he know? He’s bluffing. You won’t entertain his little games, he’s just messing with you. Just like everyone else.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the grey zone #the gray man #series #au

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softshrimpy · 1 year

Text

How To Woo A Hot Principal

Chapter 1/?: Step 1- Shameless Flirting

Summary: Working at the weathervane was exactly what you needed. The routine, the people, your co-worked. It certainly helped that a certain tall, blonde, fucking gorgeous woman happened to frequent the cafe. Now some may call hopelessly flirting with your customers inappropriate behavior.

But truly, when it came it Larissa Weems, who could blame you?

I’m just in love with Larissa Weems and a silly bitch. I hope you enjoy ✨🦐

Chapter 2

Cross posted to AO3 Here

HTWAHP Masterlist

——————————————————————————

“Just because I like older women does not mean I’m a homewrecker.”

“Huh, interesting.”

“You’re telling me you’ve known me for three months now and this whole time you thought I was out here waiting to ruin a marriage?”

“In my defence-“

“I can’t believe this, I thought we were friends Kingston. Now I have to rethink everything.” You sighed, dramatically.

“You’re the most dramatic person I’ve ever met.” He chuckles.

You slap him with your cloth, scoffing at his comment before going back to cleaning the coffee machine.

You had been in Jericho for a total of three and a half months. It was a quaint little town, a bit hyper-focused on their pilgrim ancestry but not the worst small town you’d experienced. You had been working at the Weathervane since you’d arrived, enjoying the routine it provided and the socializing. That was where you had met James Kingston (A British man disguised as a regular person in your professional opinion. I mean what kind of name is James Kingston anyway?). The two of you had become fast friends, partly due to the work you did and partly because he found you hilarious and you found him tolerable. (this is a lie, you love him dearly.)

Working as a barista meant you got to know most of the residents of Jericho quite quickly. Some you found infinitely more interesting than others.

“Oh look its your lady crush.” James comments, wheezing when you whip around from what you were doing to stare out the window.

“Shut up, I just- I respect a woman in power that’s all.”

“Oh I’m sure its all respect in that filthy brain of yours when you think of her.”

“Fuck off.” You laughed, hurrying to the register when you saw her coming through the door.

“Good morning miss Weems.” You greeted, doing your best to shut your heart up and give her a relatively normal smile.

“How many times have I told you to call me Larissa darling.” She smiles, much to the chagrin of your heart-calming plans.

“She’s a bit slow this one.” James jokes, earning him a swift kick on the shin.

“Your usual, Larissa?” You ask.

She nods, chuckling at the two of you before moving to sit at one of the booths. Larissa came around often enough, usually in the mornings, you assumed before the academy day officially started. Sometimes she’d come around after dropping one of the students at Dr Kinbotts. You lived for the times she stopped by, almost always kicking James off the register if he was stationed there just to talk to her. So yes, you had a massive crush on the woman. But honestly? Who could blame you? She was a goddess among you mere mortals and you were simply relishing in her heavenly presence when you could.

Christ, you were a useless gay.

You finished making her usual, quickly doodling a small flower next to her name before taking it to her. You place it down on the table with a flourish, bowing dramatically.

“Your coffee my fair lady.”

She chuckles, shaking her head at your antics before standing, coffee in hand.

“Thank you, y/n. You always make my mornings delightful.” She hums, squeezing your arm as she leaves.

You watch as she goes, a dreamy smile on your face, before proudly strutting back behind the counter. James giggles at you earning him yet another smack with the towel.

The rest of your day is pretty mundane. Dr Kinbott stops by at around 12 for her usual. The sheriff comes around and gets an Americano to go (You suspect he’s actually just checking on Tyler.) Throughout the day you’re giddy thanks to Larissa. You often find yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to see her more often. You think perhaps you might actually implode if she were to ever have more than a two-minute conversation with you. You finish up the day with Tyler, letting him leave before closing up. All in all, a regular day in Jericho.

You were working your regular Saturday shift when Larissa arrived, looking rather upset. She placed her order and sat down at a booth, pulling out her laptop and getting to work. You made sure to put a little extra sugar in her coffee and grabbed one of the choc chip cookies before bringing it to her. You placed it down on her table, earning a mumbled thanks as she picked up the coffee. It took her a moment to notice the cookie, but when she did she glanced up at you questioningly.

“It’s on the house. You look like you’re having a shitty day so I thought you could use a little something to make your day a bit better.” You smiled, clasping your hands behind your back.

“You really are too kind to me,” she mumbled, taking a sip of her coffee.

“Pffft, Nah. You deserve it.” You brushed her off. You took a moment before speaking again. “I know we don’t know each other that well but uh if you want to talk I’m here. And I can give brilliant commentary, no advice though, I’d probably encourage murder or something equally illegal.”

She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. You think her laugh might be one of your favourite sounds.

“That’s very sweet, but aren’t you busy with your work?” she asks.

At that, you throw your apron off and over your shoulder and sit down across from her.

“Galpin’s pretty competent, plus he owes me one anyway. So spill.”

She considers you for a moment, before heaving a sigh.

“The academy is receiving a new student next week.” She starts. “Which under usual circumstances would be fantastic, however, this student happens to be the daughter of… an ex-paramour of mine.” She mumbles, almost drawing in on herself.

“Did they do something awful that made you break up with them?” you ask.

“No actually, uh she broke up with me…for the man that is now her husband.”

You stare at her for a moment, mouth agape.

“You’re telling me someone chose to walk away from you? But you’re- I mean you’re gorgeous and smart and- was she blind?? Was she dumb?? I mean obviously, she was but… what.”

She chuckles at your outburst, cheeks flushing slightly.

“Yes, well, they seem very happy together. And I’m sure she’ll rub that in my face in some offhand way. And she’ll make jokes about me marrying my job because ‘no one else would want me’ which I-I mean it’s not- that’s not why I’m so devoted to the school!”

“She sounds like a bitch.” You comment, “I can throw hot coffee at her if that’ll make you feel better?”

“You’re very sweet but that’s assault darling.”

“I’d literally kill a man for you no questions asked, assault is nothing.”

She chuckles, swatting at your arm before sighing again and dropping her head into her hands.

“Well, look, I don’t know who your ex is, the stupid bitch, but you have become a talented, successful, absolutely gorgeous woman. So, no matter what happened between you or what she does whenever you see her, know that she’s just a jealous, silly old hag who could never be half as brilliant as you are.”

She stares at you at that, her eyes bright. You wait for her to say something, feeling yourself get more nervous the longer she stays silent. You play with your fingers, thinking perhaps you went too far and have now fucked any and all chances of having even a friendship with this gorgeous woman.

You stand up, pull your apron back on and do your best not to overthink every word you’ve said.

“Uhm, sorry, have-have a great day Larissa.” You mumble turning to walk away.

Suddenly she grabs your wrist, stopping you and turning you around. She stands up, towering over you. She looks down at you, a dazzling smile on her face. And then, by the gods, she bends down and presses a kiss to your cheek, and hot fucking damn you almost spontaneously combust on the spot. You stare up at her, awestruck and definitely blushing madly.

“Thank you, y/n” she smiles. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

And with that, she squeezes your wrist, giving you a dazzling smile and leasing the coffee shop. You watch after her like a lovesick puppy, heart racing.

You’re absolutely whipped for this woman.

Larissa didn’t come around for the next few days. But you knew she was a busy woman, she had things to do. You definitely weren’t considering changing your name and fleeing the country thinking she now didn’t want to see your face again after what you said and her thanking you was just because she felt awkward. Definitely not.

You found yourself glancing out the window every five minutes or perking up whenever the bell above the door would ring, only to deflate when it wasn’t Larissa walking in. You were busy wiping down one of the tables when James appeared at your side.

“My bestie in Christ, you know I love you, but you currently look like an abandoned puppy.”

“I do not,” you scoff.

“Sure, sure... Oh hey, Larissa!”

You whip around faster than you’ve ever moved in your life, coming face to face with an empty doorway. You scowl as you hear James wheeze next to you.

“Don’t forget we work with hot coffee. And accidents happen, Kingston.”

He laughs at your threat, patting your shoulder as he heads back to the counter. You continue working for a while before James pipes up again.

“Oh damn. Good morning miss Weems.”

“That’s it, give me the boiling water I’m giving you the wicked witch of the west treatment.”

“Now why would you be burning your friend at the mention of my name?” a velvet voice speaks from behind you.

You spin around on the spot, gaping at the woman behind you. There she stands, all tall and gorgeous and dreamy. You feel yourself blushing as you try to stand straighter and lean on the table you were cleaning. Unfortunately, you did such a great job that you slip and all but fall on your ass. You’re tempted once again to throw boiling water on James as he cackles at you. Larissa, the kind goddess she is, rushes over and offers you a hand.

When she pulls you up you realize you greatly underestimated how close she would be as you’re now toe to toe with her, staring up at her, cheeks aflame. She smiles down at you, her hand still holding yours as her other arm settles on your waist. You’re barely breathing at this point and then she has the audacity to flash you the cutest smile.

You take your chance to take her in up close, knowing you’ll probably never get this close to the goddess ever again. You notice the crow’s feet at the edge of her eyes and the slight bags under them she tried to hide with makeup. You also notice she smells absolutely fucking divine, you can’t quite pinpoint what it is but it suits her so well. You know you’re staring and you should stop, but you can’t help it.

“You should be more careful, sweetheart.” She murmurs, her eyes sparkling. “I wouldn’t want my favourite barista getting hurt.”

You’re still gaping at her, your brain turned to mush at the way she spoke, low and velvety. You open your mouth to speak but can’t seem to find anything clever to say, for once. Something she takes full advantage of.

“What’s wrong darling? Cat got your tongue?” she whispers, and oh god is she getting closer? She looks closer.

You’re startled back into the waking world when James accidentally drops something, the loud clanging making you jump back from the woman in front of you, heart racing and body flushed. Larissa drops her hands from their hold on you, stepping back slightly. You internally whimper at the loss of her touch and then immediately internally scold yourself for being so uselessly gay.

“So uh, how-how has everything been? I haven’t uh seen you around lately.” You commented, sliding behind the counter and getting started on her drink.

“It’s certainly been an eventful few days, to say the least.“ she sighed, leaning onto the counter.

“Well, you were dearly missed at our humble café.” You remark, placing her drink in front of her.

She chuckles at that taking a sip of her drink before letting out a relaxed sigh.

“God I could’ve used this yesterday.”

“The drink or my riveting conversation?” you joke.

“Perhaps both.” She hums.

“Well, I mean we could always deliver to your office on the days you can’t get here.” James offers, grinning at you.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble-” Larissa starts.

“It wouldn’t be any trouble at all. Isn’t that right?” he comments elbowing you suggestively.

“Oh! No of course it would- I would be honoured- I mean it would be my pleasure Larissa really.” You manage, giddy at the prospect of delivering her coffee every day.

“Really you don’t have to go through any extra fuss for me we have coffee at Nevermore so I-“

“You’re worth the fuss though.” You say, and then immediately want to shoot yourself for speaking aloud.

Silence falls between the three of you, Larissa looking shocked, James at a loss and you mentally preparing what to put on your tombstone. It’s a while before Larissa speaks.

“Well, when you put it like that how can I say no hm?”

“So, I get to deliver you coffee every day?” you grin, tapping the counter a few times in excitement.

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart. You can bring it to my office, I’ll expect you before nine.” She hums, turning to leave.

“Yes ma’am! I won’t let you down” you respond, giving her a mock salute.

She chuckles, waving at you and waits a fucking second did she just fucking wink at you?? Oh, Jesus on skates your life just keeps getting better and better. As soon as she’s outside and gone from view you all but squeal, throwing yourself at James.

#wlw #larissa weems #principal weems #wednesday #larissa weems x reader #principal weems x reader #larissa weems x you #HTWAHP

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cupidjyu · 8 months

Text

red flavor

eric x reader (submission for the cutest tbz summer event💕)

summary: your planned summer getaway doesn’t go as expected and it’s only you and eric, your childhood best friend. but, new feelings may just join you on your little vacation

genre: summer time!! beach house, childhood friends to lovers (my absolute fav btw), fluff, eric pining for years, getting together, cute little memories, feelings realization, juyeons just there for a second, slow dancing, slight hurt/comfort, eric's love language is fixing your hair, author is a big red velvet fan if you couldn't tell, love confession notes: this is more of a character/relationship study so if youre expecting a super simple oneshot with lesser description then im sorry🥲 songs mentioned are from this specific summer album LOL word count: 7.8k

Sometimes, you just liked to observe. A lot of people did anyway for various reasons. Some people, like your friend Juyeon, observed for the sake of reading others’ needs and emotions. He was always the one to notice when you were upset and he would hurry to make horrible puns just to make you laugh.

Other people, like Eric who’s been your best friend since the age when you two couldn’t even reach the kitchen counter, observed for the sake of learning who a person was as a whole. He was the one who took note of your tendency to shift energies and he would adjust his own to match yours.

You, on the other hand, liked to observe simply because what you saw brought you back to the past. You treasured good memories, so being able to see them again in the future brought a sense of joy to your heart like a flickering lightbulb.

In Eric’s room, there was a lot to observe that brought back the past. The broken science project of the solar system because you two were dancing too much late at night, the cut-out superhero mask that was supposed to be Eric’s last-minute Halloween costume in middle school, and the foolish paper heart that sparked it all in the first place.

Sitting on his bed, you then observed your two closest friends. Juyeon was on his phone whilst drinking from a water bottle—which he comically once tripped on that led to his lunch tray and its contents flying into your clothes. But that was how you became friends anyway. Eric was simply doodling in his sketchbook with a small, content smile. Just like he had done on that same paper heart in elementary school.

You felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you were met with a boy, about your age with a backpack on that was much too big for him. He had a kind smile and bright eyes.

And then he shoved a red, paper heart in your hands. Though, it took you a second to realize if it even was one with the edges so raggedly cut.

Bringing it up to your face, you read the large, shaky letters with your newly obtained skill of reading words.

“Will you marry me?”

Young Eric simply had bad comprehension skills. Apparently, he wasn't proposing. He just wanted to become friends.

“How does ‘marry me’ and ‘be my friend’ sound at all similar?” You muttered to yourself.

Eric looked up and groaned. “You’re still on that? I was a baby back then. A cute one at that.”

“An annoying one at that.”

Eric was about to argue back but Juyeon had spoken up with his lovely and calm voice.

“Let’s not fight. We have a trip to look forward to.”

The two of you immediately brightened at his reminder—the Summer Getaway. The three of you called it that because you all sucked at coming up with a better name. It was the trip that you had been planning since the first year of high school. The beach house to rent, the seaside to visit, everything already was laid out. And after so many years of fumbling with life and its many obstacles, it was finally happening.

“Tomorrow!” Eric sat up. “You’re all going to witness my dreamy beach boy actor debut.”

Juyeon looked at him, unimpressed. “And who’s the love interest?”

You snorted, turning your gaze over to Eric, only for him to be looking straight at you. Widening your eyes, you stuttered in confusion.

“No one,” He curtly said, turning away suddenly, his ears slightly red.

It was awkwardly silent. Until Juyeon nervously laughed. “What about clothes? Summer outfits?” He rambled. “We have to take a lot of pictures.”

You nodded, smiling excitedly. “I bought some just for this trip actually.” You frowned. “My paycheck practically disappeared.”

Juyeon laughed. “Was it as expensive as your prom outfit?”

Again, memories rushed back to you. More negative this time. With a frustrated sigh, you grimaced. “Let’s not bring that up. It was so bad, I looked horrible.”

Juyeon shook his head sympathetically. But your ears picked up someone else’s voice.

“I think you looked beautiful,” You heard Eric whisper. But maybe you were imagining things.

“Too bad my date dumped me the day after,” You continued.

“He was horrible for that,” Juyeon remarked.

“That’s why you should’ve taken me,” Eric piped up. He got up to sit next to you on the bed. And to your surprise, his hand gently came up to your hair to smooth it down. But of course, that's what friends did.

You nodded in agreement. “I should have. You looked handsome that day.”

Eric glanced at you briefly and you could catch the sight of his cheeks turning red. “Of course I did,” He stammered.

“Then why didn’t you ask anyone out for prom?” You questioned. “You went all alone.”

“Because you—“ Eric sighed, hurt flitting across his expression. “Nevermind.”

Juyeon coughed anxiously. “So!” He blurted. “The trip! Let’s talk about the trip tomorrow.”

—

“Where’s Juyeon?” Eric called out when he noticed you approaching the car. Yes, you prepared so much for the trip that you even had the car inspected and tested the driver—Eric—to make sure he could properly drive without swerving from talking too much. He did talk a lot.

You shrugged, lugging your bag packed with all the things you needed.

“He’s not here yet?” You frowned.

Eric shook his head with a worried look. “Usually he’s the early one.”

You hummed, standing next to him. And then you looked him over. He had dressed differently, his hair swept up nicely and his skin glowed golden in the sun. You wouldn't admit it but he did give off “dreamy beach boy” as corny as it may have sounded.

After a few minutes, you were about to call Juyeon to make sure he didn’t oversleep until you heard footsteps approaching. Looking up, you breathed out a sigh of relief.

“What took you so long?” You complained.

Juyeon furrowed his eyebrows and that was when you realized that he did not have a single piece of luggage with him.

“I can’t go,” He breathlessly responded.

Eric inhaled sharply. “What?”

“There’s been an emergency,” Juyeon whined. “Involving my cat.”

You pouted knowing very well that Juyeon absolutely adored his cat and would drop anything for the feline, including this trip that you’d all been planning years ago.

“But go without me,” Juyeon rushed to say. “I don’t want to hold you both back.”

The two of you silently stared at him, disappointment and guilt holding grim over your faces.

“Please.” His eyes softened. “Just make sure to send pictures.”

—

The car ride that was initially meant to be a karaoke session, turned into a quiet silence. It wasn’t awkward, no, it was never awkward between you and Eric. But it was solemn.

“He did say he’d be fine,” Eric spoke, flipping the right turn signal.

You sighed. “But you know him. He always likes to hide his disappointment.”

Eric shook his head. “He would be more disappointed if he knew we weren’t having fun.”

You thought for a moment. And then you nodded because it was true. You often observed that Juyeon would smile whenever you or Eric would smile first. He was like an older brother to you.

“Okay. Then I’m choosing the first song.” A devilish smile appeared on your lips as you queued up the music.

“Go ahead,” Eric laughed.

When you pressed play, he gasped. He glanced at you with acknowledgment accompanied by a slight wince. “Is this…”

“Mhm,” You giggled. “The song we sang together when we got drunk for the first time?”

“The headache I had after,” Eric groaned. “Never again.” You smiled at the fond memory.

“And you’re such a clingy drunk.”

“I was not.”

“You literally hugged me and kissed my cheek,” You deadpanned. “You even said—“

Eric had his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you into a warm back hug, so tight that you could feel his hips and chest pressed up against your back. He smelled faintly of cherry wine and from the corner of your eye, you could see his adorably flushed cheeks and the dazed look in his eyes. “Please, don’t ever leave,” He cried, snuggling his face into your neck. “You’re so special to me.”

But then again, that’s just what friends say, right?

Your best friend looked at you in confusion. Ah, he must have forgotten.

“What did I say?”

“Nothing,” You muttered. Choosing to change the topic, you turned up the volume. And soon enough, you were dancing and singing along to the song like you were on cloud nine. Eric chuckled to himself as he watched you with soft eyes, a small smile tugging on his lips.

You glared playfully. “Eyes on the road, sir.”

Eric rolled his eyes but obliged. For safety, of course. When the song ended, you sat back in your seat and you looked at him. Sometimes you forgot that Eric wasn’t a little boy who played hide and seek with you anymore. He was a man who had grown up to be… fairly attractive. His jawline was sharp now, he was taller, and he had muscles from his endless workouts that you would constantly walk in on him doing. You could see that from the way he had rolled up his sleeves to reveal his forearms, handling the steering wheel with one hand. Taking a gulp, you quickly looked away. What were you thinking?

“Eyes on me?” He lifted an eyebrow, glancing at you teasingly.

You cleared your throat. “No, I— You just look bad today.”

“Mhm,” He hummed smugly. “Sure.”

And for some reason, your cheeks felt unusually warm.

It was a long road trip so naturally, that meant that the evening would come. It was dark out now and the music was long turned off. At some point, you had fallen asleep, the sound of the car engine lulling you easily.

Whilst you were dreaming of a beach house lit naturally by the bright sun, Eric took a glimpse at you. He smiled to himself affectionately, staying quiet. But it faltered when he noticed you shiver from the cool night air.

Parking to the side for a moment, he reached back to pull out a blanket. Carefully and lovingly, he placed it over you, trying not to wake you up.

But, you always had the tendency to wake up whenever the car was stopped so you felt every single sensation with your eyes still closed. The warmth of his fingertips brushing against your arm, the rhythm of your quickening heartbeat, and… the press of a soft pair of lips on your forehead.

But maybe it was just a dream.

When Eric had started driving, before you dozed off again, you could hear him humming a song. A song that you recognized. A love song.

—

The house was ten times better than what it looked like in the pictures. The exterior of it looked like it came straight out of those real estate magazines. Palm trees decorated the scene and if you had simply turned around, you would be met with the breathtaking sight of the beach with its clear, almost sparkling ocean. Scrambling to explore the inside, you were surprised to see just how big it was. The ceiling was tall and the interior was embellished with various decorations.

“This is what we deserve after practicing good financial habits for all those years,” You marveled, opening all the doors to reveal gorgeous rooms that were bright simply from the sunlight outside. Just like you had dreamed about. Eric hummed, trailing behind you, taking in the house silently, as opposed to your constant awes.

Finally, the two of you ended up in the master bedroom.

Turning to him slowly, you put on your best puppy-like impression. “Can I have this one?”

Eric looked at you thoroughly unimpressed. “Is that the best you could do?”

You even pouted this time. He still stared back, completely unabashed. At a loss, you leaned in close, right up to his face. And for some reason, almost immediately, he was backing away with reddening cheeks.

“O-okay,” He stuttered. “Fine. You can have this one.”

Cheering, you flopped down on the bed, and with a sigh, you looked out the window dreamily. “If only my room was this neat all the time. It’s always messy.”

Eric huffed, lying down next to you. You turned your head to him and smiled softly at his serene expression as he looked up to the ceiling.

“You can always call me if you need someone to clean your room,” He mumbled. “I’m the neatest after all.”

“Ah…” You breathed. “You’re right. Last time when you–”

“Knock, knock.” You could hear Eric’s voice from outside your door. With a slight sniffle, you brought the covers over your face, curling up to yourself. Being hit with a sudden slump that left you unable to do anything except lie in bed defeated wasn’t entirely ideal.

Your room was an absolute mess and when Eric had called you, he immediately could tell from your voice that you were having a hard time. You heard the door opening and him entering the room. He stood there silently for a moment. But suddenly, you could hear various sounds. Trash being picked up, clothes being folded… peeking your head outside of your blankets, you realized that he was cleaning up for you.

With tears welling up in your eyes at his kind actions, you sniffled even louder. Eric instantly looked up at the sound and he was right by your side. He pulled you into a hug, whispering sweet, sweet words in your ear as his hand stroked the back of your head soothingly.

“It’s okay, you’re okay,” He had whispered, pulling away so that he could brush a strand of hair out of your face gently. Even caressing your cheek, he had let you fall asleep against his chest.

But that’s what friends do, right?

Clearing your throat, you sat up abruptly. Eric followed, staring at you with slight perplexion. Suddenly, you turned to him.

“I never got to say thank you,” You blurted out. “For taking care of me that one time. So… thank you.”

And you had feared he would question what you were talking about. But instead, he nodded with a small smile.

“Of course,” He chuckled casually. “I’ll always care for you, dummy.”

You smiled at that and then you lunged forward, pulling him into a hug. With your sheer force, he fell back on the bed. And just like that, it was the two of you, giggling and hugging each other, arms wrapped around warmly, in the midst of a beautiful beach house.

–

After unpacking and getting everything in order, you were so exhausted that you had fallen asleep almost immediately. But waking up in the morning was refreshing, with the bright sunshine pouring straight onto your face, warming you up perfectly. With a satisfied yawn and stretch, you walked out of your room, still dressed in your sleepwear.

But you paused abruptly when you saw Eric standing in the kitchen, apron tied around his waist and his sleeves rolled up again. He looked up and he smiled.

“Let’s cook together today.”

You gave him a pained smile and approached him. Before you could even say anything, he was leaning in to brush the messy strands of hair out of your face from just waking up. You’ve always noticed how gentle his hands were on you. When with Juyeon, he was rough and playful. But with you… he treated you like a piece of glass.

“We still suck though,” You complained.

“All the more reason to practice?” He gave you a quirked-up smile.

Late at night, Eric was sleeping over. But suddenly, he had sprung up, startling you from your dozing off.

“I’m hungry,” He grumbled. “Let’s cook something.”

And that was how you found yourself, half-asleep in the kitchen, figuring out how to make a simple dish from an old cookbook in one of your drawers. The two of you tried so hard, following each and every direction, only for it to taste like burnt pieces of garbage.

And so, Eric, with a sleepy, raspy voice, had to order takeout. You were silent until your eyes landed on the failed attempt once again. It looked like a blob of black, green, and somehow… pink. And soon enough, you were bent over the counter, laughing so hard over the monstrosity. You had expected Eric to join in on your laughing fit but instead, he had put down his phone and only stared at you fondly.

His eyes were sparkling as they met with yours and he had on the softest tug of his lips. Something in his expression made you stop laughing over how embarrassed you had gotten. Why was he looking at you like that? Almost like he…

But that’s just how friends look at each other, is it not?

“You look focused,” Eric remarked, brushing past you to flip the pancakes.

“Huh? Oh– yeah,” You breathed out. “I just… remembered something.”

“What’s up?”

And again, he looked at you like that. Eyes warm and gentle on yours, his smile small yet so, so fond. Your eyes trailed down to where his hand had reached forward, near your waist to steady you from bumping into the sharp corner of the counter. Your cheeks immediately warmed up as you abruptly turned around.

“N-nothing.”

–

After breakfast and getting ready, you headed out to the nearby outdoor market. It was a beautiful, yet bustling sight. People were in every corner, every stall, buying various things like seashell necklaces and cute jellyfish lamps. Your eyes were practically shimmering and you quickly grabbed hold of Eric’s wrist to pull him along.

At the first stall, a woman was selling beautiful leis. You gasped, picking one up and showing your best friend. He grinned and nodded expectantly.

“What’re you waiting for? Put it on,” He joked.

You laughed and shook your head. Instead, you stepped forward, looping the pink and purple flower garland around his neck. You could hear the small intake from his lips as he looked down at you, eyes wide. Maybe, you were a bit too close to him. But, you didn’t think much of it as you continued to adjust it and admire the colors that complimented him perfectly.

Well, up until a child had run past, bumping into you and causing you to fall straight into Eric’s arms.

“Oh, I–” You gulped, feeling a warm hand close around your waist, holding you steady.

“Sorry,” He muttered nervously, his cheeks flushing.

“It’s okay,” You whispered, peering up at him, still pressed against his body. He gazed back and his eyes began to slowly trail down to your… With a cough, you pulled away, refusing to look him in the eye. His hands were always gentle.

Again, you took his wrist to lead him somewhere else. But that was when you felt him pull away. For a second, you thought you might have lost him in the crowd, but he was still right behind you. Instead, his hand closed around yours, his fingers—rough from playing baseball in his free time—intertwining firmly around. You tried to ignore the quickening pace of your heart.

“So you don’t get lost,” He teased.

“You’re the one who gets lost the most,” You retorted, your voice slightly shaky.

At the next stall, there were plushies displayed for sale. Some were badly sewn, like the cat missing a buttoned eye. But some were particularly cute, especially the white bunny keychain, sitting on one of the shelves.

“Hey,” You mumbled, approaching it. Both ears were intact and upright. “This reminds me of…”

Clutching the bunny plushie with the price tag attached to its ear close to your chest, you looked at Eric with a pleading look.

“Please,” You complained. “Let me buy it. I promise I’ll pay you back tomorrow. Hm?”

Eric looked at you with narrowed eyes, switching his gaze from you to the plushie. And then he sighed, taking it from your hand. With hopeful eyes, you watched as he walked to the shelf and put it back. And just like that, all your dreams were crushed.

“C’mon.” He urged you away. “That’s dumb.”

“But you know my favorite animals are bunnies,” You whined. But still, you followed him out of the store.

About a week later, he showed up at your door. It was your birthday after all so when your eyes landed on the small present box in your hands, you smiled with delight. He tilted his head with a shy smile.

“Happy birthday,” He whispered, leaning in to pull you into a hug. “I know this isn’t great, but I tried my best.” He smiled at you sheepishly.

When you opened it, sitting inside was a small plushie. Of a bunny. It was so, so badly made, the stitches mangled and the ears practically falling off. But it was so… Eric.

“Is that why you didn’t let me buy the other one?” You questioned, clutching it close to your chest protectively.

He nodded with a completely serious expression. “I didn’t need unnecessary competition.”

And despite rolling your eyes at his comment, you found yourself carefully placing the plushie right at your bedside so it was the first thing you saw when you woke up.

And to this day, you still have it.

But that’s just what friends do… you think.

Eric had read your mind and quickly, he was grabbing your hand and pulling you away from the stall.

“My sewing skills could be better,” He said with an embarrassed look on his face. You laughed in response. Before you could even say anything else, he was reaching forward to clasp a necklace around your neck. He was so, so close that you could feel his breath across your lips and smell his scent which reminded you a lot like cotton candy.

“When did you get this?” You whispered, looking down at it. It was a small seashell shaped like a heart.

“Few minutes ago.” He smiled. “But you didn’t notice.”

“I love it.” You grinned. And just like that, you hadn’t reached for his wrist this time, but straight for his hand. With fingers intertwined, the two of you walked down the rest of the market, smiling and laughing all throughout the sunset.

–

Another day had passed and the two of you had mostly stayed inside the beach house, due to the cloudy weather ruining the mood. It was fun nonetheless, watching movies and even playing board games. Which, Eric won all three of them for some reason. You simply call it luck.

Now, laying in your bed, you felt yourself grow drowsy over the ambient noise of the rain pattering on the windows and the occasional rumble of thunder. Sometimes, there would be a flash of light outside–lightning, but you were much too tired to really care.

Just as your eyes were about to shut close, you heard a knock on the door.

“Eric?” You whispered, your voice croaky from sleep.

The door creaked open, and there he was, dressed in a comfy t-shirt. You recognized it. The one that he had once let you borrow because you had spilled coffee all over yourself. It was warm and… well, it smelled just like him.

“What happened?” You frowned, sitting up. He stepped closer and if you looked closely, you could see the tinge of red on his cheeks.

“...you know,” He muttered.

You did know.

Your phone rang, startling you out of your sleep. Despite your initial grumpiness, you picked up when you realized it was your best friend.

“Eric?”

A deep breath from the other line. And then–

“Can you come over?”

You looked at the time. It was two in the morning.

“Why?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m… scared of thunderstorms.” You could even hear his voice tremble. And just like that, you were out the door, umbrella in hand. But the rain was so heavy that it managed to seep into your clothes and hair anyway, leaving you drenched by the time you reached his door.

At the sound of the doorbell, Eric flung the door open. You couldn’t even get a word in because he was pulling you in and he was throwing his arms around you, scrambling to hold you close, his hands grasping onto your shirt tightly. You smiled softly as you hugged him back, even if you were getting his clothes wet too.

“I missed you,” He whispered, tightening his hold. “So much.”

You laughed softly. “I’m right here. You saw me yesterday already, didn’t you?”

“I–” He grumbled, pulling away. His lips were pulled into a tight frown as he searched your eyes with a deeper meaning behind them. “I always miss you.”

That’s not… how friends act, do they?

“Want to sleep here?” You patted the spot next to you, even bringing an extra pillow and adjusting the blankets.

“Gladly,” He grinned. “That’s why I came here in the first place.” In only a matter of seconds, he was climbing into bed with you. The two of you never… slept in the same bed together but it felt so natural with the way your arms wrapped around him and he had snuggled up to your chest.

This is definitely how friends act.

–

The next day was boring. You all had planned it to be the day where each one of you would go off and do whatever separately as a way to individually relax. But, you realized just how much Eric was a part of your life. Wandering the gardens, you found yourself thinking of his stupid puns and his even stupider smile. Truth be told, Eric was always with you. The two of you never went a week without seeing each other. Any much longer than that and Eric was clinging and hugging you for the whole day, saying he needed to “recharge.”

Finally, in the evening, you saw Eric again. He was wearing a comfy, zip-up jacket since the evenings tended to get chilly and his hair was adorably messy. Adorably? Since when did you think that?

“Want to sit with me?” He leaned against the doorway. “My room has a better view.” You nodded brightly and followed him.

You had never noticed just how beautiful the scenery actually was from his room. Your room mostly pointed towards the various palm trees. But his room, with its wide and tall window that overlooked the whole beach, was different. The two of you sat together on the bed, knees drawn up to your chests, as you observed the constant motion of the ocean water moving back and forth, creating bubbles with it. The night sky was dark, yet it sparkled with twinkling stars dotted across it.

When you looked over, you saw Eric, looking out the window too. The moonlight shone perfectly on his face, accentuating each of his handsome features. His kind eyes, the slope of his nose, his plush lips that shaped into a soft smile.

He was always handsome. You always knew that. But something about this moment, right now, left your eyes widening, cheeks flushing, and your heart pounding.

“What do you mean you lost the grocery list?” You whined. “Juyeon wanted this huge Christmas feast. I can’t bear to disappoint him.”

Eric grimaced. “I swear, my dog ate it.”

“You don’t even have a dog.”

The two of you continued to bicker, walking down the numerous aisles of the grocery store, trying to figure out the ingredients to make Juyeon’s favorite food until an elderly couple stopped you in your tracks.

“Aren’t you both an adorable couple?” The woman cooed.

Your jaw dropped and you turned to Eric, only to find that he didn’t share the same shocked expression. He was smiling almost… shyly, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Oh, just look at the way he looks at them,” The man pointed out before turning to his wife. “Just like I had looked at you all those years ago.”

The woman laughed bashfully, batting him away. Then, she turned back to Eric with kind eyes.

“You must love them a lot.” She said with a kind smile.

You were about to jump in and refute, explain everything was all a lie, that you both were just really good friends up until–

“I do,” Eric replied. He looked at you with that same look that he’d been looking at you for ages now. The softening gaze and slight tug of his lips… it was like you were the flame to his wooden match. “I truly do.”

That’s not how friends act.

You swallowed thickly, all words caught in your throat for a moment. That particular moment often flitted past your mind briefly because you thought that he was just playing along. But now that you think about it…

“Did you mean it?” You finally whispered.

He turned to you with a confused smile. “Mean what?”

“That you… love me.” You studied his face for an answer and you had hoped that you wouldn’t find one—that you wouldn’t see the absolutely smitten look on his face that would further complicate your friendship that’s already lasted decades. But you saw it. The smitten look, right there in front of you. It was there and it gave you all the answers that you needed.

He was quiet, watching you with a tender look in his eyes. And then he leaned to the side, bumping his shoulder with yours lightly.

“I meant it,” He replied, smiling to himself shyly. You gazed at him in shock. “But...” He turned to you, his smile faltering slightly. “However you want to interpret that is up to you.”

You bit your lip and tilted your head so that it was resting on his shoulder. It was odd but not that surprising how well it fits in the crook of his neck, almost as if you were always meant to be there. You didn’t say anything right away, instead, choosing to watch the waves roll, over and over. But everything reminded you of the man sitting right beside you. The bright stars in the sky were just like the mischievous twinkle that he would have in his eyes before he would tackle you into a hug and the crystal clear water that flowed in and out on the sand was just like the steady pounding of your heartbeat whenever you caught sight of his pretty smile.

“As friends or romantically?” You spoke, so quietly that Eric had to lean in even closer to hear you, his hair brushing against your forehead.

He hummed ambiguously. “Whatever you want.” But you could hear the slight tremor in his deep voice.

His words only further answered your question. No matter how hard he would try to make it so that it was all up to you, you could sense everything. The soft tone of his voice, his warm hand covering yours, and his calm breathing. You could sense his feelings. Each and every one of them, like his heart was beating directly through yours.

Slowly, the rustle of the palm trees and the natural sound of his slow breaths gently pulled you into a state of drowsiness. Shuffling so that your whole side was pressed up to his, you leaned closer, nuzzling your cheek into his warm shoulder. And gradually, your eyes closed, sleep overcoming you peacefully.

He smiled down at you, gently bringing you to lie down on the bed. He pulled the blankets over you, tucking you in snugly. And then he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, gazing at you with so much warmth.

“Romantically,” He whispered, brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “It’s always been romantically.”

–

You had woken up to a text from Juyeon. And yes, you have been sending pictures to him, mostly consisting of blurry selfies of you posing perfectly and Eric who wasn’t even looking at the camera, constantly distracted.

Stretching, you realized that you weren’t in your bed. You were in Eric’s bed. And just like that, all the memories came rushing back to you. Romantically or as friends? As friends or romantically? Whichever one was it?

Shaking your head, you opened the text.

Juyeon: did you do the last activity on the itinerary yet?

Juyeon: the beach party

And so there you were, dressed in one of your summer outfits, flowy and perfect for the weather. Eric was beside you, staring in awe at the scene. The two of you had never quite made it to the beach, being so preoccupied with other places to explore. But now that you were here, the sand soft under you and the sun setting in the background, you couldn’t help but smile dearly. You had waited excitedly for this moment really, as Juyeon had claimed that this was a surprise made by him and he had hired someone to set it up.

And set up it was. String lights and lanterns were scattered about, lighting up the scene. There were chairs set up, made to sit together and watch the calm ocean. And on the right, there was a speaker to play music.

“Well isn’t this pretty?” You mumbled, your mouth agape.

Eric smiled, turning to look right at you. “Very pretty.”

Wordlessly, he took your hand in his, leading you toward the lanterns. It wasn’t really a party anymore. You couldn’t help but think that this was actually a beach… a beach date.

You sat down in one of the chairs and you watched as Eric picked up his phone to put on music. Immediately, you recognized the song.

“You Better Know?” You laughed, remembering all the times you and Eric had belted out Red Velvet songs after failing an exam to cope with the feeling of failure. It never really worked but it was fun either way.

He shrugged with a charming smile. He began to dance slightly as he walked away to pick up seashells that were scattered across the beach. You watched silently, leaning forward as you let your eyes wander over your best friend.

Eric truly no longer was the messy boy who scribbled outside the lines on coloring books or the boy who repeatedly tripped on the playground causing his knees to get scraped. He no longer was the boy who experienced constant voice cracks or who struggled in exams because he had overslept with dark circles under his eyes.

Instead, he was a man with a deeper voice, broader shoulders, and a charming middle part in his hair as opposed to the disorderly, overgrown middle school hairstyle he always had. He was a man who had ditched the dark hoodies in his angsty teenager phase, instead opting for white, flowy button-up shirts that complimented his golden skin perfectly. He even reminded you of Prince Eric–ironically, enough–from The Little Mermaid.

Eric no longer was the boy that you simply were best friends with. He was a man who you have fallen in love with. And you had no idea for how long.

Standing up silently, you approached him. He looked up at you, giving you a soft smile, a beautiful white seashell in his hand.

“Here,” He said, taking your hand in his. He placed the shell in yours, gazing at you with so much affection that you felt a shudder all throughout your spine. “For you.”

You smiled, looking down at it. It was round, embellished with small ridges. It was perfect. The faint sound of the upbeat, song playing in the background as you looked up at him with sparkles in your eyes.

“Eric,” You started. “I have to tell you something.”

And for some reason, he had leaned forward, pressing a finger to your lips to shush you. You let out a muffled sound, gaping at him in bewilderment.

“Eric?”

“Let me speak first,” He whispered.

You inhaled sharply…

“Romantically.”

…held your breath…

“My answer is romantically.”

… and exhaled shakily, processing his confession, one word at a time. But before you could, Eric was saying more.

“For the longest time, I’ve had the biggest crush on you. Ever since I saw you back in elementary school. And mayhaps, I did mean that stupid ‘will you marry me?’ statement,” He chuckled. He reached forward taking your other hand in his, wrapping his fingers around. “Over time I… I tried to get over you. But, since you’re my best friend I couldn’t distance myself. So I accidentally fell in love.”

You felt your heart pound at his words, all of your memories rushing back in full force. It all had started to make sense. The acts of service when you weren’t feeling well, the soft looks when you were only laughing, the homemade gifts even though he claimed that he hated making things, and the… words. The specific word love.

“Eric, I…”

“Ah, wait,” He laughed. “This song.”

Red Flavor by Red Velvet. The classic, happy summer song.

And suddenly, he reached forward, pulling you in by the waist. “Can I sing for you?”

You snorted, your cheeks flushing once you registered the warmth of his large hand on the small of your back. “This song?”

“Mhm,” He hummed, grinning. “This song.”

And before you could retort, he actually started singing, Swaying you from left to right, his arms continuously wrapped around you, his deep voice resonated through the cozy summer night, igniting each and every star one by one. He sang the pre-chorus, gazing at you with affection and well, love.

"I like you, it was love at first sight. I keep thinking of you." His lips pulled up into a soft smile as he sang, his voice husky and a great contrast to the higher-pitched voices of the actual song. You were enamored, your heart beating right against his chest as you watched him silently, watching as he sang so, so, gently. Only for you and for you only. “I want to go my own way.”

And then the chorus started with its fun beat and cheerful singing. You giggled, placing your hands on his chest, leaning forward to hide in his neck.

“This song does not fit the moment right now,” You remarked, smiling against his skin. You could feel the vibration of his deep laugh as he held you closer, his hands stroking your sides gently.

“But at least it got the confession down. So, what’s your answer?”

You laughed, pulling away to look up at him lovingly. He smiled down at you, his eyes wandering over each of your features fondly.

“The very last line,” You replied. He had grown silent at that, listening to each of the lyrics, waiting for the end. And then–

What I like the most is you in the summer.

Eric widened his eyes and he looked down at you hopefully. “Really?”

You nodded, your cheeks flushing. “Not just like. Love.”

“Oh, wow,” He breathed out. And again, just like he had done all those other times, he brushed a piece of hair out of your face, his fingers brushing against your skin with sparks accompanying it. “God, I’m so in love,” He muttered. And just like that, the next song had started—Hear The Sea—playing softly in the background.

You laughed, “Did you just put on a whole Red Velvet playlist?”

“And what about it?” He grinned. “It’s summer.” And slowly, he pulled away, not before looping your hand in his. His hand rested on your waist, holding you close. To the calm singing and beautiful instrumental of the song, the two of you danced. Sometimes, either one of you would trip on the sand, causing an endeared laugh here and there. But mostly, the silence between you was filled with soft smiles and flushed cheeks.

Even though Eric no longer was the boy who ran around when it was summertime, he always would be the boy with the most beautiful smile.

His eyes were bright on yours, watching you closely as the two of you swayed slowly to the music.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this for?” He whispered.

You shook your head, feeling hot all over.

“So long,” He continued. “I’ve always longed to dance with you.”

You smiled. “And what else?”

“Hold you.”

You hummed. “You always loved doing that.”

But then his eyes darkened on you for a moment. “And… kiss you. Though I haven’t done that one yet.”

Your breath hitched, your dancing coming to a halt. “Then do it.”

He gazed at you softly. “Are you sure? There’s no rush.”

“Think for yourself.” You giggled. “How long exactly have you waited to kiss me?”

He paused, and both of his hands came down to grasp your waist this time. “Years. I’ve waited for years.” He looked at you shyly, his eyes adorably hopeful and loving.

“Then act.”

And so he did.

Almost aggravatingly slow–as if to make sure he really had your consent–he tilted his head and he softly placed his lips on yours. Shutting your eyes closed, you allowed yourself to get lost in the addictive feeling, the soft pull of your lips and the gentle grasping of your waist as he pulled you so close that your bodies were flush against each other.

It was like everything was drowned out. In your ears, you could no longer hear the crash of the waves on the shore. Instead, you could only make out the quiet, satisfied hum that escaped Eric’s parted lips. You couldn’t feel the summer breeze blowing against your skin, you could only feel the warmth of the palm of his hand as it came to cup your jaw, tipping your head slightly so he could kiss further.

It was a soft kiss, filled with sparks that would set off fireworks in the very pit of your stomach. Slow movements without fervor, as it was just Eric, kissing you like he must have been dreaming of doing all these years. The hand on your waist fit perfectly around you and so you couldn’t help but melt into his touch, stepping closer. Eric huffed out a quiet laugh as he blindly guided your hand to where his heart was where you could only feel it beat and beat and beat.

And with a tap against his chest, the two of you broke apart, lips red and slightly swollen. You stared at him in silence before bursting out into shy laughter, lunging forward to hide your face in his shoulder. Eric sighed softly, wrapping his arms around you once again, but this time with a different feeling. Love, maybe.

“Who knew that this trip would force me to confess?” He wondered to himself.

“Good.” You scowled. “You took too long.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “But look who finally figured out their feelings on this very trip?”

Your cheeks flushed and you playfully shoved him. “Stop it.”

“Say it.”

You frowned in confusion. “Say what?”

“You know what I mean,” He teased. “I want to hear you.”

You gulped and looked down at the sand. “That I… love you?”

“Mhm,” He hummed. “I love you too.”

And then he pulled something out of his pocket. When he unfolded it, he placed it in your hand which was still clutching onto the seashell. You looked down, only to realize that it was another red, paper heart. Written in neater, more legible handwriting this time, were the words,

“Will you date me?”

“Ah,” You breathed out. “So you finally get the words right.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is that a yes or no, my beautiful?”

“My,” You laughed. “If you use my, then that means I’m already yours.”

“You’ve always been mine.” His eyes sparkled.

“Then my answer is yes,” You whispered before smiling and leaning up to peck his lips once again. He was about to pull you into a full-fledged kiss but you giggled before running away, kicking behind flurries of sand. Eric groaned and he began to chase you down the shoreline.

“You can’t do that after you’ve just kissed me!” He complained.

“Too bad.” You stuck your tongue out. His frown turned into a fond smile as he laughed and ran after you.

You didn’t know exactly when, but the two of you somehow ended up in the water–clothes that weren’t meant for swimming, thoroughly soaked.

He looked at you with a loving smile as he waded over to you, his hair slightly damp from your splashing. Huffing out a fond laugh, he quickly trapped you into his embrace. And then he turned you, his back to the rest of the ocean so that you wouldn’t be hit by the waves. Smiling at you, he pulled you back in, his lips, wet from the water, pressing onto yours.

“You taste like the ocean.” You grinned after pulling away.

“And you taste delicious.”

“Oh my.” You gasped. “Why are you flirty now? I only know the clumsy, foolish Eric.”

“There’s much more to learn about me,” He whispered, grinning widely as he reached a hand out of the water to brush away a strand that had stuck to your forehead. “Just you wait. I’d even write a whole novel for you. And you know I failed literature class.”

You laughed, clearly remembering the defeated look on his face when he had checked his exam grade.

“I learned something already,” You quietly said. A particularly harsh wave almost shoved you both off your feet, but Eric was quick to steady you with his hands. Always so gentle and firm.

“And what’s that?”

“That you’re an excellent kisser.”

He laughed adorably before pressing a kiss to your lips again.

“And I knew something already,” He uttered. "For a while now."

“Hm?” A smile grew on your face.

“That I’m so–” A peck on your cheek. “So…” Another on the tip of your nose. “So in love with you.” And finally, a kiss on your lips.

The truth is, that neither of you cared if the ocean was trying its best to knock you both over. Your blooming love and soft, adoring smiles in between kisses were steady enough to hold you up.

Because that’s just how friends act. Or more specifically, how two best friends who fell in love with each other act.

–

You sent one thing to Juyeon on the last day of your trip. Attached, was a selfie of the two of you, kissing softly, the ocean and the moon in the background.

Juyeon immediately opened it. And then the bubbles of his texting appeared and disappeared, for over three minutes. When his message appeared, you laughed loudly at the one word that appeared on the screen.

Juyeon: finally

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