#I've been dying over it for the past five minutes

[nightdiary]

last night's story | jake

pairing: jake x female reader word count: 28.2k

synopsis: lured by the prospect of earning a couple extra bucks for the summer, you head north to man your aunt's surf shop on australia's sunshine coast. it's a visit that reacquaints you with everything you've been running from– old friends, abandoned memories, and one unforgettable jake sim.

genre: surfer!jake, childhood friends to exes to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, attempt at humor

warnings: surfing inaccuracies galore, reader almost drowns, smut (fem oral receiving, fingering, penetrative sex). MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! please let me know if i've missed anything.

Despite growing up a five-minute drive from the ocean, you’d never quite learned how to keep yourself afloat among the waves.

Looking back on it, you found it quite ironic considering how everything you loved somehow tied back to the ocean one way or another. Whether it was your vacant seaside town, the colorful dishes your aunt prepared for you as a kid, or the people you cherished most– all of it was somehow irrevocably intertwined with the water.

And yet you’d always felt an unexplainable dread when you found yourself a bit too deep in. Once past the shallow end, surrounded by erratic water and a depthless bottom, you found it hard to breathe. No matter how much you fought to stay above, there was always a tide under all the waves, seizing you by the throat and rendering you motionless.

Coming back to your hometown felt a little bit like that– diving headfirst into a swelling wave and fearing you’d never find your way back up.

The handle of the train window jams as you yank it downwards, letting out a harsh squeak when you attempt to pry it open once again. After struggling to tug it flush against the sill, you prop your elbows up on the glass and heave your upper body to lean out, careful not to lose your balance.

Outside, you’re met with the heady smell of brine and the sun’s dying rays. The rusted sign denoting your town’s outer limits flies by in a hazy whisk, followed by the first few houses and tiny streets. The sky is a brilliant blend of soft pinks and warm yellows, the horizons of which frame the buoyant ocean’s glistening ripples.

Australia’s Sunshine Coast has always been beautiful, but the prospect of returning so soon has your stomach in knots.

The loud squawk of a passing seagull startles you into ducking back into the passenger carriage. The stop coming up is yours, but you can’t bring yourself to gather your luggage. Getting off the train seems like an impossible feat when you’re practically glued to its walls, too afraid to face what may be waiting for you once you get off.

A sharp whistle resounds from the conductor’s carriage, and you hear the tracks below you screech as the train begins rolling to a steady stop. You duck back towards your aisle to tug your suitcases out from underneath the seat, palms numb as you grip their handles and wheel them towards the door. You know you can’t stay.

The world outside slows to a painful stop as the train reaches your town’s platform, and you hesitate before pushing the rotational gear to open your door. You’re able to momentarily forget about all your nerves as you struggle to haul your baggage off the carriage, too preoccupied with the fear of missing a step to look up.

Sunghoon’s waiting for you by the singular bench the shoddy platform has to offer, hands pocketed in his light-washed denim shorts. He squints at you through the last beams of the setting sun, lips pulled in an uncharacteristically fond grin. The golden light catches his face at an angle that makes him look like a ghost. He’s everything you remember and yet nothing you recognize.

“Well, well, well,” he tsks, but it isn’t unkind. Sunghoon crosses his arms and looks you over, cocking his eyebrow sassily. It almost makes you want to forego the initial jibing, but you surmise it wouldn’t be a proper reconciliation with Sunghoon without it. “Look at what the tide dragged in. Haven’t seen this species of blobfish before.”

“I missed you too, Hoonie,” you croon, abandoning your suitcase in favor of running forward and looping your arms around him. Sunghoon readily envelopes you in his hold, bringing you into his warmth with a teasing oof.

He’s soft and smells faintly of sunscreen, the generic kind you stopped buying once you moved away to Melbourne. He still holds you like you mean everything to him, and he’s still everything to you.

Pulling back, you study the grooves of his face where the sun dips into, frowning at the chiseled remains of Sunghoon’s younger self. He’s different and grown– his cheeks don’t carry the same youthful chubbiness and his eyes are sharper, nearly devoid of the juvenile spark you’d come to adore so much.

You’ve only been away for two years, and yet Sunghoon looks like a stranger.

The two of you haul your luggage into the back of his junky Toyota, flinging the trunk closed with a resolute bang and crowding into the vehicle to avoid staying out in the humidity for a second longer. The air conditioning system sputters to life after Sunghoon slams on the dashboard twice, and you sigh out of relief once you’re finally met with air that doesn’t feel suffocating.

Leaning back into your seat, you hiss when the heated leather meets the bare skin of your thighs, pouting as Sunghoon drives off from the train station.

“How was the trip in?” Sunghoon’s question is too customary, too formal, but it still distracts you from the lingering burn.

“Fine,” you answer. You pick at the stuffing that’s coming out of a rip in your seat, frowning. “There was a crying baby in my carriage and a weird stain on my seat that I hope was juice, but otherwise just fine.”

Sunghoon hums, peering at you out of the corner of his eyes. He pulls into another street and stops at a red light, tapping his fingers impatiently on the wheel and shifting in his seat. He clears his throat, uncharacteristically nervous, and finally turns his head to look at you fully, “You look different.”

“So do you!” You’re quick to fire back, feeling flustered. You gesture at him limply with your hand, unsure of how to tell him he looks nothing like what you remember. Attractive, clearly more confident in his skin, but different.

It makes you slightly queasy, the thought that in just a matter of a year or so, you’d lost track of the boy you’d called your best friend for so long. You blame it on the swaying from the train.

Your town’s small enough to cross through with a car in about 15 minutes, but it feels like you’re locked in Sunghoon’s Toyota for several hours. The burning leather under your legs doesn’t ease up, and at some point, the air conditioner stops working and starts bringing air in from outside, so it feels a little bit like hell.

As you round the corner and enter the street where your aunt’s shop is located, you feel your chest tighten with anticipation. The houses you pass are achingly familiar, with shades of blues, yellows, and reds nudging memories that you thought you’d left in the back of your mind. It feels like the neighborhood has been locked in time, put away and forgotten after you’d seen it for the last time two years ago.

But unlike Sunghoon, you find that the shop looks virtually the same as it did when you left. The relief you feel is quickly replaced with guilt.

Parking his car in front of the sidewalk, Sunghoon pops the trunk and the two of you get to action immediately. You heave out what bags you can carry, wanting to minimize your trips to the car, and waddle after Sunghoon as he goes to unlock the front door. In the window of the shop, you spot a note with Sunghoon’s loopy writing spelling out Closed, I’ll be back later!.

Entering the shop feels weird, but not in the way that you’d anticipated that it would. You’re hit with a sudden wave of nostalgia as you look around, taking in the interior of the place with a racing heart. Minus the cheap paint job in an effort to reverse the sun bleaching along the walls, you can find traces of yourself still left behind in almost everything.

By the crown of your foot, there’s a splotchy stain you’d left on the welcome mat after attempting to balance your friends’ coffee orders, too distracted to consider the fact that the cups were hot as shit. Next to you, there are markings along the door frame where your aunt had kept track of your height throughout the years, notched into the wood for you to remember till eternity.

As you step further into the shop, you spot drawings and paintings you’d done as a kid on the wall behind the register, hung up with colorful push pins. Above them, up on the shelves, there’s a potted plant you’d gifted your aunt for one of her birthdays, now much larger and with more leaves than when you had parted with it.

“Auntie kept a lot of your stuff,” Sunghoon voices your thoughts, grinning when you look up at him with wide eyes. “Most of it’s upstairs in the guest room. You’re cool with staying there, right?”

Nodding, you set your duffle bag down with a huff, rolling your neck. The prospect of going up any stairs at the moment seemed almost painful to you, but the thought of falling into bed and resting your head on something soft (and not the dingy window of a train) was too tempting to ignore.

It takes three trips in total to move all of your belongings from the car to the room you’ll be staying in, but Sunghoon doesn’t complain even once as he strains under the weight of your luggage. You gather all of your bags in an empty corner of the room, drawing up a chair to tug open the small window higher up on your wall. Outside, the sky has darkened to a deep purple, and the first stars are beginning to appear in scattered formations.

Collapsing on the bed, you shuffle around until your head hits a pillow, sighing as you sink into the soft material.

“There’s dinner in the kitchen,” he muses, “I bought it before I went to pick you up so it won’t be warm, but you should still probably eat before going to bed.”

“I should,” you sigh, heaving yourself up and blinking blearily at Sunghoon. He leans patiently against the doorframe and stares back at you, sticking his tongue out when your sleepy mind begins drifting off again. You startle, suddenly remembering, “Shit, wait. Hoon, where are you going to sleep?”

“The couch in the living room folds out, and it’s surprisingly comfy. Don’t worry,” he promises, flicking the light switch off and cackling when you squeak in surprise. “That fried chicken isn’t going to get any warmer, by the way.”

“You got me fried chicken?” You mumble as you get up, trudging after Sunghoon into the well-lit kitchen. Indeed, you find a bucket of fried chicken sitting on the counter, covered with a plastic bag in a vain attempt to keep it warm. “Fuck, I love you Hoonie. I’m so glad I came back.”

Sunghoon laughs as you pluck a drumstick off of the top and bite into it like a vulture. He leans onto the counter and continues to watch you eat, a slow grin spreading on his lips.

“Yea? I’m glad, too.”

☀

The decision to move away was one you’d been planning since high school.

Despite containing so many places and people that you loved, you’d always thought that there was something bleak, almost draining about your town. It felt like it was slowly bleeding you out from the inside, and the choice between here and elsewhere was one that was inevitable for you to make.

Jake had always called you crazy when you brought it up, but you knew he’d never get it. His whole life was set up here. Meanwhile, you knew your existence here was only fleeting. A momentary thing, never meant to stay for long.

The logistics of it were simple enough to your sixteen-year-old self; you’d work hard to finish school with high marks, get into a university in Sydney or Melbourne on a scholarship, and leave your town for good.

But the year after you graduated high school was stagnant. You picked up a job at a seaside restaurant and focused on saving up money to afford university and move to an apartment in a bigger city. The work’s long and tiring enough to numb you for a while, but it’s unavoidable that you get sucked up in everything you didn’t manage to leave behind.

Jake’s there too, because he’s always been in every single part of your life and you can’t run from him no matter how hard you try. Freshly-single, nineteen-year-old Jake had committed himself to ensuring that you stuck around for as long as possible, even if that meant inadvertently clipping your wings by telling you he loves you.

You don’t mind it at first. It’s hard to find a problem when the boy you’ve wanted since middle school admits that your feelings are reciprocated. It’s hard to think about moving away when you’ve yearned for so long, when Jake is finally in the palm of your hand and not off with somebody else. You’d forgotten to factor him into your delicate future, forgotten that him loving you back was an option.

It’s enough for a while– even if your job is shit and every day feels like a monotonous cycle of nothing, your head’s in the clouds when you’re with Jake. You feel yourself most when you’re with him, even if you’ve begun to forget who you are without him.

Moving away is at the forefront of your mind until it suddenly isn’t– there’s something keeping you tethered down and you can’t ignore it no matter how much you love Jake.

“I don’t think I can stay here any longer,” you tell him. “I’m not meant to stay here forever, Jake. It’s not fair.”

Jake had looked at you with a tired smile, almost like he knew you two didn’t have much time left. When the light caught his eyes at the right angle, you could see that they were glossy with regret. “I know. But it’s not fair to me to uproot everything I have here. I won’t be anyone if I leave.”

And in a way, you understood. While this place was nothing to you, it was all that Jake had.

That night, you rushed home to pack everything you could fit into a suitcase and backpack. For better or worse, Jake didn’t answer when you picked up, so you left him one last token of yourself in the form of a voice mail. The final decision to move away was made on a whim, finalized with a one-way train ticket you’d bought in the late hours of the night, and you hadn’t looked back on it. Until now.

A week before you were set to finish off your university term, Sunghoon’s name had shown up on your phone at a time far too late in the evening for you to ignore. After months of radio silence, you’d been startled into picking up and stuttering your way through a greeting. You’d barely recognized his voice over the phone at that time.

He’d called with a proposition so stunning you could barely gather your thoughts before responding with a shaky yes. Your aunt had to leave her surf shop behind to get treatment, and desperately needed someone to cover while she was gone. Sunghoon had told you that he couldn’t possibly do it by himself, and he’d called the only person he knew would care so much to arrive on such a late notice.

The decision to come back was not one you’d planned for either. You’d left with the intention of staying in Melbourne until you graduated from university, and foresaw nothing that could bring you back this early. Followed by another ticket bought at an hour so late the sky outside was beginning to pinken, you ended off your last exam and left for home on the same day.

The parallels between the situations were cruel in the way that it felt like you could never really leave– something would always bring you back, no matter how much you ran from it.

The shop is drowning in the morning light when you make it to the bottom of the stairs. It’s too early for you to be up, that much is evident in the way your feet drag behind you, but you cannot afford to flake out your first day on the job. And it seems like your boss is already waiting for you.

“Mango!” You squeal, suddenly all too awake as you run to approach the counter. Your aunt and Sunghoon hadn’t mentioned anything about her cat staying behind as well.

The chubby orange cat blinks back at you unfazed, fluffy tail swishing noncommittally over the cash register. When you reach out to pet the beloved baby, he rolls over on his back and chirps while you coo over him like you’ve personally carried him for 9 months and then birthed him.

You begin setting up to open the shop for the day after you fill Mango’s bowl up and sneak in a few more chin rubs. Though you were no stranger to how your aunt ran things, you found yourself retracing your steps and looking around blankly more than once as you went through the ministrations. You felt like a ghost hovering, revisiting opaque memories and relearning how to navigate what you’d once called familiar.

Your stomach’s in knots over the prospect of having to face people you know again. Last night was different– you’d been locked away safely with Sunghoon upstairs, away from peering eyes and curious mouths. This was about to change as soon as you opened the shop.

You manage to get the doors open with only a two minute delay. No one actually enters the shop until an hour later, when you’ve cozied up behind the counter and taken to eating your breakfast. At that point, you’d shaken away some of the nerves you’d woken up with and are able to welcome the customer with a soft smile that doesn’t feel forced.

Sunghoon comes down to check on you sometime later, still in his pajamas and sporting a surprised look on his face.

“Wow, I’m genuinely shocked you haven’t destroyed the place by now,” he comments slyly, taking a loud sip from his coffee mug.

“I’m more shocked that you’ve managed to keep this place open for so long by yourself,” you bite back. When you hear the front bell chime, you immediately straighten up and call out a friendly greeting to the customer, ignoring the way Sunghoon laughs at your switch up.

He saunters over to join you behind the counter, pretending to busy himself with fixing things on the shelf while the customer pays. Once you’ve bid them goodbye and closed the register, Sunghoon rounds on you and crosses his arms, shaking his head gravely.

“You forgot to give her the receipt that the card machine printed, fucked up big time now. I should fire you.”

“If you came down here to micromanage me, I suggest you go back to sleep,” you huff, reaching out to crumple up the forgotten receipt.

Sunghoon’s face visibly softens. “Hey, you know I’m just messing around, right? I’ve forgotten receipts countless of times before.”

Humming, you begin to clear off the counter and wipe down the surface.

“Are you mad at me?” Sunghoon asks carefully, lingering next to you. “I’m sorry. We used to make jokes like this all the time back in the day, I assumed you’d still be okay with it.”

This makes you frown guiltily. Your hands pause and you turn around to look at Sunghoon fully. “I’m not mad, just a bit on edge at the moment. I’ve been a bit stressed out about this whole thing all week, and it feels like I’m going to explode if something else goes wrong. I guess all this anxiety’s been making simple shit slip my mind.”

Sunghoon nods quietly as if to urge you to continue.

“Everything is so familiar and yet it’s all so strange and I feel like I’ve forgotten everything,” you whisper, voice cracking at the end. “I miss my aunt, I miss my apartment, I miss Melbourne. I feel so silly for not coming back earlier, but I know I wasn’t ready. And I don’t even know if I am now.”

There’s a weight on your chest that’s suffocating you and making the words stick to your tongue like tar. Sunghoon’s eyes are gentle as they look into your own, understanding and patient, and you feel the guilt consume you from the inside.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon. I’m scared to see Jake again. To go outside and see everything that reminds me of him. I’m scared that I’ll have to live with this fear always, that I won’t know peace where I’m supposed to feel at home.”

You don’t realize you’ve teared up until Sunghoon quietly hands you a tissue. You wipe your eyes and laugh shakily at the incredulity of it all– you’d cried enough before leaving Melbourne, convinced you’d forget all about your worries once you were actually here. You were far from right.

Sunghoon’s warm arms wrap around you and your mind blanks for a second. He squeezes you tightly and holds you for a while, until you feel your breathing begin to even out again. Quietly, you thank him and relax in his embrace.

After promising Sunghoon you’d be fine with finishing your shift, you go back to cleaning out the counter. You only have half an hour left, but you’re determined to see it through to the end. There’s a box of inventory that needs to be unpacked anyway, and you’d rather not sit around at the register and think for a minute longer.

Once your shift’s over, you trudge up to your room and immediately slump onto your bed. It’s got a loose spring somewhere that’s poking into your thigh, but at the moment, it’s the most comfortable surface you’ve ever laid down on. You could care less when a nap is overdue.

Mango seems to have different plans, however, as he saunters into your room and meows loudly. You don’t bother to look up until he’s resorted to jumping onto your bed, incessant meowing now right under your ear. You really should’ve closed the door.

Blearily blinking your eyes open, you see that Mango has situated himself next to your bedside drawer and is preparing to jump onto the very limited surface there. Yelping, you sit up and carefully move him back onto the ground, where he can do less damage and knock over less of your belongings. He makes an angry huff, but you ignore him in favor of checking to make sure everything on the drawer’s fine.

There’s a cup that you most definitely hadn’t left. Squinting and peering inside, you find that it’s filled with tea, made from the spearmint packets your aunt used when you weren’t feeling your best. There’s still steam coming out from the top, which means Sunghoon must have made it for you right before coming down for his shift.

You can’t stop the giddy smile that stretches across your lips while you pick up the mug. As you take tiny sips, your stomach begins to warm, and the feeling slowly spreads to the ends of your being. The feeling in your chest unfurls the tiniest bit, and you surmise that despite it all, you’ll be just fine.

☀

Working at the shop is monotonous for a while. You and Sunghoon take turns swapping shifts so that you don’t have to be up with the sun every morning, but you still keep each other company for the later ends of your hours. It’s nice to have someone there with you to fill the gaps in between the customers, someone to whine to about the guy who came in reeking of wet dog and the kid that left sand all over the floor.

Catching up with Sunghoon is simultaneously weird and the highlight of your day. You’d practically grown up with him, and yet you now knew close to nothing about him. His irregular Instagram updates were nothing to lead off on, but you surmise your own lack of social media presence must’ve frustrated him right back.

Sunghoon is more than eager to share stories from the gap in his life for which you’d been gone. You’re able to piece together who he is now with relative ease, even if you’re bridging unfamiliarities in areas you’d thought he’d never change. He’s no longer the awkward, floundering boy you knew for so long. He’s sure in himself and his actions, he’s deliberate with his thinking and purposeful with everything he tells you.

Sunghoon shares with you that he’s almost finished with his kinesiology degree and that he’s been visiting the local hospital more and more often to shadow doctors. He still wants to do medicine, just like he’d told you in high school, but he wants to focus more on sports medicine and hopefully work in therapy. He also proudly tells you that he’d recently gotten his driver’s license, despite refusing to touch a car when you were both finally old enough to drive, to which you snort and tease him with yeah, who passed ya?. 

He’s still your Sunghoon, even if he’s blossomed differently from the Sunghoon you grew up with.

Aside from him, you have Mango to keep you company. The cat barely pays you any attention as usual, instead choosing to nap in places he shouldn’t be and ignoring you when you call him for pets. But you know that behind that tough exterior, Mango loves you so.

To say you’re lonely would be untrue. Every now and then, a customer will chat you up while you’re at the register. They’re curious at seeing an unfamiliar face and you can’t blame them, but it’s sweet all the while. You get a few recognizable faces in between as well, people you went to high school mixed in with older family friends who coo at you and instinctively reach out to pinch your cheek.

It’s Jake’s face that you least expect to see in your shop. You think it’s inevitable that you’d eventually run into him, but it doesn’t surprise you any less.

You were manning the register just half an hour after swapping with Sunghoon when the bell above the door whistles familiarly. You call out a friendly greeting and look up, only to choke on the last syllable. Just from his side profile you immediately recognize him– the grooves of his face are achingly familiar and the sweet tone of his nonchalant good afternoon back is like a punch to the gut.

You know he’s likely unaware that you’re back at all, let alone working here now, but it feels oddly motivated from the universe’s side. Your stomach swoops as you watch him disappear one of the back aisles, and you have a minute to pace your breathing again before he reappears and begins approaching the register.

Your blood runs cold once he finally looks up and notices you. You think your heart’s going to beat out of your chest and fall onto the tile floor when he stops in his tracks and stares back at you like a deer caught in headlights.

“Oh,” he says surprised, mouth hanging open around the syllable. “Um, hi.”

Your lips twitch but you’re unable to utter a greeting back. Jake approaches the counter like one would a wounded animal, and you hate the way your legs jerk with the want to step back. You think you hear him say something more, but it’s masked by an echoey ringing in your ears.

“Hi,” you croak, mindlessly reaching out to what he’s placed on the counter. Your palms are sweaty and so, so cold and you can’t even feel your fingertips where they’re wrapped around the sharp edges of the box.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Jake says, but it barely registers in your mind. Despite the gaping feeling in your stomach, you laugh at the formality, some color returning to your cheeks. Jake visibly relaxes at this.

“Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting to run into you right now.” Or ever, but you think it’s best left unsaid.

Jake shrugs. His eyes roam over your face curiously and you try not to curl in on yourself. “How long have you been back?”

“Just over a week now.”

He hums, gaze settling on the way your hands fidget with the item until the scanner finally picks up on its barcode. You hurriedly place it back onto the counter and slide it toward him.

“I really do mean it, you know.”

Starting, you blink up at him unassumingly. “Sorry?”

“That I’m glad to see you again,” Jake clarifies.

“What’s all this for anyway?” You’re quick to ask instead, words bubbling out of you like a stream. Your heart’s racing pathetically and you’re embarrassingly hung up on the fact that Jake cares.

Jake doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the change in topic. “I needed a new fin set for my board. I’ve got a few competitions coming up and figured I’d polish things up a bit.”

Right. It was no surprise to you that Jake never abandoned his love for surfing, unlike everything else.

“You should come watch me at the state qualifiers next week,” Jake continues while leaning over the counter, propping himself up on his elbows and fixing you with an impish look. You want to reach out and shove his forehead with your fingers, but you have to remind yourself that this isn’t the same Jake you’d grown up with. Whatever you’d once had was forgotten in the past.

“Sure,” you say, ignoring the nagging warmth in your chest. Feigning nonchalance, you busy yourself with tapping on the checkout screen of the iPad, if only to give your hands something to do other than to fidget with your shirt. “Me and how many other chicks?”

Jake laughs good-naturedly, but the momentary lapse of insecurity in his voice isn’t lost on you. You feel guilty for just a moment, but don’t allow yourself to dwell on it. After finalizing his order on the screen, you look up to find Jake already looking back at you, almost expectantly.

“Your total’s $270.59.”

Jake’s face falters the slightest bit, but you don’t think it’s because of the ridiculously high price. “Does that factor in the ‘good friend discount’?”

The phrase makes something sour flood in your mouth, and you resist the urge to scowl. The receipt machine prints out his total, and you rip the paper out with more force than admitted necessarily. You nearly slam it down on the counter in front of Jake, peering up at his shocked face through your lashes. “Yea? What’s my favorite color, Jake?”

Noticeably taken aback, Jake’s confident demeanor slips away as easily as a receding wave. He stutters around his next sentence, and you try not to let your satisfaction show as you open the register. Jake looks down as he counts through the bills in his wallet, pulling out several and passing them timidly across the surface. “Uh–, well, hmm. Something… blue? Wasn’t it blue?”

“I hate blue,” you spit the lie out a bit too quickly, and hope Jake can’t see right through you. You accept the bills you’re handed with pursed lips, slipping them into your register and handing back the few cents you owe him.

“You don’t,” Jake answers immediately, not bothering to reach out and pocket the change. “You love blue. Specifically that light seafoam shade you see on the shore. Said it reminded you of summer.”

Despite how much you want to disagree, your throat feels all dry and your eyes are stinging and you don’t think you can bear to look at Jake much longer without saying something regretful. But something about letting him think he still knows you makes your fists clench and gut boil.

“People change,” you say with an air of finality. “I changed. You changed.”

Jake takes his bag and steps back from the counter with the expression of a kicked puppy. He looks back at you like he wants to say something, something long left untouched, and you resist the urge to hide behind your counter and cover your ears with your hands.

You feel naked and vulnerable– like Jake has carefully stripped away every last layer of your defenses and he can see the rotting remains of everything you didn’t say. You hate how he looks at you, like he knows exactly what’s going through your mind and the inner monologue you’ve been fighting since you first met him. Like he still knows you in and out, despite moving away and changing every last bit of yourself that reminded you of him.

“Thanks for shopping with us,” the smile you give him is painfully artificial, and you shut the register with a bang that echoes around the shop. “Have a good day, Jake.”

☀

Besides taking a trip up the coastline, there were only a handful of other things one could do in town to stay busy. You relied on the usual small-town things that somehow never got boring; going to the drive-in theater, drinking milkshakes until your jaw and stomach ached, and driving endless loops around the town.

Problem was, most of these only worked with other people. Your few options decreased even further during the summertime, when leaving an air-conditioned space was essentially a self-inflicted death sentence. Alone or not.

Living in such a small town also meant that out of the three or so choices you had, you were guaranteed to run into someone you knew wherever you went. It was one of the reasons you were so eager to leave, to finally go live in the big city where shops didn’t close at 5 and where you could go for a walk without seeing a familiar face you had to avoid.

And whether or not you dared to admit it, you were afraid of running into someone while out on your own.

You’d nearly forgotten about that aspect when coming back, only to be cruelly reminded on your first designated day off.

“What do you mean I’m not working today?” You cross your arms, frowning at Sunghoon’s figure behind the counter. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“You and I both know there’s like, only two possible answers to that,” Sunghoon sniffs, not bothering to look up at you from his phone. “And I don’t think you’d be interested in either of them.”

While true, you also didn’t want to give up that easily. “Shoot.”

Shrugging, Sunghoon finally divulges you with his attention, rubbing at his brow bone contemplatively. “Auntie Lee’s diner got a new arcade machine. Plus you never got to try that cookie dough shake she introduced after you left.”

“Cute, but I feel stupid going by myself,” you sigh. Heaving yourself up on the counter, you ignore Sunghoon’s noise of complaint and prompt him to keep going.

“Go see a movie or something?”

“All the new releases look like shit.”

“Get some coffee?”

“If I have another cup I’ll start vibrating.”

“Yard sales?”

“No, it’s hot as balls out.”

Sunghoon pauses, and you nearly think this is it, you’ve finally gotten on his nerves, but he taps his chin and hums, almost like he’s genuinely as invested in this as you are. And then he looks up at you with something malicious in his eyes, and you know you made a mistake coming to him.

“Jake’s place has a pool,” Sunghoon drawls knowingly, “but I’m sure you already knew that.”

Hopping off the counter, you ignore his cackling in favor of flipping him off. “Go fuck yourself, Hoon.”

The rest of your afternoon is spent very excitingly: you rot around in bed for a few extra hours, switching between three apps until refreshing your timeline no longer produces any dopamine. You get up only once Mango saunters into your room and begins incessantly meowing, a clear demand and order for you to feed him. 

Whilst in the kitchen, you decide to have lunch as well and reheat some leftovers for yourself. As the microwave drones on in the background, you fill out a postcard for your aunt to remind her you’re thinking of her and scavenge the drawers for stamps.

Unsurprisingly, you find your phone nearly dead when you come back, so, driven by a sudden burst of Marie Kondo-like motivation, you forgo charging it in favor of attempting to rearrange the entire layout of your room. It only ends up looking even more like a prison cell, except now you’ve precariously stuck up a bunch of wall decor that you unearthed in the clean-up process. A pretty prison cell.

There’s a band poster above your bed of four dudes you don’t recognize, along with fashion and music magazine cutouts from the 90’s. Your aunt had kept a surprising amount of the drawings little 5-year-old you had ceremoniously gifted her, and you try your best to arrange them in a way that complements the other shit you’d stuck up. Obviously, it doesn’t work out quite well.

Sunghoon finds you laying down, though this time it’s on the floor and not your bed. You hear him sigh obnoxiously loudly, followed by his phone’s camera shutter going off, and then a delayed but very pronounced Sunghoon-y laugh. The floorboards creak as he steps closer, pausing right next to your head.

“I’m going out with some friends,” he announces, prodding your shoulder with his foot. “I’m extending the invitation to you ‘cause I don’t want to have to drag your corpse out of here later.”

You sit up way too fast and your neck flares up in pain, but you ignore it in favor of batting your eyes up at him. “Where are we going?”

“Get dressed, Jay’s going to be here in ten,” Sunghoon sing-songs, not paying mind to the customary middle finger you flash him. “Something you can get wet in, preferably.”

There’s a dirty joke missing somewhere, but you forgo it in favor of jumping up and tugging off your ratty gym shorts.

Making yourself look presentable in ten minutes is a feat, but you manage to tidy up well enough that Sunghoon gives you a thumbs up when you join him in the shop upstairs. Despite the fact that you’re wearing shorts and a tank, it’s hot enough that you have to fan yourself aggressively as you wait for Sunghoon to finish packing his tote bag. He himself is donning a very similar attire– another pair of jean shorts and a loose, tucked-in shirt with a palm tree stitched onto the front.

The two of you are locking up the front door when a car honks loudly from behind you, startling you into dropping the keys by your feet. You grumble as you reach down to pick them up, ignoring Sunghoon’s bellowing greeting back.

As you approach the vehicle, the windows on your side roll down in tandem, and two familiar heads poke out like meerkats to gape at you.

“Holy shit, since when are you back in town?” Heeseung is the first to speak, leaning through the window and breaking off into a wince when he slams the top of his head against the window trim.

You have to hide your laughter behind your hand as Heeseung rubs at his scalp and Beomgyu chastises him for being stupid. They get over it pretty quickly though, and turn back to stare at you like meerkats. 

“Hey to you too,” you flush under the sudden attention, hugging your bag to your front. “I came in last week.”

Sunghoon must notice your discomfort, because he tugs you toward the other side of the car, opening the door for you and covering the top rim with his hand lest you suffer the same fate as Heeseung. Thanking him, you duck inside, scooting in next to Beomgyu and giving him what you hope comes off as a warm smile and not an anxious waver. 

Sunghoon climbs in after you, shutting the door and settling back in his seat with a groan. He reaches behind his back to pull out a fast food wrapper, chucking it at the back of the driver’s seat with enough force to send it bouncing back in his own lap. “Jesus fuck, when’s the last time you cleaned up around here, Jay?”

“I would’ve cleaned up had I known we’d have company,” Jay mumbles sheepishly. He drives off from the store, rounding the corner and setting you off on what you faintly remember as being the way toward one of the main beaches.

“It’s really nice to see you again,” Beomgyu interjects brightly, nudging your shoulder gently with his own. Wordlessly, you lean back into his warmth, letting your shoulders sit flush against each other. You think he gets the message.

“Why didn’t you let us know you were coming back?” Heeseung turns around to pout at you from the front. “We would’ve thrown you a welcome party or something. We missed you.”

Hesitating, you shrink under his unblinking gazes. You hadn’t given it much thought, let alone considered that you’d be missed. “Uh, wanted it to be a surprise?”

“We all know you guys would’ve been annoying as fuck about it,” Jay chimes in, “If I were her, I wouldn’t have told you either.”

“The difference is that we wouldn’t miss you,” Sunghoon chucks another wrapper at Jay, snorting when this one ends up hitting him square on the head.

Despite the growing havoc, you find yourself grinning, laughing along when Jay sends a horribly misaimed empty paper cup flying back. You allow yourself to lean back into the seat and relax, just like you used to do before you left. It’s easy to forget how on edge you were feeling earlier when you’re surrounded by people you’d missed.

You’d left many things behind, but it seems like your fondness for your friends never stopped following you.

Jay brings the car to a stop in an empty parking lot bordering one of the several beachfronts in your town. You remember this particular one being further south, where the waves grew taller and where many smaller-scale competitions were held.

Wriggling out of the vehicle after Beomgyu, you make yourself useful by popping the trunk and retrieving the straw mat that you knew Jay kept around for such visits. It’s now tattered and bears several holes in it after being thoroughly used, but you can’t imagine sitting on the burning sand with nothing underneath you.

Heeseung skips over to help you, hauling a case of beer out from the trunk and balancing it precariously over his shoulder. It’s then that you conveniently take notice of what he’s wearing– a band shirt-turned-tanktop with very revealing armholes– and nearly choke on your spit. Pretending to be unbothered, you train your gaze on the tips of your shoes, trying to focus on the way your toes wriggle, but fail miserably. Heeseung looks too good.

“We get it, you started hitting the gym,” you tease, trying not to openly gape at the way his arms fill out his sleeves.

It seems you’ve made it a bit too obvious, because Heeseung practically preens under your attention, grinning cockily and flexing the bicep nearest you. “Yeah? Just wait till I get in the water. There’s more where that came from.”

The comment combined with the rolling humidity makes you feel like you’re about to pass out, so you sneak one last glance at Heeseung’s arms before scurrying away. You choose to set up camp under the shade of a leaning palm tree, somewhat close to the shore but far enough so that the crashing waves don’t dip into the sand nearby.

As soon as the mat’s down, you flop onto it, spreading your arms and legs like a starfish before someone else can take up the space. Despite your efforts, Beomgyu easily crams into the space next to you, humming a melody under his breath while he unpacks the snacks he’d brought. He offers you a bag of gummies, so you don’t bother complaining.

The rest of the boys join you soon after, hissing once the hot sand begins to burn at their soles.

“Fuck this, I’m going in to cool down,” Jay announces, halfway through tugging his shirt off. “Someone text Sunoo and tell him to bring his speaker. And that inflatable Spongebob ball we found the other day.”

As Jay bounces down the remaining distance to the ocean, you tuck your knees under your chin and watch as a flock of seagulls crosses over the melting sun on the horizon. Despite being later in the afternoon, the air still felt heavy and sticky like caramel, practically oozing down your skin in trickles of molten sweat. You try to fan yourself with your hands, but it’s no use when each new gust of air just felt like you were being submerged further and further into a pot of boiling water.

Sunghoon heaves down next to you and Beomgyu, cracking open one of the beer cans from the case. He takes three, four, five long gulps, sighing at the relief from the cold liquid. When he notices you staring, he holds the can out in a silent offering, but you shake your head and point toward his mouth, where some of the beer had trickled out in his haste to gulp it down.

“Aren’t the waves too small for surfing?” Beomgyu asks.

Looking back at him, you find that Beomgyu’s frowning in the direction of the ocean, where a figure is trying to balance on a board under the lip of a crashing wave. Though you yourself never quite took on a surfboard by yourself, you knew that there were certain tricks one could only perform with taller waves, ones which were certainly not found on this beach during this time of year.

It was typically beginners who practiced on such small peaks, but from observing the surfer for a while longer, you could easily deduce that this most certainly wasn’t a beginner. Though they were having trouble because of the lower crest, their maneuvers were carefully executed and dynamic enough to be on a professional level, and even as the wave dipped, they didn’t lose their balance.

“Sunoo!” Your attention’s pulled back by Heeseung’s excited bellow, and you turn to find another familiar face approaching your mat.

“Are you for real?” Sunoo’s question is directed at you, judging by the way his wide eyes meet yours, and you shuffle around so you can hold your arms out for him. He readily launches himself into your embrace, albeit a bit awkwardly because he has to lean down, but it’s warm and inviting nonetheless.

The five of you pack yourselves onto the mat as you wait out the sun to dip further down the horizon. Sunoo asks you about your life back in Melbourne, and you’re more than happy to answer. In turn, you ask him about his job, about that motorbike he’d always wanted, and about the last boy you remember him having a crush on. Judging by his reaction, not everything had gone according to plan.

It’s nice to just hang around like that, too– even as you can’t help but think about someone missing. By the time your stomach’s all twisted up, Heeseung and Sunoo eventually begin to whine about their muscles cramping and get up to go cool off in the water. You watch as they race to the shoreline, snorting when they both end up tripping because of a wave.

“Sounds like you missed us too,” Sunghoon muses, eyes resting carefully on the side of your face.

Your ears warm at the prospect of being watched so carefully, and you duck your chin to avoid letting Sunghoon notice.

“I’m going to take a dip too,” you decide, hauling yourself up and beginning to tug your outerwear off. Though you immediately feel some sort of relief, it’s short-lived and it only makes you feel more eager to jump into the ocean.

The sand is pleasantly warm under the soles of your feet as you jog toward the shoreline, keen yet careful not to snag your leg on a stray branch or rock. Sunoo and Heeseung have trudged further into the ocean, joining Jay who’s now sat atop one of the huge jutting rocks and sunbathing like a cat. They’re close enough that you can make out their scheming expressions as they approach him.

As the water meets your feet, you’re overcome with an inundating sense of peace. Though you’ve already spent a week back at home, you haven’t yet had the chance to come visit the ocean. Growing up so close to it, it had become inevitably tied with your youth, associated with everything you considered home. As much as you tried to forget about it, the riptide pulled you right back under.

Jay’s squawk of surprise as Sunoo and Heeseung haul him into the water startles you into looking back over at them. You bark out a laugh as you continue to watch their shenanigans, Jay resurfacing and promptly dragging both of the perpetrators under with him. They all yell in unison, cut off once they plummet under, followed by a stream of bubbles as they wrestle with each other.

Any thought of joining them is thrown out the window when you see one of their legs stick out from the water, only to flail around uselessly and be sucked right back under.

You dip further in until the water is lapping at your chest. It’s pleasantly cool against your sun-streaked skin, and as you run your palms through the undulating water, your body readily immerses itself until you’re bobbing pleasantly with each new wave. The noise of the ocean stuffs your ears like cotton, and you can’t help but think you never want to be so far from it again.

An unexpectedly forceful wave has you yelping and rushing to keep your head above the water. When you bring your palms back up, you notice with a sinking feeling that a few of your rings are missing, ones you were sure you came into the ocean with. Cursing yourself for your carelessness, you look around aimlessly, squinting against the sun and watching for any signs of them in the water.

A bright glare reflecting from a stroke’s distance away from you has you venturing deeper, toward a section of the water where you’re certain you see something floating.

You lunge forward, expecting to catch onto the next level of rocks with your feet, but instead, you’re met with cold gaps of water and nothingness. A surge of panic seizes you by the throat, and you have half a second to process that you’re falling before your head’s submerged and you’re entirely suspended in the ocean.

There’s something tugging at your body, relentless and forceful and even as you squint blearily through the water, you don’t see anything there.

You feel yourself go cold all over, and the shock of the situation renders you immobile for a split second. Your legs thrash about trying to locate the nearest surface to find purchase on, but you’re pulled back by another crescendoing wave, and you lose all semblance of direction before you can head for the surface. As the wave flips you, you’re sent hurdling even deeper, where the water grows colder and the noise from above is muffled beyond comprehension.

You feel your chest grow tighter and tighter by the second, a newfound fuzziness suffusing your head. Your lungs burn with the need to breathe in, but you can’t tell which way is up and down and you think you’re going to run out of breath and–

There’s a tight grip at your forearm, pulling you toward the surface with a searing strength. Your legs kick out from under you as you try your hardest to propel yourself along, until another hand joins the other to clasp onto your other arm. You break the surface of the ocean with a ragged gasp, groaning when you feel your torso hit something solid.

You realize you’ve been hauled onto a surfboard as it buoyantly sways atop an incoming wave. Inhaling deeply, you grip the sides of the board until your knuckles turn white, fearful of slipping back into the never-ending whirlwind of water. The roaring of the ocean fills your ears like static until you can’t discern it over the sound of your own coughing.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” there’s a familiar voice above you, but you’re too preoccupied with hacking up water and trying to breathe to look up.

Something brushes your forehead, and you feel your hair being pushed out of your face, allowing the setting sunlight to burn against your eyelids. You blink the world back into view, wincing when some of the salty water dips right back into your eyes. You find an achingly familiar face staring back at you amidst the noise in your ears, and for a split second, you think it’s your oxygen-deprived brain conjuring up hallucinations.

Jake blinks at you timidly when your gaze focuses on him. He looks alarmed, as if the sight of him is enough to send you rearing back into the water. But even in the hazy aftershock of your incident, you’re unable to feel anything but gratitude.

Slumping against the board, you close your eyes and focus on taking deep breaths. The water around you sloshes as Jake maneuvers the two of you toward shore, taking extra precautions not to let any waves spill out against you. You hear shouting from the shore end, where you presume the rest of your friends have caught on to what’s happening.

As the board reaches the shallow end, you feel the same hands envelop your sides, this time bringing you into a secure hold against Jake’s firm skin. Your heart’s pounding in your ears and you’re too preoccupied with taking shallow breaths to focus on how warm Jake feels against you.

The next few minutes feel like a blur in the most literal sense. Your vision is still bleary and you have a hard time making out your friends faces as they cluster in around Jake and try to help him lay you down. There’s so much noise that you can’t discern any words in particular, everything jumbled together into a sequence of distant-sounding, unrecognizable utterances.

You groan as your back hits something soft and you become acutely aware of all the unwavering stares on you. You try to sit up but fail, clearing your throat and taking a few deep, staggering breaths.

“Fuck, I feel like shit,” you rasp. It makes a relieved bout of laughter ring out around you, and you smile despite the discomfort in your chest.

“We’ll give you some space,” Sunghoon says gently, patting your calf. The touch lingers as he draws away, and you follow his retreating figure with your unfocused gaze.

One by one, you watch as your friends pull back, reconvening further away so as not to overwhelm you with their conversations and bearings. But you feel a lingering presence remain by your head, and the curious urge in you beats out the embarrassment you think you should feel. Looking up, you find Jake already staring back.

“Is it hard for you to breathe? Do you feel like there’s still pressure in your lungs?” Jake’s eyes seek yours out anxiously, and you realize with a start that he’s genuinely worried.

“I’m okay,” you promise, “I think I just need to rest. I’m more in shock than anything else.”

Nodding, Jake exhales sharply, and you notice his shoulders deflate. He settles down on the mat, leaving a comfortable gap between the two of you. You watch as the material beneath him dampens from his swim trunks, eyes trailing along the exposed skin of his legs, now covered in smatterings of sand. You only look away when you spot a familiar mole on his upper thigh.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

You’re met with silence, heavy and unnerving. It’s the kind that makes you think you’ve said something wrong, something that needs to be taken back, forgotten. You nearly think Jake’s missed it until you hear quiet shuffling, then–

“S’okay, you just scared me a bit back there, that’s all,” he mumbles. You feel the warm weight of his gaze settling on your face again, but you think any last breath you have in you will be knocked out if you try to look back up at him. Looking at Jake has always been a bit like looking into the sun. “I still care about you a lot, despite what you might think. I was really worried.”

The sincerity in his words makes your chest churn painfully. Breathing in deeply, you reach out blindly with your hand along the mat, feeling the damp straw beneath your fingertips as you search for the familiar callouses you held onto earlier.

“I know,” you whisper, for a lack of better words. There’s something unsaid left hanging in the air, and you hope Jake can catch onto it before it disappears.

Jake’s fingers meet yours, and you hold your breath as they slip between the crevices of your own. You don’t dare to open your eyes, instead focusing on steadying your racing heart, on Jake and his gentle touch along your knuckles. His hold is grounding, but your mind still flutters at the prospects of what if, what if, what if.

☀

The momentum between you two shifts after that, but the nagging voice at the back of your mind stays.

Jake begins joining your group around town more and more often, usually for smaller increments of time between his practice sessions and work shifts. You come to learn that he now works as a trainer at the same academy he started training at, and that he coaches the under-12 group. He’s still busy as ever, but your friends make it a point that he’s always invited no matter when he’s able to join.

Jake takes these invites seriously; he drops by your hangouts nearly every time you’re there, a feat that isn’t hard for you to miss. He keeps a respectful distance but it doesn’t feel like he’s taken to ignoring you and ruling you out of his life completely. If anything, it’s the latter. You know the distance is more for your own sake than anything, and with each time you see him, it becomes increasingly harder for you to stay away.

Jake also begins visiting the shop more and more often, though never to buy anything substantial. He’ll usually do a quick round of the aisles before coming to hang out at the counter, where he’ll make (initially shy) conversation with you before purchasing a Clif Bar and leaving.

Admittedly, you enjoy the company more than you should, even if Jake’s presence is technically a hindrance to your professional work environment.

“Don’t you have a competition to be getting ready for?”

Jake’s eyebrows furrow, and he stops reading the ingredients label of the bar he’s holding to look up at you like you’re crazy. “I am. This is part of my new pre-practice ritual.”

“What, buying Clif Bars and showing me funny Tiktoks?” Your question’s meant to be amusing, but Jake nods at you, dead serious.

“I think I like the Crunchy Peanut Butter flavor the most,” he hums, handing over the bar so you can scan it. “Also, if I don’t have your socials, how am I supposed to show you all the red panda Tiktoks I’ve been seeing?”

The iPad dings softly as you go through the motions of finalizing his purchase. You feel Jake’s unfaltering gaze follow your hands, and you try not to let how flustered you feel show. “Is this you trying to be slick while asking for my number?”

“Maybe,” he grins. “Only if it’s okay, though.”

Jake slides a bill toward you, taking the bar and pocketing it in his shorts. No matter how confident he sounds, you’re able to tell he’s nervous by the way he wrings his hands behind his back.

Wordlessly, you pass your phone across the counter, trying not to look too pleased as Jake practically whoops and picks it up to type in his digits. When you get it back, you see that he’s written himself in as Jakey, followed by an emoji combination that you can’t make sense of. Something warm stirs in your gut.

☀

It’s your fourteenth birthday when you finally muster up the courage to let Jake teach you how to surf.

The word teach being used very loosely, but rather, just letting Jake mess around with you on his board. At that point, he had been in the academy for just over three years, enough to give both of you some kind of reassurance that he knew what he was doing. Jake had offered you lessons countless of times before then, eager to get you on the same board that had brought him so much joy, but you’d never had the guts to agree.

“This feels like attempted murder,” you whine from where you’re perched on his board, shrieking when a wave jostles you the tiniest bit.

Jake laughs at you, though not unkindly, and he expertly grabs onto your forearms and maneuvers you into a more secure position. He’s surprisingly gentle yet firm, and when he wades a bit deeper into the water, you find that you’re not as nervous as you thought you’d be. He instructs you on what to do when the next wave comes, promising you that he’ll be next to you in case anything happens.

He helps you ride out the first wave, making a show of clapping for you even though you did none of the work. The next few come and go very similarly, until you begin to get a hang of the general motions needed to keep you above the water. The reassurance of Jake’s hands on your skin is enough to have you soaring with your head in the clouds.

When a higher wave approaches, you tell Jake you’re confident in taking on it yourself. His eyebrows arch when he looks at you, but he steps away to let you handle it on your own. Your stomach swells in tandem with the wave and you scream bloody murder once you feel the board move, but you’re somehow able to stay above the water without any of his help.

“I did it! Did you see that? Jake, holy shit!” Your peals of joy are muffled suddenly when a wave slams into your side and your open mouth fills with briny water. Sputtering, you turn to see Jake fail miserably at hiding his amusement, doubling over from his laughter.

“Yah, it’s not funny! I could’ve died!” You scold him, but it only makes him laugh harder.

“It’s a little funny, you have to admit,” he says, and you really can’t disagree with him. “Besides, you’re doing really well. I’m happy you finally let me, even if it’s taken me months of convincing.”

“There’s a reason I don’t trust you,” you huff, but the words carry no animosity and you couldn’t mean them less. You trust Jake with your every fiber.

“I think this is your sign to join me in the academy,” Jake declares.

Frowning, you move to dismount the board and sink into the water next to him. “I can’t see myself enjoying it as much as you do, Jake.”

Jake hums, frowning. You can’t take looking at him upset, so you decide the best option is to climb up on his back and smother him in a tight hug. He complains when your arms come to encircle his shoulders and you cling onto him like gum, but his protests are weak and only motivate you to hug him harder.

“Can I be honest?” The vulnerable edge to Jake’s voice has you stiffening. “I’m scared we won’t be as close soon. I’ve got the academy and school, and I know you’ve got all those tutoring sessions after school too. What if we can’t hang out anymore? What if you start to think you’re too cool for me?”

Snorting, you can’t help but squeeze his shoulders tightly and lean even more of your weight on him. Jake doesn’t seem to mind one bit, hands warm where they’re holding your knees.

“If I thought I was too cool for you I wouldn’t be spending my birthday alone with you.”

“Not true, we had lunch with the rest of your friends earlier,” he mumbles, which earns him a chastising flick against his temple. “Ow, what! It’s facts!”

“Can you just accept the fact that I care about you?” You rest your chin atop his damp hair. “Maybe I even love you. Have you thought about that, Jake?”

When Jake doesn’t respond, you’re left to listen to the crashing of waves around you. You sit with the words in your head, and as anxious as you feel having said them out loud, you know you mean them. Jake’s been an inseparable part of your life for as long as your brain can conceptualize being alive, it’s inevitable that you’d grow to care and love him.

You didn’t know it then, but it was also inevitable the love that you felt would blossom into something much, much harder to ignore.

“I love you too,” Jake echoes, and it’s so quiet you nearly miss it.

Clambering off his back, you fall into the water with a splash.

“My last birthday wish is that you get me to that buoy over there.” Pointing in the distance, Jake follows your finger and squints at the bobbing yellow buoy. You’ve never been that far in, but you feel oddly brave in the wake of the setting sun.

“This is, like, your 5th birthday wish already,” he says without much conviction, already moving to pull the board in closer to you.

“I know,” you grin. “But you love me, so I doubt you care all that much.”

☀

The day of the state qualifiers falls on the first Saturday of January, a warm and humid day with a sky as blue as the ocean. You and Sunghoon close up the shop at noon to join your friends on the beach, where they’ve occupied the closest spectator area to the shore and are frantically applying sunscreen before the shade pulls back from their zone.

As expected, they’re all boasting varying shades of blue– Jake’s (mostly) self-proclaimed lucky color. The whole shtick started at one of his first competitions at the academy, where you and Sunghoon had happened to both be wearing blue when Jake won his first ever podium title. Jake had called you his lucky charms, fully knowing it was silly, yet neither of you ever dared to show up without the color afterwards.

You’re also donning your own bit of blue, a discreetly tucked handkerchief in one of your pockets, with which you mindlessly fiddle as you approach your friends. You’d thought it to be subtle enough, easy to blame on a mindless coincidence, but one raised brow from Sunghoon had confirmed otherwise.

Sunoo’s speaker borders on obnoxiously loud as it blasts Megan Thee Stallion’s Thot Shit, garnering concerned looks from the company of grandmothers that have taken up seats next to you. They seem to reconsider their choice of seating, but the quickly filling lot on the sand leaves them with few options to move. You and Sunghoon have to squeeze in next to Heeseung on the end to fit on the blanket, and end up sitting shoulder to shoulder and knee to knee.

You’re also close to the judging panel, a small shaded hut where a few people in white polos are shuffling around with papers, readying as the tournament draws to a start. Heeseung passes the bottle of sunscreen to you and you thank him with a smile, squeezing out a handful to begin lathering onto your exposed arms and legs. The sun overhead begins muscling through the canopy soon after and you’re forced to savor the last few moments of shady reprieve.

The first competitor is introduced over the speaker, and an immediate ripple of cheering rings through the audience. You clap good-naturedly but can’t deny your attention begins to stray the longer it takes for Jake to be called. He’s one of the last names, and as soon as the two familiar syllables of his name are announced, you perk up excitedly.

Jake and his signature baby blue board appear seconds later, followed by a tumult of deafening cheers from your section. It’s partly due to Sunoo’s incredible lung capacity, but it’s also no secret that your town has always shown up to support Jake in competitions. He’s been a favorite ever since he began winning the junior championships in high school, climbing his way up to the highest ranks along the Sunshine Coast and earning himself the title of your town’s pride.

The rest of the competitors are familiar to you in their own ways. You recall seeing a few of them at past events, where they’d gone against Jake and failed to strip him of his title, and the rest being fellow members of Jake’s surfing academy.

The panel of judges officiates the beginning of the tournament, and with a resounding whistle, the first surfer drops into the water and meets his first wave.

Though you’d been to your fair share of surfing competitions, you’d forgotten the infectious thrill that usually accompanied attending them. The thrum of excitement in the air has you leaning forward throughout the entirety of the first, second, and third heats, watching the surfers tackle waves with an effortlessness that leaves you astonished.

Jake’s able to pass through all of the heats with remarkably high scores, a feat that’s never failed to impress you. The waves he catches within the competition zone are simple enough to leave no room for mistakes, and yet complicated enough that the other competitors struggle in their maneuvers to impress the judges. He performs his usual routine, the one you’d watched him rehearse for years on end during practice sessions, and ends it off with a foam climb that sends a ripple of applause throughout the audience.

As his last twenty-minute set draws to an end, Jake paddles back toward the shoreline while the competitor prepares to jump in after him. He waves over at your section, grinning boyishly when Heeseung wolf-whistles and Sunoo makes a suggestive hand sign at him. Your eyes meet for the briefest moment right before Jake has to exit the water, but it’s all you’re able to think about while the rest of the competition drags on.

As expected, Jake takes a place among the top 3 competitors. He’s just a few points from first place, but it’s enough to qualify him for the next, higher level competition that’ll undoubtedly be more important to him.

As the customary ending ceremony concludes, your group waits for him off to the side, away from the huddle of audience members queuing to get a photo. They’re currently swarming the third place champ, who looks like he’d rather be anywhere else but there.

Jake appears not long after. He’s still shirtless, which is really awful but also really great for you, and he’s pushed his damp hair away from his face. You think you’re going to die when he gets close enough for you to make out that the necklace he’s wearing is a wooden star charm you gifted him when he first started surfing. You know he’s most likely forgotten who gave it to him in the first place, but the chance that he might possibly remember has you feeling feverish.

Sunoo jumps on Jake’s back as soon as he joins you all under the shade. Jake oofs, but readily supports Sunoo with his arms, who cheers cutely and grips onto him like a koala. You tell yourself that you really couldn’t care less if Jake’s biceps flex from the action.

“There’s our guy,” Jay hollers, ruffling Jake’s hair. He circles Jake like a vulture and tries to jump on Sunoo’s back, which sends all three of them screeching and barreling down into the sand. You can’t find it in you to feel embarrassed even as people look over, laughing heartily at the way they wriggle around and curse.

“I’m going to blacklist you from all of my competitions,” Jake threatens once he’s finally off the ground, scowling as he shakes the sand out of his hair.

“You did really good,” you blurt out. “That last Pipeline came out of nowhere, but you handled it well. Even the judges thought so.”

Jake knows this. He knows his routine better than you do, knows what happened out in the ocean better than you do. And yet he still smiles sweetly, thanks you, and tells you he’s really glad you came. You see the way his eyes flicker towards the bandana sticking out of your pocket, and try not to preen under his gaze when he all but flushes.

“You should all come to mine to celebrate, my mom’s going to be making barbecue later,” he offers. Much to your dismay, he tugs a shirt on and hauls the strap of his bag onto his shoulder.

“Auntie Sim we fucking love you,” Sunoo mumbles.

It’s a unanimous decision, and you couldn’t be happier cramped into the back of Jake’s car.

☀

Aside from your friends, the only thing you’ll admit to missing from your hometown would be Auntie Lee’s Double Cheeseburger and Milkshake Combo™. It was what you ate to celebrate your high school graduation, what you ate with Jake to console him after one of his many breakups, and the last thing you ate before you thought you’d be leaving for good.

But despite Melbourne’s more than abundant choices of fast food, all of the restaurants you’d tried out had only left you missing Auntie Lee more. You blamed some of it on nostalgia, but really, when it came down to your very professional opinion, she just made a really good burger and milkshake.

So, when Heeseung proposes you all hang out again soon, you’re quick to suggest her diner as the meeting spot.

Thankfully, not much has changed there either. Auntie Lee’s hair is now a burgundy red, a shade you think suits her better than her past ginger tint, and she greets you at the register with the same crooked smile you’ve come to associate with her good food. Her apron still has an array of colorful pins she’d collected over the years and a stubborn grease stain right below the neckline that makes you feel oddly reminiscent.

The six of you squeeze into one of the booths by the window, the same one you used to crowd into as high schoolers after late-night study sessions. The formation in which you choose to sit in is strikingly similar as well, and when you run your fingertips along the underside of the table on your side, you’re able to quickly locate a carving that you’d done haphazardly in your senior year.

“Holy shit, our initials are still here,” you say, and Sunghoon reaches under the table to check as well.

As Auntie Lee brings your orders in record time, you sit back against the booth and survey the rest of the table. If you dig far back enough in your camera roll, you’re certain you have an exact shot of a moment just like this captured.

“Inflation somehow never hit this place.” Jay’s looking at the food like a predator, and you try not to giggle. You hear Sunghoon mumble a prompt amen from next to you and you look down at your own food with an increasingly salivating mouth.

“Cheers to us and to the economy,” Heeseung raises his milkshake, and the rest of the table is quick to follow suit. As you laugh and clink your glasses together, you catch Jake’s eyes peering at you from across the booth, but he’s quick to look away when you notice.

As you dig into your burger, you try not to think about the lingering feeling of his eyes on you. Jake’s always had a sort of maddening effect on you– once the thought of him circulated in your mind, getting rid of him was like tugging gum off of hot asphalt.

“My shift earlier was ass but this is enough to fix me,” Heeseung mumbles through his mouthful of burger, wiping at his sauce-stained mouth with a napkin.

“Do you still work at that cafe by the bike rental place?” You ask.

Heeseung furrows his brows and shakes his head adamantly, swallowing his bite before responding. “I left a while ago. I work at that one hotel by the beach now. The one with the funny misspelled sign outside.”

Humming in acknowledgement, you swallow the bite in your mouth and frown. “Huh.”

“I feel like I don’t know anything about you anymore. And I feel like you don’t know anything about us anymore, either,” Jay admits with a pout. His words make your stomach turn uneasily, and you put down your burger with guilty fingers.

“Yeah,” Sunoo hums in agreement, “what’s been going on with you? You told us you were leaving to study in Melbourne, but that’s pretty much all I know. You never post on Instagram either.”

It’s true– when you were first planning on leaving, you had no intention of forgetting everything behind. You didn’t have time for goodbyes, and as shitty as it was, the thought of keeping in close touch with your friends scared you. You worried that what had happened between you and Jake would alter all of your friendships forever, and that they no longer saw you in the same way.

Clearing your throat, you try not to let your voice waver under the weight of their attention. “I do study in Melbourne, I pretty much live there full-time now. Have an apartment and everything,” you pause when Sunoo cheers brightly, and you flush at his enthusiasm before continuing. “That’s pretty much it, though. I was going to work in the city this summer, but I’m honestly kind of glad Sunghoon called. Didn’t realize how much I missed this place.”

Everyone awes, and from beside you, Sunghoon squeezes your shoulder gently.

“Do you live with anyone?” Sunoo asks slyly, popping another fry into his mouth. He props his chin up on his hand, feigning indifference, but you know him well enough to tell when he’s trying to be foxy. “Roommates? Friends? …A special someone?”

Waving him off, you laugh at how his lips quirk up inquisitively. “No, it’s a small space so I’m glad it’s just me. And if you’re trying to ask if I’ve got a boyfriend or girlfriend, you’re not being slick at all.”

The rest of the table laughs with you, but you don’t miss Sunoo’s whine of protest.

Jay crosses his arms, cocking his head. His stare makes you put down your fry. “So? Do you?”

“I expected this from Sunoo but not from you, Jay,” you huff. “Fuck, you’re all nosy as shit, you know that?”

When everyone continues to stare back expectantly, you pout and look down in defeat, “But yes, for the record, I’m single.”

“Jake’s studying in Brisbane now,” Heeseung says out of nowhere, and you look up to see the boy in question choke on his milkshake out of surprise. “He commutes, like, every day. As much as it’s crazy, I respect the grind. He’s always been smart as shit.”

The rest of the table hums in agreement, but you feel Sunghoon stiffen up next to you.

Jake clears his throat and rubs his neck sheepishly, clearly a bit startled by the sudden attention. Not for the first time that afternoon, he looks up at you tentatively, almost like making eye contact with you will sting him. “Um, yeah. I’m studying engineering. Architectural engineering, if we’re being technical. I applied and got in last year.”

“That’s really nice,” you say earnestly. Your throat feels all dry but you’re eager to hear more, almost desperate to grasp at everything you’ve missed in his life since you’d left. “Sounds hard, won’t lie, but you’re smart like that. I’m happy for you.”

Nodding, Jake’s lips twitch, almost like he’s trying to suppress his grin. The edges of his eyes crinkle as he tips his head forward in a show of gratitude. “Thank you.”

You’re not quite sure if you should continue the conversation or leave it where it is, so you reach for your milkshake, awkwardly tucking the straw between your lips to give yourself something to do. As you sip up the last of the liquid, your slurping screeches around the table and you wince.

“Fuck, it’s worse than I thought,” Heeseung groans loudly. His fork clatters in his plate where he drops it, the clang resounding around the empty diner dramatically.

“You two need to fix this, like, now,” Jay agrees, rubbing his temples. “The sexual tension is throwing me off. Do you get how bad that is?”

Frowning, you let go of your straw to stare at them in dismay, and, quite frankly, embarrassment. You’re sure your ears and neck are telling shades of red, based on how warm you feel all over, and you’re sure everyone can see. You knew you couldn’t avoid this for much longer, but the bandaid being ripped off didn’t hurt any less.

“You’re making her uncomfortable,” Jake speaks up. He’s looking at you concerned, but you can’t bear to meet his eyes for longer than a second.

“It’s okay, I know they’re joking,” you say meekly, frustrated with how upset you sound. You’re not, no matter how much you wish you were anywhere but here.

The blanket of silence that swathes the whole table weighs on you like stones. You stare at your empty cup stubbornly, refusing to look up at the pairs of eyes that are watching you intently, some with pity, some with guilt. You feel like a caged animal, backed into a corner and left with nowhere to run.

“I’m going to get some fresh air,” you announce. Still looking down, you get up abruptly and wade out from the booth, murmuring apologies under your breath as you knock into Sunghoon’s feet.

The night air is stuffy and briny as you breathe in mouthfuls of it. The headlights of a passing car blind you momentarily as you lean against the wooden railing of the restaurant’s porch, making you blink disorientedly. A group of teenagers noisily clamber in past you, and you ignore the looks that get thrown your way.

Jake steps outside soon after. Some part of you knew he would come after you, and it preens selfishly when he spots you and all but jogs to you.

“Hey,” he says awkwardly. There’s some scuffling against the porch floor before he comes to join you against the railing. A beat of stillness passes, then– “I’m really sorry.”

You snort. “Not your fault. Nothing to be sorry about.”

Jake regards you silently, the intensity of his gaze burning into your slumped shoulders. He always looks at you like he can see right through you, right through all of your skin and flesh and ugly secrets. It's unnerving thinking about just how much he knows.

“No, I–”

“Jake,” you cut him off, voice falling just short of desperate. Your knuckles begin to turn white where your hands curl against the porch. “I don’t want you to apologize. What happened between us isn’t something to be sorry about. It happened, and that’s that. Just wish you and everyone else wouldn’t be so stubborn about bringing it up all the time.”

The silence that follows rings in your ears and settles uncomfortably in your gut. You hesitate before speaking again, wanting to gauge Jake’s reaction, but you’re afraid he’ll leave if you don’t hurry.

“I just want to start over. Clean slate,” you mumble.

Jake remains quiet for what feels like an eternity. Your stomach twists anxiously, tossing and turning when his ruminating gaze shifts up from your shoulders and onto your face

“Is that what you want?” Jake’s voice is feeble and it washes over you like a breeze.

Breathing in sharply, you nod.

“Okay,” he says simply.

Then, in an act so unexpected it throws you off guard for a good few seconds, he thrusts a hand between both of your bodies, grinning impishly. “I’m Jake. Nice to meet ya. You come here often?”

The laugh that bursts from you is so raw and genuine and it makes your chest flutter. You take his hand and mutter your name between giggles, ignoring how the warmth encasing your palm is achingly familiar. "Fuck, you’re actually unbelievable. And no, first time in town actually.”

“Really,” Jake plays along easily, smirking when he leans against the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t reckon you need someone to show you around, would you?”

The implications of the offer are clear as day, and you visibly hesitate in your response. Jake’s features soften the slightest bit, like he’s afraid he’s crossed a boundary, and you hate the way your heart swells at this.

“I wouldn’t mind,” you say cheekily.

☀

You and Jake have always had somewhat of a normal relationship.

You first met him in primary school, when he was still shorter than you and had a gap in his teeth when he smiled. Having recently moved into town, he was placed in the same homeroom as you, and, by the will something much greater than the both of you, into the empty chair next to you.

It was hard to ignore him for more reasons than the fact that he was sitting just two feet away from you. Jake was full of personality, as you’d come to learn, and as charismatic as a boy could be at the tender age of 7. He was funny, knew a bit too much about whales and turtles, and was nice enough to share his lunch with you on the days you’d forgotten yours.

It was inevitable that he’d become your friend– you’d walk home together, play at the park together, and dig around in the dirt for worms occasionally– and you never thought it would get any more complicated than that. Until you entered secondary school.

Jake followed you into one of the three secondary schools in your town, and it’s where the two of you would come to meet Sunghoon. Although you two were no longer in the same homeroom, you still made efforts to spend the majority of your free time together, now joined by a third. Sunghoon seamlessly became interwoven into your life just like Jake had, and you couldn’t think about a future without either of them.

At the end of your first year in secondary school, Jake started surfing lessons and got his first girlfriend at the academy.

It was weird for you and Sunghoon, now one person less as you gathered at your usual spots at the park, your backyard, and the parking lot behind Auntie Lee’s diner. Sunghoon reasoned that nothing much had changed, but you both knew that wasn’t true. There was a Jake-shaped void that was impossible to ignore, much less fill, as he became more and more enthralled with the sport and his new girlfriend.

You’d never really met Haeun properly, despite how entangled you both were in Jake’s life. You had no reason to believe she wasn’t nice– Jake seemed more than happy every time he talked about her and boasted the widest grin you’d seen on him every time they texted. She was among the top in her age group at the surfing academy, had pretty hair, and even followed you back on Instagram. You really had no reason to believe anything bad.

And yet, you couldn’t help it. There was some deep, ugly feeling within you that you couldn’t get rid of for as long as she was involved with him. Looking back, it didn’t bother you as much as it probably should’ve. When you’d divulged your feelings to Sunghoon, he’d also brushed it off as innate jealousy. Your best friend was spending more time away from you, who wouldn’t be a little bit frustrated?

But from there, everything went downhill. Jake and Haeun broke up by the time summer ended, much to your relief, but it was far from the last girl that Jake got involved with. As the three of you worked your way up toward graduating, Jake grew further into his features and learned to embrace his hobbies with more and more groups of people. It was inevitable that Jake would earn himself a place among your school’s most well-known, and consequently, draw even more attention to himself, both from guys and girls.

Despite all of that, he continued to be someone you and Sunghoon could lean on. He had rigorous practice sessions that took up most of his week but made an effort to visit both of you after school to study and get food. Any time you felt like he was drifting away, he’d reel himself back in and attach himself to your side like gum. Which only made the suffocating feeling in you grow stronger.

It wasn’t until year 12 prom that you realized what was wrong with you.

While Jake had a date from another class, you and Sunghoon decided to show up to the event together, if only to take advantage of the free food and drinks your school was offering. The whole night, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jake from across the dance hall, anxiously watching the way he’d spin his date, the way he’d smile, laugh, and look at her like she’d personally hung the stars up in the sky.

As selfish as it was, you imagined yourself in her spot. And in retrospect, it really couldn’t have been more obvious.

“Are you not having fun?” Sunghoon had asked, hands slipping from where they were holding you by the waist.

When you’d turned back to look at him, the crestfallen expression on his face made you flinch. He looked like a kicked puppy, and it stung more to know you’d been the one kicking this whole time. “I’m sorry, I got distracted.”

“Really?” He’d scoffed, this time fully letting go of you. There was a vulnerable look in his eye as he stepped back, face dipping into the shadows of the dancing lights. “What’s the point of agreeing to go with me if you’re just going to stare at him like that the whole time?”

Everyone had gotten a bit weird around this time, but it wasn’t hard for you to tell what was going on. Sunghoon had never been really good at hiding his own feelings; you knew the cafe study dates were beginning to turn into more than just study dates for him. You’d noticed the lingering touches, the meaningful glances, the fond way he’d call your name. Somewhere along the way, Sunghoon had gotten caught up in you.

In hindsight, it was selfish of you to forgo addressing it. It was selfish to ignore it, stash it away at the back of your mind and hope he’d one day find his way out. But the paralyzing fear kept you so eagerly and cruelly reciprocative, so willing to play along. You already felt like you’d lost Jake, you couldn’t afford to lose Sunghoon too.

“Hoonie, I’m sorry, you know I–”

“I know,” he’d said, lips twisting into a pained smile. His eyes drifted over somewhere behind you, where you knew Jake was dancing with his date, and he shook his head. “And yet some stupid part of me hoped you’d finally get over him.”

In all your infinite luck, it seems like you never fully could.

☀

Slowly and heedlessly, Jake intertwines himself in the fibers of your life once again.

He’s the first face you see in the mornings at the shop. His laugh reverberates in your ears long after you two part ways for the day, his brief, fleeting touches linger along your skin like those of a receding wave’s. His contact name is the last thing you see at night, and he’s all you think about until you slip away to unconsciousness.

You’re so full of him you’re drowning– he’s everywhere around you and you think there’s really no escaping him this time.

“When does your shift end?” Jake pushes yet another Clif Bar across the register’s counter toward you.

The clock behind you chimes softly in response. You squint up at the rusted arrows and turn to Jake inquisitively. “In 10 minutes. Why?”

“Cool,” Jake rips open the wrapper and takes a bite from the bar. Chewing, he grins at you slyly. “You wanna come by mine after?” The proposition sounds more like a question than anything, but Jake knows you’ll say yes.

Jake’s car is a shacky little thing his family gifted him for this 18th. It’s the same as you remember it, with a mess of stickers haphazardly stuck along the dashboard and a row of stuffed animals along the back window that his cousins had left behind. The passenger seat still squeaks when you try to adjust it, and you both laugh when you end up sitting down and the cushion whines from under you.

Jake drives you through a route you know too well. He rolls the windows down (as far as the car allows them) and points at renovated buildings and new lots alike, narrating everything you’d missed while away. You lean against the door and let the breeze wash over your face, fiddling with the bag in your lap.

You’re there but you’re also not– Jake’s voice serves as an anchor while your mind wanders off just far enough not to worry him. These are all places you’ve been with him, and with each passing place, you have to blink away vivid memories that flash before your eyes in technicolor film.

You and Jake celebrating your middle school graduation at the rundown arcade that’s now been modernized. You and Jake troubling over what to gift Sunghoon at the comic book store that’s now shut down forever. You and Jake chasing his dog at the park that now finally has a special fenced off section just for dogs. You and Jake–

“This is the park where you lost one of your baby teeth from falling off a swing. You started crying and I had to take you home on my bike.”

“You remember that?” You blink at him incredulously, face growing hot.

“Of course I do,” Jake says matter-of-factly. “It’s hard to forget when the tooth’s still in my room.”

“What?!” Your bag slips off your lap when you sit up straight, bewildered and embarrassed. “No way, your mom wrapped it up and I took it home with me.”

Jake brings the car to a steady stop by the curb in front of his house. He reaches over across you to help you roll your window back up, and you try not to squirm under his amused gaze. “I’ll just show you then.”

Layla greets both of you at the threshold of the door, yelping once she lays eyes on you. You have a solid second to brace yourself before she leaps forward, propping both of her front paws against your thighs and wagging her tail so fast you worry she’ll start floating. Nearly losing your balance, you squeak in surprise, but are quick to reach out and pet her. 

You coo at her like she’s your own baby and in a way, she certainly is.

She’s soft and warm, cuddly as she headbutts your palms and licks at your fingers. “I missed you so much, cutie.”

“She missed you too,” Jake says, and you look up right as the camera shutter on his phone goes off. Squawking, you cover your face, albeit too late, because Jake giggles at his screen and you hear him mumble a quiet cute.

Jake’s room looks smaller than you remember it being. You think it’s because the small twin he used to have has been replaced by a modest queen, but you’re also no longer fresh out of high school and naive. There are sun-bleached spots in places where his old posters are, the walls now sparsely lined with polaroids and printed film photos.

Your feet subconsciously bring you closer to the walls. You squint at each of the photos, the people in some of them unrecognizable to you. There’s one from the day of your graduation, but it’s just Jake with his mom, along with a bouquet large enough to take up a third of the frame. There are a few of Layla in a wide range of settings, including one that you’re certain was taken while you were at the park together. There’s even one of the sunrise at the beach on a morning with calm waters and no people in sight.

Most notably, there are none of you up there. You reason that it wouldn’t make any sense for there to be in the first place, given everything that had happened, but some pathetic part of you wishes that Jake still held onto you the same way you did to him.

“Here,” Jake says, snapping your attention back to him. He’s unearthed a plain blue box from the depths of his closet, and he’s pushing it towards you with a lopsided smile.

You abandon the photographs and plop yourself down on the carpet. Peeling back the lid of the box, you peek inside and try to ignore the way your breath quickens when Jake situates himself right next to you. Your knees brush together as your fingers slowly sift through the contents, your mind barely registering what you’re looking at in the box.

A bunch of movie tickets from screenings you’d seen years ago. A birthday card you’d painted for him in middle school. An old Pikachu figurine you’d won for him at the fair. A postcard you’d mailed him from a school trip to Sydney. A magazine cutout from when you’d sat down to do vision boards together. A polaroid of you and Jake at the beach, posing with a hyperactive Layla who’d come out blurry on the film. A tiny plastic box with your baby tooth in it.

Your mind is racing so fast you feel the world around you halt still. Your shaky fingers pick up the box, peeling back the napkin that it’s wrapped up in.

“You– Why’d you keep all of this?”

Jake blinks at you like it’s a ridiculous question. “What, am I supposed to get rid of everything that reminds me of you? This box doesn’t have even a fraction of all that, anyway.”

It’s hard for you to wrap your mind around the thought, but Jake’s been holding onto you far longer than you could’ve hoped for.

“Can I tell you something?” Jake asks.

“You already did,” you joke, crumpling up the napkin under your hands and chucking it at him.

Jake catches it effortlessly and grins at you, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know you said you wanted to forget everything from before, but I feel as if I owe you an explanation. If not you, then for my own sake. It keeps me up sometimes, ya know?”

Your breath begins to thin out, but you nod anyway. You’ve known this conversation was inevitable, no matter how much you pushed it off. You couldn’t go back to Melbourne without letting Jake rip off the same bandaid for which he was responsible.

Jake’s eyes are soft as they meet your own, his hands gentle as they seek yours out to cradle them. “I could never be upset at you for prioritizing your own future back then, and I hope you don’t carry any of that burden with you. It was me who was unsure of what was happening in my life, what I wanted to do after high school. And it was wrong of me to try and tie you down with me here.

“If anything, you were the only direction I had in my life. And I was so, so scared I’d lose you to something else. Something better. But when I look back on how selfish I was, how desperate I was to keep you around, I can’t help but feel so guilty. Because I should’ve seen how unhappy you were here, and being with me couldn’t change that.”

Jake’s voice is so fragile you could smash it into a million pieces like fine china. Your eyes blink once, twice, and then your cheeks feel all damp and you can’t hold it in anymore. Jake thumbs at the tears that skid down your skin, and you try to swallow down your erratic hiccups, but even through your sobs, you can feel yourself laughing. Despite your tears, you’re happy.

“I don’t think I was ever unhappy,” you admit. “I was just scared. Scared of getting stuck here like everyone else. Scared I’d never accomplish anything and that I’d waste away the most important years of my life. I was so scared I forgot to think about everything that was worth staying for here. Like you.”

Pulling the box into your lap, you look down at its contents with a teary smile. Though you feel shaken up, there’s an underlying cathartic release to it all– this is the closure that you left without, the closure you thought you were never going to get.

“I hope you don’t mind me taking my tooth home with me,” you tease, pocketing the packaged tooth in your shorts. Looking up, you push the box into Jake’s hands. “You can keep the rest.”

Jake regards you silently, but the look on his face is so soft it makes your ears feel all hot. He nods, looking down into the contents of the box with a smile wide enough to make the edges of his eyes crease up. “I don’t mind,” he muses, “I really did keep a lot of things, huh?”

“It’s cute though!” You’re quick to reassure, and Jake’s answering laughter sounds like fizzy soda pop.

The two of you lounge around on the floor of his bedroom until it’s too hot to even lay around. As Layla enters the room and pounces on you, Jake sits up to look at you while you scratch behind her ears and mumble nonsense to her. “You wanna go in the pool?”

“I didn’t bring my bathers though,” you frown between coos.

“Oh my God,” Jake groans, getting up from the floor and pacing over to his drawers. “You’ve even started speaking like a Melburnian. They’re togs, excuse you, and I can lend you some shorts or something.”

The shorts and shirt he passes you have random cartoons on them and are thankfully dark enough to not go transparent in the water. You clamber up from your spot on the floor and wince as you stretch.

“I’ll change in here,” you tell him. When Jake remains standing in the room with a blank expression, you point towards the door and tell him to shoo.

“Got it chief,” Jake salutes you jokingly, “Layla, let’s go girl.”

“Layla can stay,” you interrupt him, whistling to call her back over. Layla obediently follows, planting herself by your feet and barking at Jake, who remains frozen in the doorway.

“This feels really mean,” he pouts at you, grabbing the door knob to shut the door after him. But even after he closes the door, you can hear his voice in the hallway. “Last one in the pool is a loser!”

Huffing, you look down at Layla and giggle when she nudges your foot as if to say hurry up.

☀

There’s a lightness to your breaths that you swear came after that day at Jake’s. You think it’s silly to attribute it to a mere conversation, but in retrospect, any weight you’d carried before was because of an absence of any such conversation.

You feel good, oddly much so that it’s almost weird. You feel as if the universe had absolved you of all the pain and guilt you had tied to this place, and all you were left with was the fondness and euphoria of finally being back.

Until shit begins hitting the fan soon after.

On an unusually gloomy day for the summer, you and Sunghoon find yourselves on the steps in front of the shop, taking advantage of the opportunity to be outside without experiencing heat stroke symptoms. The concrete is still warm under your legs, enough so that Sunghoon offers up his shirt for you to sit on at one point, but it’s a welcome change from the unpleasant temperatures you’d seen thus far.

It’s Sunghoon’s part of the shift currently, but the store’s been eerily empty for the first half of the day, so you two have taken it upon yourselves to take a well-deserved break. Perks of being your own bosses, and you’re sure your aunt would approve. You’d hardly broken a sweat, and who are you to turn down Sunghoon’s offer of ice cream and a soda?

Besides, listening to Sunghoon fervidly talk about the new tv show he’s started watching while you chow down your cone is a treat of its own. You take the chance to rant about the last weird TikTok you saw while Sunghoon finishes off his own ice cream before it melts.

There’s a natural lull in your conversation at which point you decide to check your phone. Jake’s name is atop most of the notifications on your screen, and you’re not quite sure what to reply to first. Your fingers fidget on the device and you bite your bottom lip, holding back a grin when you finally click on your messages and see a picture of Layla with a hat too big for her head.

“What’re you smiling so much at?” Sunghoon’s voice is teasing, and you have half a second to process his question before he’s cramming into your side and peeking at your phone with prying eyes.

“Hey!” You scold, but it’s too late, because he’s seen the contact name atop, and you can’t think of a lie fast enough before his next question comes.

“You’re texting Jake?” The teasing smirk on his lips melts with the accusatory tone in his voice, and you wince as you lock your screen and hide your phone.

“Why do you sound like that? You’re acting like you’ve just walked in on me trying to hide a body or something!”

Sunghoon’s lips purse and he eyes your side, where you’ve tucked your phone away. “Don’t be ridiculous, this is basically the equivalent.”

“Ridiculous?” You scoff. Something in your throat settles uneasily, and you try not to sound too hurt when you speak again. “I’m just talking to him, Hoon. What are you on about?”

“Really? You’re giving him a second chance after everything he’s done?” Sunghoon fixes you with a dismayed stare, brows furrowed and fists clenched where they rest in his lap. “Do I have to remind you that you left in the first place because of him?”

The lump in your throat grows and you feel like you’ll throw up. Looking away, you blink up at the cloudy sky and try to focus on evening out your breathing. Fights with Sunghoon have never been easy, but fights with Sunghoon about Jake, though rare, always left you numb for days on end.

“I’m not giving him a second chance. We’re friends, testing the waters again, that’s all,” you say meekly. “And I didn’t leave because of him, I was going to study in Melbourne anyway. Stop giving him so much credit.”

Sunghoon’s silence feels like an eternity. You hear him shift next to you, then, out of the corner of your eye, you watch as he stands up. His stare burns into your scalp like the scalding sun. “Even you don’t believe yourself.”

Sunghoon’s eyes are glossy and tender from where you can see them, and it dawns on you that he’s close to crying. His teeth are digging into his bottom lip and his eyebrows are set and furrowed, but you can tell that he’s upset and failing at hiding it.

“It may not seem like it, but it hurt all of us when you stopped keeping in touch after you left,” he continues, wiping at his eyes with his hand. “It sucked a lot. We all thought we lost a good friend forever.”

“Sunghoon,” you call, voice breaking off at the end. You reach out to grab him by the wrist, looking up with wide, apologetic eyes. “Sunghoon, I’m sorry. I’ve always–”

“Had a thing for Jake? Yeah, I know,” he dismisses, smiling shakily. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I know. And you know I’ve always had a thing for you. But I didn’t let that get in the way ”

“Because it’s not fair to either of us.” You can feel your throat begin to tighten in the same way it does when you’re about to sob, can feel your eyes sting and your heart falter painfully.

Abruptly standing up from the curb, you ignore the way your skin burns from the heated concrete and reach out to envelop Sunghoon into a tight hug. His arms remain limp at his sides for a brief second, until he hears you sniffle and immediately reciprocates the embrace. You close your eyes and inhale deeply, coaxing Sunghoon into rocking back and forth with you.

“I love you,” he says. “I love you so much and I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

Nodding against his shoulder, you pull back to look at him. The rims of his eyes are red and his face is slightly puffy, but you realize he’s no different than the boy you’ve always held so dear to your heart. No matter the distance you’ve spent apart, the disagreements you’ve struggled over, the spats and rocky paths. He’s still your Sunghoon.

“I love you too, Hoonie.” Wiping at one of the tear streaks on his cheekbone, you gently cup his cheek and ignore the way your heart falters when he leans into your touch. “Even if it’s not in the way I wish I could, I still love you so much."

Sunghoon doesn’t say anything for a minute, instead resigning to just closing his eyes and melting against your hand. You hold still all the while, humming softly under your breath until he feels ready to move off.

“Okay, that’s enough of that,” Sunghoon decides. He wipes at the remaining tears on his face, and moves to hold the door to the shop open, gesturing you inside. “I’ve got cookie dough Ben and Jerry’s in the freezer that I need your help finishing. And no, you cannot get out of this.”

Snorting, you step inside and look over your shoulder to tease, “If you seriously think I’d pass on Ben and Jerry’s, we should re-evaluate this friendship.”

Sunghoon laughs, a full-bellied one where you can see the endearingly sharp edges of his teeth and his Adam's apple bob, and closes the door behind him. He doesn’t say anything to that, silently wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he leads you up the stairs. When you look over, he’s still smiling. You think you’ll be okay.

☀

Rolling down the window, you thrust your arm out into the humid evening air and relish in the gust of wind that meets your palm. From your position on the hill, you can see the entirety of the shoreline in all of its tranquil glory, devoid of any visitors and undisturbed in the wake of the sunset.

You think that this is where you’re meant to be– in a quiet world, next to Jake, with every trivial worry left behind.

Jake parks the car underneath the jagged shade of a pandanus tree and races over to the other side to open your door, almost tripping in his haste. Laughing, you step out and help him unload his board from where it’s tied to the roof of the car.

The two of you have routinely begun choosing the same spot on the beach. It’s close enough to the water so that you can reach it without the sand burning your feet, but far enough so that the crashing waves don’t end up touching you. You know it’s the same spot because it’s next to a mosaic made of seashells that has yet to be destroyed.

Jake thinks the mosaic resembles a cityscape, but you think it looks like a blooming rose.

Sometimes, Jake swims around on his board and practices old moves while you watch him keenly. Sometimes, you read an old book or doze off while Jake does laps around the shore. Sometimes, he even invites you into the water with him, and sometimes, you say yes. You mutually bask in the presence of the ocean and each other, and it’s all you really need.

“God, it’s so humid today,” you complain, huffing as you drop your bag onto the sand. Jake hums in agreement and straightens out the blanket so that you can sit down.

“It won’t be getting much worse after this. Summer’s almost over anyway,” Jake says mindlessly, tugging at his own bag and rummaging through it with a pout.

Right. It was at the forefront of your mind until it suddenly wasn’t– leaving again.

The prospect of having to return to a life without Jake and Sunghoon and everyone else you loved here was proving difficult for you to conceptualize. The return ticket sitting in your wallet was long forgotten, tucked away in a pocket and left untouched until now. Your fingers itch to reach for it in your bag, to rip it to shreds and dig it under the sand and forget about it for good.

A nudge on your shoulder snaps you back to the present, and you find Jake holding out a Melona bar in a silent offering. You take it with a wide grin and rip open the plastic without hesitation. You haven’t had these popsicles in a while, probably since the last time Jake bought you one.

“You wanna tell me what you’re thinking about?”

Popping your mouth off of the bar, you lick your lips and crane your neck to look at Jake. He’s in the process of opening his own popsicle, but he’s watching you carefully, almost timidly.

“A bunch of silly shit,” you admit. “Like how I don’t want to go back to Melbourne all that much anymore.”

Jake’s eyes dip across your face, like he’s searching for indications that you’re lying. You think they pause on your lips for the slightest second longer, but then he’s looking away altogether and you don’t know if you can trust yourself.

“I don’t want you to go back to Melbourne either,” he laughs, voice breaking off toward the end. He’s nervous.

“Clingy much?” Your joke’s meant to ease the ache in your chest but it only makes it worse. “It’s fine, you have my number and socials. You can bother me there.”

“We don’t have to talk about this right now. You’ve still got a few weeks anyway, why focus on leaving when we could be making the most of this time?” And Jake’s right. Last you were here, you hadn’t known you wouldn’t be back for a while. You never got a proper goodbye with many people or places. But now you knew, and there was no use mourning the inevitable.

You knew you would be back eventually.

You and Jake finish off your Melona bars and shed your outerwear so you can wade into the water. As your fingertips graze the water by your hips, you close your eyes and wiggle your toes against the sandy floor. You hear Jake dive into the water nearby, followed by a split second of calm before something brushes along your calf and you can’t hold in your terrified shriek.

Looking down, you find Jake peering up at you through the water, his wide grin visible even under the buoyant ripples. He resurfaces with a big splash in front of you, sticking his tongue out at you childishly while you wipe the water from your face. You feel your jaw drop incredulously, and you have half a mind to retaliate and give him a taste of his own medicine.

Jake seems to read your mind, however, because he makes a dash for the shore before you can move to splash him back.

The sand dips beneath the soles of your feet as you chase after Jake, sending water droplets scattering up around you in frantic arcs. You think he’s running toward one of the inlets, the one where there’s a loose rock formation that allows you to venture further into the ocean. He stops where the sand bleeds into dark, jagged rocks, leaving you to catch up to him in seconds.

You barrel into his back and giggle as he turns around to hug you to his chest, shrieking when he lifts you up and your feet kick around aimlessly in the air. Your heart flutters in your throat as you look down to see Jake grinning up at you, eyes crinkled up endearingly and mouth opened around a boisterous laugh. His hands are warm where they’re holding your waist tight, fingers splayed out against your skin.

Jake sets you back down, chest rising and falling rapidly with each breath he takes. Your skin feels impossibly warm even after he’s let you go, and you find yourself unable to look away from him. Against the backdrop of the sun, he looks like an angel.

Wordlessly, he holds out his cupped hand to yours, and you reach out to accept with wide eyes. When he pulls back, you see that he’s left two seashells in the dips of your palms, small and round in shape. The bigger of them is tawny and has a dipping crevice in the middle, while the other is a pristine white with several ridges along its arch. They’re beautiful.

“Do you still collect these?” Jake’s question makes the butterflies in your chest stir.

“I do,” you murmur, feeling oddly bashful that he remembers. “The box is under my bed in Melbourne.”

The same wooden box he’d gifted you for your 16th birthday once you told him you kept all the shells he’d been giving you.

The two of you abandon your blanket and sit on the patch of damp sand you’ve been standing over. The yolk of the sun has begun to slip behind the ocean’s horizon, coloring the water and sky a brilliant red and sending cascading pockets of light along the shore. Jake’s gaze follows the length of the skyline and you can’t help it that yours strays to him.

There’s a rough, pink scar bridging across the length of Jake’s shoulder, one that you’ve never seen before. You’re no stranger to Jake’s recklessness out in the ocean, but the long span of it is unlike the rest you’ve seen on his skin. From its color alone you’re able to tell that he’s gotten it recently, and it hasn’t quite healed yet.

“This one’s new,” he says as if reading your thoughts. Jolting, your eyes snap back to his face to find him looking at you knowingly. “I was too close to an inlet and lost control of my board.”

You hum in response, reaching out to brush your fingertips against the blemished skin. It’s jagged under your touch, warm from where the sun’s kissed it, and you ache to lean down and run your lips over it. Jake exhales softly, head tilting the slightest bit so he can watch you.

“You’ve always been a bit clumsy,” you joke breathlessly, in an attempt to disregard the weird squirming in your chest. But then Jake continues to stare at you silently, and you shift nervously, hand pausing to hover above his back. “Guess you haven’t changed all that much.”

“Neither have you,” Jake mumbles, eyes still caught on your face, “you still look at me like that.”

You burn to ask him what he means, but your heart is stuck in your throat and you don’t think you can speak without saying something you’ll regret.

Yet in a way, you don’t need to ask him what he means. You think there has never been any need for explanations like this. You love Jake, and that’s true without all of the complexities that the statement conjures up. Past or present.

The lapping waves at the shore flood your ears like cotton. Jake’s face is so, so close, and yet it feels like he’s too far away. Like he’s always been.

“Hey,” he whispers, but the word crashes louder in your ears than the waves. “Is it okay if I kiss you?”

You can’t speak, but the eagerness that bleeds into your nod is telling enough of just how you feel. Jake’s warm hand tenderly cups the side of your face to bring you closer, and right as another wave breaks onto the shore, his lips meet yours in an achingly gentle way.

He’s everything you remember– he tastes like ocean brine and spearmint gum and his favorite iced tea, remnants of the past and the future you’d yearned for. The calluses on his palm are familiar where they brush against your jaw as he angles your face to deepen the kiss, and you try not to practically whine into his mouth when his tongue slips past your lips.

Your hand travels up from his shoulder to tangle itself in his hair, weaving your fingers through his locks with an urgency that seems to throw both of you off guard. Jake giggles into the kiss when you tug at the hair at the nape of his neck, and you break off when you feel a string of laughter bubbling out of you in response.

“Wow,” he whistles, face adorably red as he tries to smooth his hair back into place. You snort at his predicament, though you suspect your own state isn’t much far off from his. When Jake reaches out to fix up your hair as well, you go quiet, watching him through your lashes.

The silence you lapse into is silent and comfortable, so unlike the standoffish moments you two shared just a few weeks earlier. The thought of how quickly things between you two changed startles you; you realize that you no longer think twice about all the intimate moments and touches you share with Jake, much less feel guilty for any of them.

The voice at the back of your head is no longer there to whisper incessant reminders of the past, reminders of things you should have never taken with you in your baggage to Melbourne.

“You hungry?” Jake’s question startles you back into the present, and without thinking, you nod eagerly once more. His answering laugh makes the tips of your ears burn red, but you’re far too focused on his proposition of food to care. “There’s a really nice diner in the next town over, and I’d love to take you there.”

“Okay, it’s a date,” you grin.

Jake grins back, and you decide there’s no use holding yourself back anymore. You love him.

☀

Jake’s last competition for the season is scheduled the week before you’re set to leave for Melbourne. It’s a big one– his biggest yet– and in the days leading up to it, you’re not able to catch much of him outside of your shop.

He visits twice. Once to pick up an extra emergency repair kit in case something unpredictable happens during his practice sessions, and once to buy his usual Crunchy Peanut Butter Clif Bar. He tells you he’ll save it for the morning of the competition, kissing you on the cheek and sprinting out the door before you can “distract him further”. Whatever that means.

In a way, you don’t look forward to the competition. It serves as a constant reminder that you’re bound to leave at any moment, and of everything wrong that can happen with Jake out on the ocean. Though every competition carries that same latter risk, this particular one required its attendees to take on some of the highest waves your region had seen in years.

You worried for Jake, and as selfish as it was, for what would come of you two after.

“Stop moping, Jake will still be able to give you dick over in Melbourne,” Sunoo had chastised you one night over dinner, flicking a pickle at you.

You’d dodged it, crumpling up a tissue and tossing it right back at him. “Yeah, but it won’t be the same!”

Sticking to tradition, your friend group had decided to gather one last time for dinner before the tournament day. Jake couldn’t make it– that much was customary, too– and you found yourself glancing at the empty spot in the booth one too many times while eating.

It seemed like you couldn’t avoid talking about your fickle future with Jake, much less thinking about it. You knew that there was another conversation due soon, one which you refused to bother Jake with until he was finished with the season. But it was beginning to eat at you from the inside, slowly gnawing through your defense built on friends’ reassurances.

You’d just finally gotten ahold of Jake again, you weren’t ready to give him up so easily.

The shore is more crowded than you’ve ever seen it. Despite arriving relatively early to the tournament grounds, you and your friends had found the sand chaotically packed, with the only remaining spots to spread out a blanket being near the very back. Stopping by the slanted wooden walkway that leads down to the beach, you survey the entire length of the shore, hoping to find a spot with open space.

“Are you sure we’ve got the right place?” Heeseung frowns at the crowd, scrunching his nose up when a kid screams. Sunghoon shrugs, moving to check his phone.

“Surfing’s a big deal guys,” Sunoo chastises, “what? You don’t believe all these people are here for Jake?”

“I don’t think it’s that,” Jay sets down the cooler he’s holding, stretching his arms out with a groan. “I’ve lived here my whole life and I’ve never seen any beach this packed ever. Even when they had that free-entry hippie festival last summer.”

“There’s literally a poster,” you deadpan, pointing to the information bulletin board off to the side. Half of the board is taken up by a familiar, colorful poster, the same one your entire friend group had adamantly reposted onto your Instagram stories for days, plastered onto its surface. You resist the urge to laugh when a collective ohhh follows at your revelation.

Slowly but surely, your group makes it down to the beach with all of your belongings and elaborate signs, all donning Jake’s signature blue. The competitors are nowhere to be seen, so any plans of seeing Jake before everything begins are thrown out the window. You manage to squeeze yourselves further inward, not quite toward the front, but it’s better than the view you’d have to settle for in the very back.

As all of you busy yourselves with setting up the umbrella and blankets, Sunghoon slips away with the promise of returning with cold drinks. But by the time he makes it back, the audience has gotten impossibly larger, and the cardboard trays in both of his hands begin to teeter as he tries to nudge past the thickening crowd. Sunoo laughs at him, but is quick to rush over and take one of the trays into his own hold.

“This tournament’s for the entire Sunshine Coast,” Sunghoon says in a huff, passing around a plastic cup to everyone. “It’s the biggest event for surfing held in this region in decades. No wonder it’s so crowded.”

“Thanks Hoonie,” you smile. The drink is some odd concoction of fruit punch and other sweet juices you can’t recognize, but it’s refreshing and cold so it’s the most delicious thing to you.

Sunghoon nods, finding purchase on the blanket next to you. He takes a swig of his own drink and pulls back to watch the ice clink around in the cup. “The finalists from today are going to attend Nationals in Sydney. South Bondi, or something like that. That’s what the barista told me.”

Your eyes go impossibly wide, and you almost choke on the liquid in your mouth. Sunghoon pats you on the back while you cough it out, and you put your drink down lest you spill it over yourself. “Nationals? Fuck, I feel like I should know if my boyfriend is trying to qualify for Nationals…”

Jake had mentioned that the gravity of the tournament was greater than any of the previous ones he’d been part of, but you had absolutely no recollection of him mentioning the word nationals. You’re certain you know why he didn’t– the worry swelling in your gut is telling enough. But it’s followed with a burst of pride in your chest that makes you feel so giddy you’re sure the grin on your face looks stupid.

Once your coughing fit’s over, you reach down to pick up your cup and take another sip. But it’s then that you sense four pairs of eyes on you, and you look over to find your friends gawking at you. You curl in on yourself subconsciously, grin slowly melting at their expressions. “…What?”

“Boyfriend?” Sunoo all but yells, breaking the silence. The people around you throw weird looks in your direction, but you don’t pay them any mind.

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You surmise that the dramatics aren’t unprompted in this situation because you truly hadn’t found a way to break your friends the news yet either, but could anyone blame you? In your eyes, there was no subtle way of announcing it.

“Ha! Heeseung, you owe me 100 bucks,” Jay claps, reaching to high five you. You return the gesture with an exasperated face, not too keen on being stuck between their childish feuds.

Heeseung dishes out the money from his wallet with a sour expression, handing it to Jay and shoving a middle finger in his face.

“No one’s going to congratulate her?” Sunghoon finally speaks up, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Shame on all of you.” Turning to you, he whispers, “Congrats, by the way.”

The other’s enthusiastic good wishes follow suit, and you can’t help the jaw-aching smile that splits your face. You pick up your cup and chase the last of the liquid in there, both to hide your grin and to quench your growing thirst.

By now, you’d gotten more than used to the routine of surf tournaments. You knew when to expect different sections, how long you’d be able to watch Jake out in the waves, and when to anticipate the final minutes. As the music from the judge’s panel diminishes and is replaced by a cheery, high-pitched voice, you sit back against the blanket and get comfortable.

The participants are all introduced with grandiose speeches that make the speakers crackle from the deafening volume. You make sure to whoop and holler extra loud when Jake Sim is announced, squinting against the beaming sun to try and spot his face among the line of surfers.

Jake clears all of his heats with an astounding performance and form. The audience oohs in tandem with each of his moves, and you have to prop yourself up on your knees halfway through to be able to properly see your boyfriend. You cheer and clap animatedly after he completes each series, heart beating faster with each swelling wave that he meets.

The judging panel also seems to love him. From the way they refuse to break their staring while he’s out on the waves to write anything, to the way they mumble amongst each other with dazed looks on their faces after every particularly difficult trick, you can’t help but feel proud. It’s almost disappointing watching him paddle toward shore and give way to the competitor after him.

Despite the intimidating waves, Jake handles himself well and is able to clear through his routine with ease. He doesn’t lose control of his board even for a moment, braving into the highest waves you’d ever seen him take on. The other participants also seemed to be doing well– though not quite as well as Jake– and you find yourself applauding and cheering after some particularly hard routines.

You think it should come as no surprise to anyone on that packed shore that Jake scores a remarkable lead in first place. He carries the highest wave scores throughout most of the tournament, only bettering them further as the heats pass. You get to watch him perform moves you’d never seen before, moves you’d only seen on the news performed by Australia’s best. He’s truly breathtaking in the water– you know you’d think this no matter who he was to you.

The awards ceremony almost makes you burst into tears. Jake’s gold medal is handed over by the main judge, who shakes his hand and pats him on the back as Jake accepts it with a deep bow. He reaches over to wrap his arms around the shoulders of the competitors who’d won second and third place, congratulating them with an earnest smile. When the flashes from the photographers become impossible to ignore, Jake turns to the cameras and brings his medal up to his mouth, biting down on it cheekily.

The crowd doesn’t begin to thin out for a long while. You’re not able to reach Jake until half an hour after the ceremony’s ended, your boyfriend occupied with on-the-spot interviews and eager fans waiting for a photo together. Meanwhile, Sunoo and Jay race back to the car to bring out the bouquet and balloons that you’d brought to surprise Jake.

When Jake is finally able to attend to his personal matters, he all but runs barefoot on the sand towards you, opening his arms in warning once he’s close enough. You yelp at the tight hug you’re all but swept up into, feet kicking out in the air under you when Jake lifts you and begins spinning you. 

“I’m so happy right now!” He shouts toward the sky, voice breathy from exhilaration.

“I’m so proud of you!” You shout back, ruffling his damp hair. The fringe falls into his face and you push it back so you can lean down and kiss him.

“I take back my congratulations,” Heeseung speaks up from behind you, and Jake sticks his tongue out at him before putting you down carefully. He moves to pat your boyfriend on the back, grin so wide it takes up half his face. “Just kidding. That was sick Jake, you killed it out there.”

Sunghoon and Jay echo the statement and barrel into Jake’s sides to hug him, wrangling him into their holds so they can hold him up in the air. Jake doesn’t even bother fighting against them, accepting the inevitable with a fond grin and rolling his eyes once they let up and put him back on the sand.

“And obviously he’s going to kill it in Sydney too,” Sunoo brandishes the bouquet from behind his back, holding it out for Jake to take.

Jake’s face flushes cutely as he accepts the flowers and balloons, posing for photos as you whip out your phone. The thin gold metal sits like a sun against his chest, illuminated with beams as you instruct Jake to turn toward the horizon. You decide that you’re going to set this one as your homescreen later.

As a few more of Jake’s friends from the academy come up to him to personally congratulate him, you hang back and watch him with a smile. Despite growing up, learning more tricks, and climbing his way to your region’s top spots, Jake’s humble attitude hadn’t changed. He still met the hand of fellow surfers and treated them like equals despite any rankings, refusing to let anyone put him up on an invisible pedestal.

The shore has somewhat cleared out by now, most of the people remaining being the competitors themselves and their friends and families. It’s no longer hot enough to make you feel like bursting, and you decide to jog down to the water to dip your feet into the ocean. The water’s cool against your warm skin, the tiny waves lapping at your ankles in rhythmic motions as you stand there and soak in the last of the afternoon sun.

Jake joins you along with the rest of your friends sometime later. You all stand ankle-deep in the water quietly, and when you look over at them, you can’t help the fond grin that blooms on your face.

“Are we celebrating at Auntie Lee’s?” Heeseung suddenly breaks the silence, and you can’t help but burst into laughter.

“We could,” Sunghoon shrugs. “Or we could just hang out here for a while.”

“Jake and I will join you guys later,” you say shyly, reaching for Jake’s hand. “I have to steal him away for a bit right now.”

“Thanks, I just threw up a little bit in my mouth,” Jay faux-gags, pretending to vomit. You pay him no mind.

You and Jake bid your friends goodbye with the premise that they’ll join you later and load his surfboard onto his car. When you finally set off toward your aunt’s shop, you heave a sigh of relief and lean back in the seat. The air conditioner’s broken now, meaning you have to rely on a crammed open window for pockets of fresh air, but even amidst the sweltering heat of the late afternoon, you’ve never felt better.

“I’m hoping that’s a good sigh,” Jake speaks up from the driver’s seat, “I’m driving as fast as the law allows me to, we’re almost there.”

Snorting, you lean against the door in an attempt to catch as much of the breeze filtering in. It’s a bit tricky, given that most of the surface is hot from sitting in the sun. “It’s good, I promise. Just really happy that everything went well with your tournament. And that I have you all to myself now.”

The food you’d prepared for him earlier in the day is sitting in the kitchen, lidded and ready to be portioned out. You and Sunghoon had dug out your aunt’s fancy dinner plates from the basement and cleaned them off for the occasion, setting the table with them in a manner decidedly too formal now that you’re looking at it again. There’s even a candle in the middle, awfully regal in its glass holder and waiting to be lit.

Jake snorts, but it’s fond. He loops an arm around your shoulder and kisses your cheek. “You didn’t have to do all of this for me.”

“I felt like cooking something nice for myself,” you tease. Kissing his cheek back, you move to shrug him off of you so you can sit down. “It just happened that your tournament was also today. Don’t let it get to your head.”

“How can I not when my girlfriend prepared a feast for me,” Jake exclaims, sitting down next to you and rubbing his hands. He peers closer at the dishes, eyes going wide at the contents of a particular pot. “Dude, galbitang? Just say you want to marry me and go.”

Your ears feel impossibly hot as you reach for the ladle and begin pouring some of the soup into your bowl. “Hey, less talking, more eating.”

If Jake notices your flushed face, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he silently reaches out with his chopsticks to begin filling your plate with the dumplings you’d made.

As much as you’d like to, the meal is too hefty for you to jump Jake straight after. Once the both of you finish eating and put away the remaining food, you wound up in your aunt’s living room, on her vintage floral couch that’s draped with a nostalgic white sheet.

Jake laughs when he sees it, carefully sitting in the middle so as not to get onto the actual couch. “God, I remember sitting here when we were kids, and your aunt wouldn’t let us watch TV unless we kept the couch covered.”

“I swear no one’s actually touched the real surface of the couch since she bought it in the 90s,” you groan as you settle into the cushions next to Jake. You feel pleasantly groggy, like you could fall asleep at any minute, and it doesn’t help that Jake is so warm and comfortable. “Remember that one time we tried sneaking in TimTams to eat here? I’ve never seen her angrier.”

“That was your idea, by the way, and second, I think she was angrier when we tried to hose down her roses in the backyard. Why were we so evil as kids?” Jake’s head finds its way onto your shoulder, and you try not to shake as you giggle.

Looking at the black TV screen across from you, you make out the matching smiles on both of your faces. It makes your stomach swoop, but you don’t think it’s from the good food you just had. Closing your eyes, you breathe in Jake’s shampoo and sigh. “I miss her a lot, I can’t wait for her to be back.”

You don’t notice you’ve begun dozing off until Jake startles next to you from a buzz in his pocket. Confused, you straighten up and watch as he looks down at his phone with a frown, rubbing at his eyes.

“Shit, Sunghoon texted me that they’re going to be back soon,” he mumbles.

“That sucks,” you say.

The two of you stare at each other for five still seconds, before Jake tosses his phone behind him on the couch and you practically pounce on him. You stagger onto your feet and pull Jake up with you, laughing as you all but race to your room down the hallway. Pushing open the door, you loop your arms around his neck and bring him in for a needy kiss, one you’ve been holding back all afternoon.

Jake shuts the door behind both of you, giggling against your lips when you huff impatiently. Your fingers sidle up under the hem of his shirt, brushing urgently against the heated skin you find. It was getting harder and harder to reel your self control back in around him, and now that you two were alone, you could barely resist jumping him like a predator. But who could blame you?

You also barely resist the triumphant noise that teeters behind your lips once Jake finally relents and takes his shirt off. It’s discarded somewhere in a corner of your room, forgotten as soon as it’s out of your sight. Your hands are back on him quicker than he can turn around, and when he leans down to press his lips against yours again, you feel him smile into the kiss.

“Jake,” you pant, palms drifting up his back with newfound desperation, “Jake, please.”

“Please what?” He teases, breaking off into a surprised groan when you lean down to bite his neck, suckling on the skin and running your tongue over the purpling bruise you leave behind.

Neglecting him of an answer, you continue your venture down his neck until you reach his collarbones. His hands are purposeful where they dip under your shirt to paw at the skin of your tummy and lower back, nudging the material higher and higher until you break off from his neck to take it off altogether.

Jake doesn’t let you continue marking him– instead, he’s the one that incessantly attaches his lips to your chest, tongue lathing over your nipple leisurely. His hand envelopes your other breast and kneads it while your breathing grows laborious, your head falling back as you weave your fingers through his hair. When he switches his attention to your other nipple, you decide you’ve waited long enough.

“If you don’t do something more I’m seriously going to explode,” you warn him, pulling him away from your chest. Jake barks a laugh, wiping at the spit on his chin with the back of his hand before letting you lead him toward your bed.

You fall backwards on the mattress easily, Jake towering over you with heady eyes. He picks up where he left off, plush lips dipping between your breasts and traveling further down with fervent motions.

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles against the skin of your hip. The warmth fanning from his breath makes you go lax in his hold, and you hazily blink up at the ceiling in an effort to ground yourself.

His nimble fingers slip under the edges of your shorts, and with one quick look at your desperate nods, he begins tugging the material, along with your underwear, down your legs. Discarding the garment somewhere behind him, he hooks one of your knees over his shoulder, angling your other thigh outwards until you’re comfortably spread out for him. You inhale sharply at the cold air that meets your sensitive area, but the feeling is short-lived.

Jake leans in with an eagerness that has your breath catching in your throat. His lips suction right on your clit, and it takes every effort within you not to buck your hips wantonly into the feeling. His free hand settles warmly on your hip bone like a promise, holding you down against the sheets with a strength that only makes you squirm more.

Whining, you try to slow your breathing as his calloused fingers travel up your inner thigh and brush against your sopping entrance teasingly, where they catch strings of your growing arousal. You’re not normally this sensitive, already wriggling and gasping at the mere brush of his touch, but you reason that it’s because it’s him touching you.

You tense as one of his forefingers prods into you, slowly at first, then with a cocky certainty that makes you see stars. He sinks it into you until his last knuckle, curling it against your walls with growing fervor as you relax in his hold. As Jake adds a second finger, you reach out to weave your fingers through his locks, mewling when his grip on your hips tightens.

“I missed you so much,” he hums into your cunt between rolls of his tongue, groaning when you tug on his hair. “Fuck, you’ve been driving me crazy for such a long time. Can’t believe you’re finally mine again.”

Something in your chest squeezes, and you look down at him with glassy eyes.

It’s a sight that knocks the breath out of you. Jake’s eyes meet yours over the curve of your abdomen, and he takes the moment to lewdly spit directly onto your clit. He massages the saliva with tight figure eight motions, and combined with the rhythmic pumping from his other hand, it makes you feel like you’ll burst.

“I’m close,” you whisper, voice raw and spent. You feel strung out, like you’ve been stuck on the verge of an orgasm for an hour, when it probably has been five minutes at most.

Jake’s fingers squelch when he speeds up his motions, lapping incessantly at your clit as you continue to writhe helplessly. He looks up at you with dark eyes, fingers curling at just the right angle, and it’s enough to send you over the edge.

You come with a drawn-out whine, fingers clutching at his hair with desperation. You feel your thighs quiver before they settle on the mattress around Jake, exhaling deeply as you lean back into the sheets to calm down.

“Holy shit,” you laugh, covering your face as Jake crawls up next to you. He kisses the back of your hands, peppering more kisses along your arms, chest, neck, and whatever parts of your face he can reach. It only makes you giggle more, shying away from his affection with a racing heart.

“So good to me,” he mumbles, finally pressing his lips to yours. You sigh, looping your arms around his neck and leaning into his adoring touch with uncharacteristic bashfulness. Jake holds you like you’re made out of china, like you’re something precious, and the implications of that make your own heart throb with fondness.

Pulling away from the kiss, you push back on his chest gently, shuffling around so that you can sit up. “Lay down, I wanna ride you.”

You crawl over to one of your bedside drawers, tugging the top compartment open and feeling around until you can find what you’re looking for. As Jake leans back against the headboard and makes quick work of discarding his pants and boxers, you fish out the condom and join him so you can perch yourself on his lap. You tear open the foil, discarding it somewhere off to the side, and hold it up between you two like a gem.

“You’ve been planning for this, huh?” He teases, but you ignore him in favor of rolling the condom down his length. He watches you all the while, sucking in air through his teeth when you touch a particularly sensitive part of him.

“It’s hard not to when my boyfriend is so hot,” you answer, leaning down to kiss him again. His hands settle on your hips, and when you grind down on him experimentally, he practically moans into your mouth.

Leaning back on his lap, you reach down to align him with your entrance, pouting when your first two attempts to press him in fail. He’s awfully slippery with the lubricated condom, and you’re awfully nervous about the whole situation, so it’s no wonder your hands shake as you attempt to do it again. You let out a frustrated laugh, frowning when his cock flops back onto his stomach and you’re left hovering above his lap.

“Let me,” he whispers, gripping his length and holding your hip attentively. He pushes his tip in slowly, eyes trained on your face for any signs of discomfort, and biting his lip as he sinks further. About halfway in, you feel him pause reluctantly, and you hiss as you clench around him.

“Love, you’ve got to relax. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away from him when you feel your face begin to burn from embarrassment. Jake’s hands envelop your sides to bring you close to him, and you bury yourself in his shoulder as he slips out from underneath you. “I’m just really nervous. Don’t want to mess this up.”

His hand begins to draw patient, comforting circles on your lower back. You feel your breaths begin to even out, along with your racing heart, and you turn your head to leave grateful kisses along Jake’s neck. He shudders and hugs you tighter. “You’re okay. Let me know when you’re ready.”

And that’s the thing– because despite running from your feelings, running from him, Jake has never once let his patience run thin with you. He’s always been right there, waiting for you to come back, waiting for you to love him back with the same certainty that he always has.

It feels entirely unfair. But as you look back at his glittering eyes, at the handfuls of adoration in each of them, you feel your jitteriness slip away and become replaced with wholehearted sureness.

“I’m ready,” you say with conviction, pulling back to rest your hands on his toned chest. “Jake Sim, I’m about to rock your fucking world.”

Jake’s laughter sounds like bells in the springtime. He leans back to watch you push him back in, letting out a drawn-out sigh when he bottoms out and the backs of your thighs meet his hips. The shaky moan that slips from you feels too loud in the quietness of your bedroom, but you can't find it in you to feel shy as Jake’s cock drags leisurely against your walls.

Despite how weak you feel, you’re able to build up a steady rhythm with your hips. With each downward thrust, you revel in the way Jake’s eyes follow you, and in the soft sounds that are coaxed out of his mouth. You reach out to push away the fringe that has fallen into his face, cupping his face for a brief moment before your hand snakes down between your bodies to rub at your clit.

You keen at the feeling, but your fingers are quickly replaced by Jake’s own, which nudge at the bundle of nerves with growing urgency. His hips are rocking back up in tandem with your thrusts, eyebrows furrowed and lips wrapped around a breathy moan that reverberates around the room and makes the heat in your stomach triple.

You feel like a mess; you’re breathing heavy and your skin’s all sweaty and your thighs are burning with the effort to make both of you feel good. But Jake looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and it makes you forget about everything else.

“I’m really close,” you breathily laugh. Your hips begin to stutter as you feel the growing wave in your abdomen swell higher and higher with each of your motions, slowly losing all sense of coordination. Jake doesn’t seem to mind all too much though.

“Me too,” he mumbles the sentiment. The flush on his face has spread to his neck and chest, a pleasant rhubarb shade that you can make out even in the darkness. He’s so lovely, and all yours.

Jake’s thumb on your clit hastily adds more pressure as your breath quickens. Your vision grows blurry at the edges but you can’t look away from Jake, whose eyes are boring into yours.

“Jake, I’m so close, m’cumming, God, please, Jake–” your babbling is cut off when your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, pulling you under and rendering you breathless. You distantly feel your thighs shake around Jake’s hips as you ride it out, followed by a drawn out groan from his side when he hits his own high.

Your heart is pounding in your ears when you slip Jake out of you, and you barely have enough energy to roll off of him before flopping down on the bed. You still don’t quite feel like you’re on the ground, brain all mushy and struggling to piece the night’s events together. A part of you is convinced you’re dreaming, if the hazy ringing in your ears is anything to go by.

“Sweet girl,” Jake coos, brushing the hair that’s gotten in your face. He reaches over the side of the bed to fish his underwear out from the messy pile, tugging the briefs on and standing up. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

The ceiling of your room is bleached a moon white from the light streaming in outside. You listen with a racing heart and heaving chest as Jake rummages around in your bathroom, returning seconds later with a damp rag in hand. He maneuvers your legs around so he can wipe up the worst of your mess, gently hushing you when you whine from the drag of it against your sensitive skin.

“I really hope Sunghoon and the others aren’t back yet,” he quietly giggles, discarding the rag off to the side once he’s cleaned himself up.

“We warned them earlier,” you mumble sleepily. You can already feel an ache settling into your knees and lower back, but decide that it’s a problem for tomorrow’s you to worry about.

Jake lays down next to you and props himself up on his elbow to look at you. Even in the bleak darkness, you can make out the way his eyes won’t drift away from you, the way their edges crinkle when you giggle. Feeling shy, you pull the blanket up to your chin and try to hide behind it.

Jake doesn’t take any of it though. He slips right under the blanket with you, fingers immediately reaching for your sides to try and tickle you. You give up almost immediately, shrieking with laughter and begging him to stop while your feet thrash around.

“You can’t hog the whole thing,” he laughs, “I’m getting cold out here!”

Instead of answering, you drop the blanket on top of both of you and use your free arm to loop around his neck, bringing him in for a tight hug. You nudge your face into his bare chest and kiss him on one of his older scars, whose outline is so faint you can barely make it out anymore.

“How are you feeling?” Jake whispers.

He moves to wrap an arm around your waist and you throw one of your legs over his hips. He’s warm, and you can faintly hear his thrumming heart and each breath he takes. His hand is pleasant against your lower back where he traces meaningless shapes into the curve of your spine.

“I love you so much,” you answer. And you mean it.

Jake’s hand continues without pause, and you think you feel him smile against the top of your head. His lips are soft where they press a kiss to your hair.

“I love you too,” he says. And you know he means it.

☀

Melbourne Central has always felt like hell, but today it seems exceptionally so.

You’d think the entire city has spilled into the railway station at once with how crowded the platforms are, each person practically shoulder to shoulder with the next. After an entire day of traveling, you’re beyond spent and in desperate need to be back home, so it’s with tired feet that you attempt to trudge through the chaos.

“Don’t get lost on me now,” you hear Jake’s familiar voice from next to you, and the weight from your luggage on your hand disappears. “Hold onto me, I need to make sure I deliver you in one piece or Sunghoon’s going to kill me.”

You loop your arm around Jake’s bicep and wince as he maneuvers the both of you through the crowd. Both of you begin to sound like broken records with how often you’re mumbling pardon us and different variations of sorry as you squeeze yourselves past different groups of people. Overhead, the announcer’s monotone voice about a delayed train arrival blends into the amalgamated mess of noise in the station, and you swear you’re going to go insane if you don’t get out of there fast.

Outside, the pleasant autumn sun has you squinting up at the sky and reveling in the fresh air that greets you. Jake tells you that the taxi he ordered is here, and you have only a few seconds to take in the world around you before you’re being whisked away again. As you haul your luggage into the back of the car and cram into the back with your boyfriend, you lean over to watch the city pass you by through the window and tune everything else out.

It’s weird, being in the same position you were in just a few months ago. Familiar buildings fly you by but you’re no longer stricken by grief or holding back tears as you watch them disappear. The feeling in your chest is bittersweet– you’re looking back on this summer with a smile and a warm heart. You’d reconciled with everything you’d been avoiding, and came back with more than you could’ve ever hoped for.

“We’re here,” Jake says, and you blink your hazy thoughts away. Looking over, you find that he has one of your hands in his own, thumb smoothing over your skin gently as if he can read your mind. You smile, squeeze his hand, and step out of the taxi.

Against your complaints, Jake takes on doing most of the work of taking your luggage up to your apartment. He doesn’t let you carry any of the heavier bags, rushing to grab them once he’s hauled them out of the taxi before you can even reach for them. You’re left trailing behind him, trying not to make your leering too obvious as his arms bulge under the weight of your luggage.

The door to your apartment opens with a high-pitched squeak. You trudge in slowly, taking in the sun-lit hall with wide eyes. It’s exactly like you remember leaving it, but now Jake’s standing in the middle of the tiny space, looking around with a grin so earnest it makes your heart swell. You know that it’s only a matter of time before everything here reminds you of him too.

“We’ve got some cleaning to do,” Jake notes as he passes by the dusty shelf in your living room. Looking out the floor-length window that takes up the entirety of one of the walls, he whistles and turns to you with his face lit up. You distantly think it reminds you of a smiling dog, only that his tongue isn’t out. “Yo, this view’s crazy! You can see so much of the center from here. I’d kill to be waking up to this every morning.”

“We do have some nice surfing spots a short drive away,” the implications of your words are clear as day, and Jake’s eyes narrow at you playfully. “What? I’m just saying.”

Jake looks out the window again, humming as his eyes trace the edges of the buildings that stand out against the horizon. You feel a bit nervous being so brazen with your future intentions, but everything Jake’s said and done so far has led you to believe he’s on the same page. “I’ll think about it when I finish this term. I’m serious about getting my degree, but I’m not against seeing your pretty face when I come home every day.”

Nodding, you try not to let the excitement bleed out onto your face, but it’s impossible when Jake’s words sound like a promise. “Hey, when do you need to go back for uni, anyway?”

“My term doesn’t start for another week,” he glances back at you and pouts. “Why are you trying to get rid of me so soon?”

You can feel the tips of your ears reddening and you quickly shake your head. “No no, I just wanted to make sure you don’t end up missing your own important stuff. I’d want you to stay here forever if it were up to me.”

“Right,” Jake drawls, and he rounds the couch to attach himself to your back. You feel every curve of him pressed up against you, and with the way his arms snake around your waist and his hands inch under your shirt, you know exactly where this is headed. “Just so you know, you couldn’t get rid of me even if you wanted to.”

“And just so you know, the building in front of us can see everything through these windows,” you say, but Jake’s hands remain incriminatingly low on your hips.

You feel the sigh of his laughter fan out against your neck and your breath hitches. “That’s fine, you’ve still gotta show me your bedroom anyway. So I know where to put our bags.”

“Mhm,” you agree, and the disappointed noise you make when he lets go of you is embarrassingly loud. Jake giggles, and you waste no time in dragging him by the wrist through your apartment.

“My bed’s big enough for the both of us, so you can just sleep with me while you’re here,” you open your bedroom door and usher Jake in after you. It’s cute how nervous he looks standing around, unsure of where to sit or what to look at first. “And stop making that face! You’d think I kidnapped you and I’m holding you hostage.”

After enough coaxing and changing into clean clothes, you and Jake both end up sitting on the edge of your bed, but his mannerisms are still telling of how anxious he feels. His movements are all jittery and his hands run repeatedly over his knees, almost like he’s wiping the sweat off his palms. “It’s just crazy to think about the fact that you have a whole different life here. I don’t know where I’m supposed to fit in, and it’s really hitting me now that I’m actually here, y’know?”

“Jake,” you softly prompt him to look at you, frowning when his eyes meet yours and you see the same uncertainty that you were struggling with in them. You cup his face gently and thumb at the skin of his cheek, whispering, “I can promise you that you’ve got nothing to worry about. There’s more than enough space for you in my life. There always has been.”

With the way he leans into your touch, you can tell that he believes you.

You both lay back against the mattress, if only to rest for a second before you know you’ll have to inevitably get up again. But before you can move to sit up, Jake’s hovering above you with a knowing grin, and you can’t complain much as he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s soft at first, nothing more, but then he’s cupping your jaw and slipping his tongue in between your lips and you know where this is headed.

“We should unpack first,” you half-heartedly mumble between kisses. Jake begins kissing down your neck, and you groan, head falling backwards. Your words come out increasingly less convincing with each vowel, until there’s absolutely zero conviction in everything you’re saying. “We should really… we’ll be too lazy later…”

“That’s no way to welcome your guest,” Jake pouts against your skin. 

You let him continue venturing down your neck until he’s slipping the shoulder of your t-shirt off, eager to get his mouth on your chest, when you startle in his hold and make him pause. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just have something to show you,” you laugh, sitting up and scooting to the edge of your bed. You clamber down onto the ground and look under your bed, reaching out to unearth the box you’d suddenly remembered.

“The box of seashells you gave me,” you tell Jake. You place the box carefully on your bed and begin to rummage through your backpack for the ones he’d given you right before kissing you.

The box is a tiny wooden thing with a metal clasp in the front that opens with a bit of force. You open it and let Jake peek inside, placing your newest additions inside with careful hands. Jake’s jaw is slack as his fingers poke at the different seashells you’d accumulated over the years of knowing him, bottom lip jutting out as he turns to look at you.

“You really kept all of them,” he mumbles in awe.

“Well I wasn’t going to throw them away.” You joke, closing the box and placing it on your nightstand. “Besides, they meant a lot to me. Still do.”

Wordlessly, Jake leans down to kiss your exposed shoulder. He rests his cheek against the skin there, and you reach out to card one of your hands through his unruly hair. It’s not damp from the ocean or sandy after one of his surfing sessions. It’s soft under your fingers, tousled after a long day of traveling, and it smells faintly of mint. 

“You know what I think?”

Jake hums questioningly, peering up at you through his lashes.

“I think we should shower. Then continue where we left off, if you still want, and then nap. Like for a while. And then we can go to that diner down the street I kept telling you about.”

Jake smiles against your shoulder and leans up to kiss you on the nose. You cup one of his cheeks and thumb at the faint freckle near his temple. He looks beautiful, like all of the sunsets you’d seen in your hometown, all of the seashells you’d collected, and all of the roses in your aunt’s backyard.

The edge of Jake’s lips quirks up at your offer. You kiss him before you can respond, and revel in the dazed look and breathy response you draw from him. He’s beautiful, and all yours. “Yeah, I think that sounds like a great idea.”

author's note: if you've read all the way down to here i hope your pillow is cold on both sides, always. i worked very hard on this baby and i hope that whoever reads it enjoys it at least a fraction of the amount that i enjoyed writing it 🤍 if you did enjoy, leave a comment and reblog, it means the world to me!!! support your writers!

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#enhypen fic #jake smut #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen hard hours #enhypen headcanons #enhypen x reader #jake angst #jake x reader #jake fluff #enhypen scenarios #enha imagines #enha fanfic #enha fluff #enha smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen jake #enha jake #enha x reader #heeseung smut #jay smut #sunghoon smut #nightdiary.writes #sim jaeyun #sim jake #jaeyun smut

[bluriki]

ꪆৎ two days ﹫ lhs

; pair bf!heeseung x fem!reader ; sum all you need is heeseung to tell you he loves you ; genre fluff , f2l , not proofread

it took you two days to realize how much heeseung loved you. he never said it, you deemed it was because you both were friends. best friends at that. best friends weren't supposed to fall in love yet that's what happened.

two days ago heeseung was drying your hair after a shower you desperately needed. it had rained that day and you begged heeseung to come play outside with you. it mightve been then that you realized you loved him too.

heeseung used your blow dryer to dry your hair. his fingers gently ran through your hair softly as the warm air blew against your scalp. he made sure that you hair was all dry before turning the blow dryer off and brushing out the tangles one last time.

he looked so content doing your hair. if someone would've walked in on you they would've thought it was a normal occurrence. they would've been fooled into thinking your six year friendship was something more.

the next day heeseung came over to your apartment, fast food bags in his hand. when you opened the door for him he lifted the bags with a soft smile placed in his face. "hungry?" he asked in a soft tone. of course you were hungry, you'd never skip a meal with heeseung.

that evening had been eventful. giggles faded into the air as heeseung told you his horrible horrible dad jokes. smiles were placed on both your faces that night. you noticed something in heeseungs eyes as he looked at you. was it fondness, affection, or was it all your imagination? you didn't know. you thought you'd never figure it out.

you hadn't seen heeseung today but you were dying to. you had finally figured out his feelings for you. he didn't have to tell you he loved you for you to know he did. it was all so obvious yet you were so blind you missed all the signs.

those days he held you as you cried to some silly drama and screamed at the evil characters, those were the days you wanted to relive with heeseung. but just without the friend title.

you wanted to live those with the lovers title. you wanted everyone to know how much you meant to heeseung and how much he meant to you. you wanted to share the most simplest moments with him.

you wanted to brush your teeth and wash your face before going to bed with him. you wanted to sing karaoke with him in your small living room, giggling as your voice cracks on the high note.

you wanted him to teach you how to dance the most intricate dance just so his body could be pressed to yours and end up slow dancing in the silent evening. you wanted him to know how foolish you were not picking up on his hints. you wanted him to know you loved him.

a soft ring of your phone interrupted your train of thought. you searched for your phone on the couch, finally finding it and looking at the ID.

a smile made its way on your lips as you answered the phone. but it was quickly swiped off when you heard what heeseung said. "can you open the door, i've been knocking for the past five minutes."

immediately you ran to the front door, opening it up just to see the person you wanted to see the most. "hi." he said, a perfect smile laced onto his lips. you smiled before stepping back to let him in.

"what are you doing here?" you didn't think just seeing heeseung would make your heart do flips but i guess you were wrong.

"can i not come see my best friend?" he asked with a smirk on his lips. your face flushed but it all fell down when you registered his last two words.

you just wanted him to ask you out already. you wanted him to pull you in his arms and kiss your forehead.

maybe it was because you had thought long and hard about the fact that he loved you, but you muttered some words you never thought you would say out loud.

"am i just a best friend to you?" okay, that was not good. heeseungs face fell the second you finished your question. you heard him shuffle in front of you, not allowing yourself to look at him.

"what do you mean?" he asked with a shaky voice. you could hear the way his voice shook as he answered you with a question.

"you think of me more than a friend, right?" you noticed the way heeseungs adams apple moved up and down as he gulped. you noticed the way his ears turned a bright red.

"where did you hear that?" he asked with an awkward laugh. you felt your heart stop for a second. he looked nervous and you hated it.

"you can tell me, im not one who would stop being your friend, you know that, right?" heeseung nodded. he looked down and took a deep breath.

"i do... uh i do think of you as more than a friend—" he took another breath before raising his eyes to meet your eyes. "—but i didn't tell you because i thought you'd leave. i can't live without you. you mean way too much to just have you walk out of my life."

you stopped breathing. hearing the words fall from his lips made everything feel real. you took a shaky breath before stepping forward.

"me too." you smiled softly. "i think of you more than a friend. i realized when you dried my hair the other day." you looked down, fingers playing with each other.

"i'd like to try with you." you whispered. you heard heeseung take a breath in. "only if you want." you added, scared of his response. heeseung took your hand in his and stepped forward. "then we should try."

the soft smile on his face spoke millions of words. everything was gonna be okay. you smiled happily and crushed him in big a hug.

🎬 노트 && . i randomly write this last week bc i had nothing better to do, its not the best but i hope you enjoyed bc this writers block is killing me

🧷 perm tl && . send ask or comment to be added

#‎‎‎‎‎‎ 777 ৎ 리본 #k-labels #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung fluff #heeseung imagines #heeseung drabbles #heeseung fic #heeseung x reader #heeseung enhypen #heeseung oneshots #heeseung scenarios #heeseung soft hours #heeseung x you #heeseung x yn #heeseung blurbs #enhypen heeseung

[starstruckmoony]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

thank you for this request anon!! i am so so so sorry for taking longer than i should have but i've just been all over the place with requests and in just general this past week 😭 so yeah i am a little late but i hope you're feeling better and that this meets your expectations <333333

in between.

masterlist , requests

pairing - theodore nott x slytherin!reader

trope/tags - fluff

word count - 1.7k

warnings - descriptive period pains

waking up in time for class was always difficult for you. not even because you were lazy or didn't care about your grades enough, but mostly because theodore, your boyfriend and number one favourite person in the world, had an annoying little habit of staying inside of your room until pansy chased him out because she wanted her beauty sleep. most of the time, that would be somewhere around two in the morning. and you had to get up at six. four hours of sleep. wonderful. usually, you didn't mind. you didn't like getting out of bed, anyway.

but this morning, you very much minded. your eyes snapped open, you weren't entirely sure what had woken you up. you grunted, irritated, and disappeared under your two blankets to shield yourself from the cold of the dawn, sighing when your realised you that you'd have to get up in no less than ten minutes. with transfiguration as your first class, too. how you loved having to turn tables into chairs first thing in the morning.

but then you felt it. a terrible sensation in your abdomen, so harsh it felt like sharp knife was slicing through you. it took everything in you not release a pained moan. the discomfort spread almost all the way to your upper thighs, coming in constant strong waves. you groaned, hiding further under the covers and curling yourself up into a ball.

you wanted to cry. not only were you exhausted, but you were also in a tremendous amount of pain. you had got your period the night before, and it was going kind of smoothly... as smooth as they go... so you weren't really expecting to wake up with a dying wish to pass the hell away barely five hours later.

pansy's footsteps sounded throughout the room, and you heard the bathroom door shut. you didn't move a muscle. a few moments later, it opened again, and she paced around for a bit, shuffling through her trunk and then your own when she couldn't find a clean pair of socks. she was humming some tune as she got ready, seeming to be in an okay mood, but then she scoffed. her steps got louder as she neared your bed, pulling the covers off of you.

"bitch, you'll be la– oh merlin, are you alive?" she was a little startled seeing you resemble the appearance of an ill victorian child, but nevertheless took a seat at the edge of your mattress, "no." you dragged out, retrieving your precious blanket. you couldn't recall the last time you felt this bloody awful.

"period cramps, huh?" she made a sympathetic face at you, very familiar with that struggle. you only nodded. she hugged you and stayed like that for a bit, before standing up and walking over to her drawer. she dug out a few chocolate frogs and tossed them over to you.

you muttered a strained thank you, collecting them all. you placed them onto your night stand, grunting. you knew that they probably wouldn't help as much as you wished for them to, but you still appreciated your friend for trying. it was the least she could do in those circumstances.

she sighed, picking up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder, "i'll tell mcgonagall you won't be coming in today." you sat up immediately, getting a bit stressed, "don't tell theo."

"huh?" she deadpanned, eyeing you like you had gone mental.

"i don't want him to worry." you explained with a shrug, wincing when the cramps got stronger. you knew what your boyfriend was like, meaning you were aware that he'd come running right to you if pansy were to tell him about the dreadful state you were in. you didn't really want him to see you like that. your head was beginning to hurt, too.

she rolled her eyes, "as if he won't come looking for you the moment he sees you aren't with me." she bent down and picked up a dirty stocking, throwing it at you. and she was right. theodore loved you more than all of his friends combined, so you could already picture him bolting through the dungeons and straight through your door after seeing that you were missing. he wouldn't even have to be told why you weren't present.

pansy left then, leaving you to suffer all alone. you were barely able to get out of bed to clean yourself up. even moving around was hard. it took you about two minutes to drag yourself to the bathroom and and another fifteen to leave it. managing your hygiene had never been more exhausting.

just as you collapsed back into your bed, ready for a few more hours of torture, the door of your room opened. there went theodore, holding one of his hoodies, a bunch of period products you weren't sure how he acquired, and some chocolates he had stolen from lorenzo's drawer. your heart may have simply melted.

"hi." you peeked at him from beneath the covers, your voice small and tired.

"oh, love." his face twisted with concern as he took in the sight of you. he quietly shut the door and was next to your bed in a matter of seconds. he clumsily set all of the things he brought onto your nightstand, eager to have you in his arms as soon as possible. he shrugged off his robes, kicking his shoes away too. you tried to sit up, and once you did, he took the opportunity to take the shirt you had slept in off of you. he replaced it with his hoodie before settling down next to you. it smelled like him, which was also one of your favourite things in the world. you sighed, a warm feeling overwhelming you.

"tell me if you need anything and i'll get it for you, okay?" he brought the blankets all the way up to your neck, throwing an arm around you and pulling you close. he was willingly missing out on classes for you. could you just let that slide?

"theo–" he placed a finger against your lips to hush you, "i can take one day off, it's not like it's gonna kill me." he retrieved his hand.

"but–"

"no buts." he made you get closer, and you let out a startled giggle, momentarily forgetting about the pain you were in.

you laid there in silence for a little while. theo was rubbing comforting circles into your back, pressing a kiss to your forehead every now and then. it eased you a little bit, and you weren't feeling so terrible anymore. the pain was still there, but whatever he was doing made it a little easier to bear.

"is it really bad?" he questioned after seeing you had scrunched your face up. you hummed and he sat up, reaching under your bed. "where is it– oh." he pulled out the hot pack he knew you sometimes used in similar situations, heading for the bathroom to fill it up with warm water. he returned rather quickly and reclaimed his position on the bed. he adjusted your pillows and placed the hot pack against your stomach, throwing an arm around you again. it made it a little difficult for him to pull you completely against his chest, but your own comfort mattered more to him.

"thank you." you sighed. he gave you a look, not a particularly annoyed one, but one that told you that you didn't have to thank for him doing things like that. he pecked your nose, the urge was too difficult to resist. you exhaled comfortably, taking a hold of his hand and intertwining your fingers.

he began massaging your knuckles, and you shuffled closer, as close as it was possible, burying your face into his chest. he kissed your hand this time before releasing it, and tangled his fingers in your locks instead. you loved it when he played with your hair, and he loved it just as much, mostly because you were giving him a fantastic excuse to touch you.

"what explanation did you come up with for missing classes today?" you questioned, suddenly feeling curious. your cramps slightly reduced in their intensity, so you didn't mind talking or even getting up for a bit.

"i just told it as it is." he shrugged, continuing to play with your hair. he tucked a strand behind your ear, smiling at you.

"what?" you chuckled in surprise.

"i told mcgonagall my girlfriend wasn't feeling well and that i wanna take care of her." he was so, very causal about it. you were surprised he actually knew what to do to help you. you did assume he asked pansy, but it at least meant that he cared. and it made you that much more happy to have him there with you.

"really? what did she say?" you raised an eyebrow.

"she was a little annoyed but she understood what i was getting at," of course she did, she couldn't not, "and then she told the other boys to take notes," he grinned proudly, "draco especially."

you burst out laughing, "that did not happen."

"yes, it did," he snickered against your cheek before placing a big, loud kiss against it, "you can ask anyone." he pulled back, but did not move away. you were so close that your noses were touching.

"hm, i think i'll take your word for it." he smiled again, and you pecked his lips, another way to thank him for doing all of that for you, "i love you." you whispered.

"i love you more." he gave you a cheeky grin.

"wrong." you retorted playfully, poking at his chest.

"that's up for debate." he put his hand over yours, holding it in place.

"do not argue with me." you warned, not very seriously, though.

he snorted at your teasing reply, but didn't push the discussion any further. on a different day, he probably would have. that one adored getting on your nerves more than anyone else in the world, but he wasn't so stupid to do it when you were having such bad period pains. there were other things to be done. he said he'd give you cuddles, and kisses, and hugs, and snuggles, and even more kisses and everything in between. and he did just that. that one time, and all the other times.

#theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott headcanons #theodore nott smut #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott scenarios #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott fanfiction #pansy parkinson #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Western Nights.

You don't expect to bump into your dad's best friend Javier in a church basement on the outskirts of town. You also didn't expect to fall in love with him. Life seems to be full of surprises - and Javier was the biggest surprise of all.

Pairing - Dad'sBestFriend!Javier Peña x Female Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Word Count - 3.6k

Warnings - cursing. sexual content at the end. talk and themes of PTSD. brief mention of domestic abuse. several mentions of panic attacks. age gap (but all very legal and consensual). smut in future chapters.

Author's Note - it's finally here!! i've had this idea for so long and i'm so glad to finally put pen to paper. the dads best friend trope is one of my biggest weaknesses and javier peña is my favourite character ever, so naturally this was born. this fic will tackle some topics that may be a little tough for some people, so make sure to read the warnings!! can't wait to get this up on its feet and running, and for javi and peaches story to develop <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!) are immensely appreciated!! <3

Masterlist. Requests.

Series Masterlist. The Playlist.

Healing isn't linear. Recovery is a journey. This is a choice I have to make. No one else can make it for me.

You're repeating reassurances to yourself in your mind as you descend the stairs to the basement.

It's dimly lit, and it takes your eyes a minute to adjust. When they do, you're able to make out an old, heavy, oak wood lectern at the front of the room. Rows of flimsy plastic chairs are set almost as an audience, and tables line the edges. The carpet is worn, beige, and stained, the entire space smelling like must and bad coffee. You wonder how many girls like you have stepped foot in here in the past.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater down over your wrists and stick to the back wall, willing yourself to become invisible. Watching as people mill in slowly, you take a deep, steadying breath. In for 4. Hold for 4. Out for 6.

"Hi!" a middle aged, dyed blonde, motherly woman screeches at you. The cadence of her voice makes you jump.

"Sorry, sweetpea! Didn't mean to scare you," she looks you up and down before continuing. "You're new here, ain't ya?"

Her southern accent, albeit very high pitched, is somewhat comforting. It's something familiar in this room full of the unknown.

"Yeah," you just about manage to choke out.

She surveys you again, this time with no judgment. You realise she's just trying to figure you out, as you are her.

"If you need anything, just come find me. I'm Primrose."

You smile gently at the floral moniker, and decide that Primrose might be some much needed support. Her motherly aura was calming you ever so slightly.

"Alright, ladies and gentlemen, if we could all talk a seat, that'd be fantastic."

A tall, curly haired man - who can't be more than 30 - wearing a name tag sticker that reads 'Tobias' has taken his place behind the lectern, gesturing at everyone to sit down. You pick a chair near the back, slouching down and ducking your head.

"Wonderful. Hi, everyone."

A chorus of hellos echoes around the room, everyone clearly used to this routine.

"For anyone who's new here, I'm Tobias, but everyone calls me Tobi. I've been a Priest for the last five years, and I've been running this group for the last two. Usually, how it works is that we get a few people to come up and speak through their experiences."

Your chest tightens, and you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. As if he sees your panic, Tobi continues.

"Most people find that being able to talk freely and without judgment is a useful coping mechanism. PTSD is complex, and it isn't something that can ever be fully 'cured' - but we can find ways to make things easier. You're in a room full of ladies and gentlemen that might not understand your experience, but definitely understand your feelings."

He catches your eyes across the depth of the room and smiles gently. You muster up the strength to smile back cautiously, and he nods before speaking again.

"Some just come here to listen. Others find it beneficial to talk. No one is going to pressure you, judge you, or scald you. This is a safe space. Share as much or as little as you'd like. Okay?"

Everyone nods and murmurs in agreement. Tobi seems to have a way of reassuring the entire room without really trying. He's calming, tender hearted, genuine. You like him already.

"Who wants to start?"

Primrose shoots up out of her chair on the front row and makes her way to the front. Tobi squeezes her shoulder as she passes, and she beams at him.

"Hi, y'all! I'm Primrose."

The room is clearly familiar with the blonde ball of excitement. Everyone yells greetings at her, her energy almost infectious.

"Most of you know my story, but just in case you don't -"

Her eyes flit to you briefly, and she smiles. You half smile back, relaxing slightly.

"I was in a marriage where I suffered domestic abuse. He used to hit me, manipulate me, call me names. You think it, he did it."

She takes a breath, putting the smile back on her face where it's faltered.

"I have some news to share. I'm engaged!"

A few people jump out of their seats to hug her, congratulating her with pats on the back and yelled excitement.

"Thank y'all, thank y'all! I couldn't wait to tell you guys. I just... I never thought that I could ever be happy again. I certainly never thought that I'd ever find the courage to be with another man, after everything. But I've found someone amazing. And he treats me like a queen. So, to anyone who's new here - it is possible. I promise you. Y'all better help me pick out a dress!"

The room erupts into applause, and Primrose smiles so bright you're surprised the lights don't shatter.

After Primrose, an elderly man named Walter takes the stage. He explains his experience in the military, and the trauma and violence he witnessed for years. You learn that he's a recovering alcoholic, who wasn't had a drink for 9 years. He shakes slightly where he stands, leaning against the cane in his hand. You can tell he's lived through hell.

Finally, after Walter, Tobi stands at the lectern. He's the sole survivor of a car accident that killed his two best friends. After struggling to cope, he turned to God, and became a Priest to better help people just like him in his community. He speaks with such ease, such grace. A wave of calm sweeps over the room as everyone listens intently.

He checks the brown leather strapped watch on his right wrist before clicking his tongue.

"Well, folks, that's all the time we have for today! Feel free to stick around and chat to each other, as always. There's coffee and cookies on the table, and Janet made some of her famous honey loaf too. Thanks for coming. Same time next week?"

Everyone agrees in shouts and thumbs up directed towards the front. Slowly, people rise, stacking their chairs away before making their way over to the table where the coffee sits next to the styrofoam cups.

You remain seated for a little longer, catching your breath. Your teeth are digging into your bottom lip, knawing at it anxiously. You suddenly taste pennies, and lick up the blood quickly with your tongue.

Standing up shakily, you fold your chair at its hinges and add it to the stack at the front of the room. A yawn overtakes you, tiredness suddenly settling into your bones.

Coffee. You need coffee.

You make your way over to the tables, timidly smiling at Primrose as she shows off her ring to a small group of people. Just as you reach over and grab an empty cup, you become suddenly aware of a presence behind you.

"Don't drink that."

A warm, rich, booming voice hits your ears. The large, looming presence comes a little closer, towering over you.

"Trust me, honey. It's the worst coffee you'll ever taste in your life."

You know that voice, it's familiar timbre.

Javier Peña.

You turn around to be met with the sight of him peering down at you intently. He's wearing a flannel and blue jeans, heavy boots on his feet. He smells like musk, sandalwood, and the Texan heat.

God, he looks good. He's strikingly handsome. Objectively attractive. Everyone in your town agrees that Javier Peña is one beautiful man.

And seemingly unattainable. Since leaving Lorraine at the altar years ago, no one has heard any word of Javier so much as dating.

"Such a waste," your mom always says. "Gorgeous man like that. He could have anyone he wants!"

And it's true. Chocolate hair, broad shoulders, strong thighs. The man is a heartthrob.

A heartthrob with a secret, apparently.

"Javier?" you question. "What are you doing here?"

It's now you realise that he's here. At the meeting. You've done such a good job of keeping your head down, going relatively unnoticed. And now, staring down at you, is your dad's best friend. So much for covert.

He must see the realisation on your face. Or maybe he notices the way your breathing quickens. Either way, he places a warm palm on your shoulder, looking at you carefully.

"Hey. It's okay," he reassures. "I won't tell if you won't."

You nod meekly, trying to stay calm. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

The basement suddenly feels too small, too dark, too stuffy. The carpet is too scratchy, the chairs too hard, the table too white. You need to get out before your chest caves in.

"You know, if you still want coffee, there's a diner like ten minutes from here. They do really good pie," Javier tells you, distracting you from your impending panic attack.

You take a breath and nod.

"Yeah. Okay. I like pie."

"Come on," he encourages, gesturing at you to lead the way. "Walk with me."

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You and Javier walk steadily side by side in silence, fingers occasionally accidentally brushing each other. After it happens twice, you decide to put your hands in your pockets the rest of the way, ignoring the warmth that radiates off him.

You eventually arrive at Cherry Pie Diner. The neon sign is blinding, shades of bright pink, yellow and blue flashing and flickering. Inside, the white overhead lights illuminate classic red leather booth seats and waitresses in pinafore aprons.

"Here we are. When you go in, ask for JoJo. She'll take care of you," he winks.

You stand stuck in your place on the sidewalk for a minute, processing his words.

"You're not coming in?"

He seems taken aback by your question. Now he's the one processing.

"You... uh - you want me to?"

"I, uh, yeah. I mean... if you're not busy... I just, uh - nevermind. Sorry. Forget I said anything."

"I didn't want to overstep, you know, it, uh- But if it's okay with you... I could do with some coffee."

Javier smiles at you gently, gauging your reaction. When you smile back hesitantly, he pushes open the door to the diner, gesturing at you to head inside.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"What looks good, honey?"

You raise your eyes from the menu you were staring at intently to quirk your brow at Javier.

"Hmm?"

"I asked if anything looked good," he repeats kindly.

"I, um, I'm not sure. What do you recommend?"

"The peach pie," he says without hesitation.

The quick response makes you laugh, the melody of it tugging at Javier's heart strings. He realises, sadly, that he hasn't heard that sound in a hell of a long time.

"Listen, I know it's not anyone's go to," he justifies, "but it's honestly the best thing on the menu. There's nothin' like it."

"Okay," you say with complete certainty. "Peach pie it is."

JoJo is a bubbly, Southern woman with rosy cheeks and a smile that never seems to falter. She takes your orders happily, flirting with Javier like you weren't sat watching, confusion and awkwardness plastered across your face.

"You two seem close," you approach gently, trying to make conversation.

"Yeah, I know her husband. JoJo's been serving me here for at least 10 years. Peach pie, every time," he laughs.

"I'm usually a cherry pie girl. Maybe you'll convert me."

You both sip steadily at your coffees, humming in contentment at your first bites of pie. Halfway through your slice, you break the silence.

"Okay, fine. This might be the best pie I've ever had."

"I told you," he smirks. "I'll never lead you wrong, honey. Promise. Not where pie is concerned, anyway."

You finish off your slices in comfortable quiet, neither of you quite sure what to say next.

"So, uh... about tonight..." you begin nervously.

"I won't tell anyone I saw you, cariño. I swear."

You breathe a sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Javi. Really."

Javi. The nickname so rarely used, it makes his heart stutter for a second.

"You're... you're not gonna ask what I was doing at that meeting?"

He tilts his head slightly, gazing at you carefully before replying.

"If you wanted to tell me, you would. I'm not gonna push you. These things take time."

He smiles like he knows. You think, maybe, he does.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, sweetheart."

A breath. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

"Was that your first meeting too?"

He shakes his head, soft curls rippling.

"I've been going for a few months. I sneak out of town every week, so I'm pretty sure Chucho thinks I'm having a secret love affair. He doesn't ask questions."

You both laugh, and JoJo's head whips up, her curiosity peaked. She's never heard Javier laugh like this. Sure, he chuckles at her jokes, but the sound doesn't usually reach the corners of the room like that.

"He'd probably love it if you were, you know. Your love life is often a topic of conversation in my house, among many others in our neighbourhood."

He scoffs, and kicks your foot under the table teasingly.

"Man, nothing happens in that damn town, does it?"

"Nothing at all. Think we're overdue a secret love affair from you, Mr Peña. It might liven things up a little."

"Shut it, you," he chuckles, rolling his eyes.

You pull the sleeves of your sweater back down over your wrists again.

"I haven't seen you in a while. Think my dad is starting to get worried, you know."

A deep crease appears between his brows abruptly, hand rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah. I've just been busy, I guess. Tryna sort my shit out," he snickers dryly, no real humour in it.

"So did you do it?"

"Hmm?"

"Sort your shit out?"

Now he laughs genuinely, bright smile gracing his cheeks.

"Absolutely fucking not."

"Man, I know the feeling," you reassure.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your breathing speeds up slightly, eyes darting around the room. Javier notices, reaching across the booth to grab your hand. He intertwines his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing comforting patterns on your skin. You take a deep breath. In for 4, hold for 4, out for 6.

"I feel like... like I'm... uh...," he nods at you reassuringly, squeezing your hand a little tighter. "I feel like I'm drowning. I'm barely keeping my head above water at any given moment. And I'm tired, Javi. Fuck, I'm tired."

A warm, salty tear escapes you, running down your cheek. Javi leans forward and brushes it away with his thumb, big brown eyes never leaving yours.

"It's okay, cariño. You're okay," he murmurs. "I get it. God, I get it."

"You do?" you sniffle.

"I do," he confirms. "More than you could ever know. And I know how lonely it feels. But I promise you, sweetheart. You're not alone. Not anymore."

His voice is like warm honey, soothing and golden. It melts into you, releases some of the tension from your shoulders. The tightness in your chest loosens slightly, and you take a deep breath. You find the courage to look at him again, and find that he hasn't taken his eyes off you once. His gaze is like an anchor, tethering you to reality. You surprise yourself by not wanting to shy away from the intensity of it. No, you want more.

Javier lets go of your hand to trace his fingertips up your forearm. He draws patterns carefully, as if he's learning every inch of you, committing you to memory. Like he isn't sure when he'll get to touch you like this again. If he'll get to touch you like this again.

You're still looking at each other, neither of you gathering the courage to look away. It's as if Javi is reading the words off the very surface of your soul. You're not sure you've ever felt so understood in your life. It terrifies you.

Without thinking, you grab a hold of Javier's hand and raise it to your lips, kissing each of his knuckles gently. The tenderness makes his heart ache.

"Hermosa," he sighs almost wistfully.

The sound of his voice snaps you back to the present moment.

"I'm sorry," you stutter, letting go of him. "Fuck, Javi, sorry. I don't - oh, I... fuck."

"Why do you do it?" he asks.

"Do... do what?"

"Apologise for everything. Every other word out of your mouth is 'sorry'," he chuckles affectionately.

"Sorry," you mumble without thinking. You pause, registering your words. The two of you break out into laughter, clutching at your stomachs.

"Are you?"

"Am I...?"

"Are you sorry? Or do you just say it because you think people want to hear it? You can't apologise for your entire existence, cariño."

You look into those warm, chocolate eyes, and realise he's read you for filth. He's right.

"I'm not sorry," you whisper.

He quirks a brow and nods attentively, urging you to continue.

"For... for what I just did. I'm not sorry."

You're praying that he understands what you're trying to say. I'm not sorry for my tender gesture. I'm not sorry for this connection we've made. I'm not sorry for my soft heart.

"I'm not either," he replies, barely above a murmur. You hear him, clear as day.

You reach out, this time, and interlock your fingers with his across the table. His large hand envelopes yours, and he squeezes. It effects you more than it probably should.

JoJo drops a plate behind the counter, the red and white china shattering across the checkerboard floor. The smash snaps you both out of the moment, making you jump. Your heart kicks into overdrive, battering against your ribcage.

"Hermosa, it's alright. Just a plate."

You hear him, but your nervous system doesn't seem to want to cooperate. Your breaths become laboured and frantic, and your hold on Javi's hand tightens almost painfully.

"Come on, Peaches, let's get out of here. It's getting late."

Javier stands from his bench seat and pulls you up with him, never once removing his fingers from where they're locked with yours. He shoots a smile over to JoJo, who returns it with glee. The two of you walk across the parking lot, hand in hand, illuminated by the neon light of the diner's sign. The colours dance across Javier's cheekbones, reflecting off the brush of his mustache, painting the rich brown warmth of his hair. He's never looked more handsome.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

"Peaches."

"Hmm?" Javier asks from where he's leaning against the side of your car, back in the church parking lot.

"You called me Peaches. In the diner."

He nods, smirk etched on his streetlit face.

"Because of the pie."

"Because of the pie," he echoes.

"I like it," you confess quietly. "Peaches."

Javier pushes off the vehicle and stands, towering over you. Without a second thought, he brushes a thumb over your cheekbone in a featherlight touch.

"Sweet like peaches," he murmurs. "Too fuckin' sweet for a world like this one."

You look up at him, breath catching in your throat when you meet his eyes. He's gazing at you with adoration. With tenderness. With so much softness. Your knees go weak with the weight of it all.

It hits you, suddenly. The realisation.

You want to kiss him.

You want to kiss Javier Peña.

You want to kiss him more than you've ever wanted to kiss anyone in your entire life.

You're stood in the parking lot of a church on the outskirts of town with your dad's best friend and you're feeling the closest thing to happy you've felt in months.

You take a step forward, closing the gap between you. The warmth radiating from the older man settles itself in your bones, shielding you from the chill of the night. Just as you tilt your face up towards his, your phone buzzes.

Jumping apart as if you've been caught, you check your messages with shaky hands.

"It's my mom. She thinks I'm with a friend, so she's just checking in. She doesn't like it when I drive in the dark."

The mention of your mother snaps Javier out of his peachy haze.

"You should get back, cariño. It's late. Sorry for keeping you."

"Now who's apologising for no reason?"

He laughs, and you feel like you've won a gold medal. An achievement in its own right.

You climb into the drivers seat of your car, starting up the engine. Just as you're about to leave, Javi taps on the window. You roll it down.

"Same time next week, Peaches?"

"Same time next week, Javi."

You drive away with a smile on your face and a warmth in your stomach, the taste of peach still lingering on your lips. You notice that Javier drives behind you steadily, following you carefully to make sure you get home safe.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're staring at the ceiling.

You're plagued by insomnia.

According to the Internet, it goes hand in hand with your PTSD. You make a mental note to work up the courage to ask Tobi about it in the next meeting.

You lie in bed, watching as the sunlight slowly illuminates the room. Usually, you'll make a cup of tea, read a book, watch a TV show. Pace around the room like a caged animal. Count sheep. Do yoga. Listen to music.

Tonight, you take a different approach.

Tonight, you slip a hand under the waistband of your underwear, and replay the way Javi murmured your name in the diner on repeat.

It does the trick.

@frogers @farintonorth @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @pedrobaby @grace46 @harriedandharassed

#javier peña imagine #javier peña #javi peña #javier pena narcos #javier peña fanfiction #javier peña fluff #javier peña fic #javier peña smut #javier peña x reader fluff #javier peña x reader smut #javier peña x reader #dadsbestfriend!javi x reader #dadsbestfriend!javi #dadsbestfriend!javier peña #dadsbestfriend!javier peña x reader #dbf!javier #dbf!javier peña #dbf!javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #narcos x reader #narcos smut #narcos fic #narcos #narcos imagine #javier peña angst #javier peña x reader angst #dadsbestfriend!javier peña smut #Western Nights #pedro pascal x reader

[starks-hero]

Concerning Lockley

A 3rd installment to the Smoke and Mirrors series.

Pairing: Marc Spector x Reader, Steven Grant x Reader, Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: A year has passed since the events in Cairo and two things cannot remain hidden for much longer; the truth and a third alter.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: canon-divergence, revolves around Marc and Steven's past so implied child abuse, lightly implied smut, descriptions of violence, language (but it's me so that's almost a given)

a/n: A criminally late third installment to Smoke and Mirrors/The Truth is Rarely Kind. It's fairly heavy so I'd recommend reading the first two chapters for context. Anyway, guess who's finally arrived? 😏

You had grown fond of the night. The peace, the silence. The temporary comfort that, even just for a little while, things would be okay. Well aquatinted with the early hours, you woke to see them hit the clock almost religiously; every night without fail.

Every night since Cairo.

Sleep was something you'd forsaken. The few hours of rest you did manage to steal were few and far between and when you did manage to drift off your guilt followed you into your dreams. It seemed that was all you ever felt anymore; an overwhelming, crushing sense of guilt that never went away. 

You'd started making a cup of tea some time ago, (five minutes perhaps? enough time for the boiling water to cool, now a comforting warmth radiating through the ceramic.) It was another sanctum in your ritual, the action almost bringing more comfort than the drink itself. The steam kissing your hands and drifting through your fingers in playful wisps, the hypnotic sound of the spoon gliding against the ceramic edges of the mug.

Your hand stilled and your breath hung idle in your chest; a moment later two arms settled around your waist with a gentle squeeze and a yawn muffled against your shoulder. 

"Alright, love?"

Steven spoke the words into your neck. They were gentle and warm, just like the rest of him. There's a certainty in how he holds you to him and you quit stirring your tea in favour of supporting yourself against the counter. You fear your knees will give way, from the lack of sleep or guilt, you can't tell. His nose ran the length of your jaw and you offered a quiet hum in response to his earlier question.

"What are you doing up, ey?" His voice is breathily quiet, softening at the end as it would when he spoke to a child or small animal. Something he was worried he'd frighten. His hands, feather-light in their movement, traced down your arms until his fingers brushed the swell of your wrists. Intertwining your fingers, he brought your joint hands to your chest and pressed down. It was a grounding, comforting weight.

I'm here. I've got you.

You took several deep breaths, each somewhat steadier than the last. You swallowed down the sand that seemed to have formed at the back of your throat; dry and scratchy.

"Couldn't sleep," you answered truthfully.

Steven had waited patiently for your answer. He was always so patient. He'd been patient during the three weeks you'd scarcely spoken to them after Cairo, and patient still during the outbursts that followed when you did start talking to them again. And how could he blame you? Dying and coming back again was bound to have that effect. The entire dying situation was something that had been quickly placed in the red zone (extremely triggering and not to be talked about,) and after an exceptionally explosive episode with Marc over it, none of you were eager to revisit it.

Steven wasn't even certain you remembered your time in limbo, but if you did you didn't talk about it and he didn't pry.

"Come back to bed, yeah? I'll stay up with you till you doze back off."

He did know that you didn't sleep anymore. Not really. On more than one occasion he'd wake in the early hours to find you sat by the door or perched by the window, something sharp in hand. Harrow, by some miracle, hadn't come looking for you yet, but you planned on being ready when he did. 

Steven and Marc could feel the anxiety that practically hung above your head like a black cloud of miserable smog. The thought of Harrow and his goons finding the ushabti and following through with their plans was one that haunted you. A fact made clear by your desire to, in your own words, 'find the deepest, most ancient well known to man and chuck the damned thing down there.' But dealing with people set on genocide called for something more permanent and Layla had assured you she had it handled.

You didn't doubt her but it didn't make you feel any more at ease either.

You focused on the weight of Steven's hands against your chest instead and took another steadying breath. You agreed to go back to bed, if anything just to ensure Steven got a few more hours of sleep. You would fake it, you'd gotten good at it too.

He kept your hand in his as he led you back to bed. The tea abandoned on the counter eventually went cold.

You awoke to Marc, his lean arms barely brushing the expanse of your stomach, hand resting openly against your waist. You always knew the difference, knew who you'd woken up to. Steven held you like you would turn to dust and Marc held you like you were made of glass.

His hold on you tightened as he woke, that subconscious urge to keep you at arm's length crumbling. He kissed your head, your neck and then the expanse between the blades of your shoulders, his hands reverent as they traced your skin.

He made love to you differently since Cairo. It was slower and methodical, that desperation and fear that had been there before was long gone and there was a certainty now. He was more sure of himself, of you and of what you were to each other.

You rested in a comfortable silence afterwards, the air still warm and sweet and the sheets grounding against your trembling body.

Marc was a work of art beside you and for the briefest of moments you could understand why Khonshu chose him. He was made to be divine, to be godly.

His eyes had lightened a shade, as they tended to do when he was unfocused and staring into nothing. It was something only you'd noticed; the way the dark chestnut brown turned amber, almost pools of honey in the morning light now.

You traced his temple and he turned to you, taking the time to plant a kiss to your wrist. Right above the gentle beating of your heart. You temporarily worried that he'd feel your guilt in how your pulse drummed irregularly against his lips. You always felt guilty when he touched you softly. Knowing what you did you felt you didn't deserve it.

Your anxiety must have bled into your expression and Marc mistook it for worry.

“I'm alright,” he said. “It's just… quiet.” He traced his forehead and looked back at the ceiling. It was an observation he'd made several times in the last few months. His thoughts weren't as loud and his head didn't feel as crowded, no longer bursting and tearing at the seams. You supposed that made sense, now that a homicidal bird was no longer among his mind's residence.

You drifted with your thoughts until a gentle nudge from the man beside you brought you back to earth. His brows were furrowed subtly, trying not to give away that he knew something wasn't quite right.

“Baby–”

“I'm fine.” The words were so rushed they tumbled over each other as they left your tongue. You doubted Marc would have understood you at all if it weren't for how many times you'd parroted the phrase in the last few months.

Marc sighed and wrinkled his nose. “Steven doesn't believe you.”

“And you?”

“I think you're a bad liar,” he added. It wasn't accusatory, quite the opposite. “What's going on?”

The rehearsed lines came naturally. “I'm just tired.”

He seemed disappointed by your answer but said nothing. Another fifteen minutes in bed and Marc got up to start his morning routine and you prepared to keep up your masquerade for another day. You knew your lines as well as the part you had to play. It was all second nature now.

A week later you decided that you were going to tell them.

It wasn't the guilt that drove you to it in the end, not exactly. You'd been dealing with that for long enough. Rather it was the humbling realisation that this was no longer about you. It wasn't about how you spent every waking moment thinking about what you'd seen. How every time Marc laughed you envisioned the child that spent his birthdays either alone or berated. Or how each time Steven touched you softly you thought of the little boy cowering from his mother. 

No, it was about Marc and Steven and the fact that they deserved to know. And if your relationship was the price to be paid for them to have their truth then so be it.

But just because you'd made the decision by no means meant you were handling it well.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cursed with each step as you did laps of the kitchen. You'd started pacing just after Steven left for his shift and you were certain you could pace for the rest of the night if you needed to. A hieroglyphic on the patterned rug Steven had bought had noticeably worn down beneath your feet. 

You'd tried to rehearse something, gone as far as writing out bullet points and trying to convert them into something that resembled a speech. But all that came out of it was a bin full of crumpled-up paper and an even deeper pit where your stomach should be.

You passed the fish tank for what felt like the ninety-ninth time and stopped to glance at its resident. Gus seemed about as interested in the current affairs as a goldfish could be.

“How do you feel about staying with me on the weekends?” You asked. A single bubble left the fish's mouth in reply. “Gods, I'm losing it.”

Your heart near burst from its ribbed prison as the doorbell sounded three clanging chimes of doom. Your anxiety was so off the charts you were certain anyone nearby with a radioactivity monitor would be recording some cataclysmic event with your apartment as ground zero.

You employed every shred of willpower you had to get your legs to move you towards the door and opened it with such a convincing smile you should have been handed a bafta then and there.

“Hiya, love!” Already unsteady on your feet, the absolute, unabashed optimism in Steven's voice nearly had you keeling over.

He barreled forward past the threshold, a well-aimed kiss landing on your cheek and a bouquet of pink carnations brushing your chest.

“Picked these up for you on the way home,” he quipped easily as if the gesture came as easy to him as buying the milk. The bouquet was so large you had to employ both hands to hold it. The petals were so picturesque they almost seemed fake and the stems were a healthy green. The stall vendor had cared for them so well.

Steven hadn't stopped talking, not even as he removed his work clothes, electing instead to keep telling you about how the vendor had told him of the variety of colours carnations came in and their individual meanings but that he chose pink just because they were pretty–

“And I thought maybe we could go out tonight, grab something nice to eat. It's been a while since we've– everything alright, love?”

Still staring at the flowers, you hadn't realised you hadn't looked at Steven once. And he'd read you like a book.

“Do you not like them? Is it the colour–”

“No, no, Steven, they're beautiful.” You rushed. “It's–” That awful sensation of pressure began to coil around your neck and you struggled to swallow. Every thought spilled from your mind like water through a bullet-riddled tin can. “I just–”

In three quick strides, Steven was upon you, hands rising slowly to cradle your face. “Hey, hey now, it's alright. Had a long day?”

Something close to a whimper caught in your throat. You'd had a long few months. 

You closed your eyes and focused on the soft press of Steven's palms against your skin, how his fingers brushed your jaw and thumb was ceaseless in its comforting movements across your cheek.

You took a steadying breath, Steven praising you as you did, and in the moment of silence that followed you felt the extra presence. That there were two bodies in the room but three people. That reminder of Marc served as a final shove.

“I need to tell you something.” The words were so long coming you felt your lungs almost give out under the weight of them. “The both of you.”

Steven's gaze softened, not an inkling of fear to be found despite your troubled expression. There was no doubt or worry he'd done something, only that certainty he'd carried himself with over the last number of months. 

You thought about telling them your 'heinous crime' was breaking Steven's favourite mug and then he'd laugh and act offended regarding the remark Marc would have made about Brits and their tea. Then the three of you would go to bed and nothing bad would happen, nothing would change– 

“I'm here, Marc too. We're both listening.”

“Back in Cairo–” A breath. Now or never. “Khonshu showed me something. I know it sounds ridiculous but when Harrow shot me– when I died and before I came back, Khonshu– he showed me your past. He showed me everything. And I've wanted to tell you for so long, I should have told you–”

His hands fell from your face and without the anchor of his touch, you felt yourself sway. When he took a cautious step back your heart capsized. You wanted to follow him but guilt and fear had fused your feet to the floor in equal measure.

“Steven please, I didn't want to hurt you. Marc, I–”

His eyes fell closed and your chest felt like it was caving in atop your lungs as you waited for them to open. Waited to see Steven, eyes innocent and confused and knowing you'd have to tell him that everything he was came from something so awful. Or waited for Marc, eyes clouded and full of anger. Your entire life hung by a thread and at this rate, you wondered if cutting it yourself would be a kinder act.

They had every right to be angry after all, every right to hate you. Having someone poking around in your head without permission was such a nonsensical thing to have happen that you couldn't think of a single reaction that wouldn't be warranted.

After what felt like hours, his eyes opened. 

But it wasn't Marc. And it wasn't Steven. 

It was a dull, far-off stare; tired eyes regarding you from beneath hooded lids. 

You dared not move. It wasn't just the eyes but his entire body that was different, the way he carried himself. A tired smirk pulled at his lips and this stranger, this intruder in their body, seemed to have caught on to your realisation. He turned his back on you and walked towards the kitchen without a word.

His footsteps were lighter than Steven's and heavier than Marc's and his shoulders remained squared as if ready for a fight. And for a worrying moment, you thought maybe he was. 

You stayed as you were, moving only a few inches to keep him in sight whilst still within bolting distance of the door. It was a terrifying thought, having to run from someone that looked like them.

 The intruder opened the cabinet below the sink and pulled out a shoulder of whiskey you didn't know was there. The broken seal and missing liquor as well as how casually he grasped the bottleneck in his hand told you this wasn't his first indulgence. 

Opening the second cupboard to the left, (how did he know where everything was?) he retrieved two short whiskey glasses and placed them on the counter, the bottle presented in the middle almost decoratively.

He looked to you, then to his alcoholic display, then back to you expectantly. Against all better judgment, you joined him at the counter. You hoped he couldn't notice the sweat at your brow. 

“I don't know if you drink,” he said and his voice knocked the wind out of you. It was so foreign, coming from his mouth; like hearing the brass notes of a trumpet come from a clarinet. “But I think you might want one for this.”

You regarded him as one might do an unwanted guest, cautionary and with no shortage of distrust for this stranger wearing your boys' face. 

“Who are you?” he didn't answer. “Where's Marc and Steven?”

His brow twitched in a move you took for unamused disapproval. Ignoring your questions, he generously topped his cup and downed it all at once before pouring himself another and this time including you in the debauchery. You didn't trust your hand enough to lift the glass from the tabletop. You hoped he hadn't noticed how you were shaking.

His eyes set on you and his head tilted to the side. You were sure, rather you hoped, it was a harmless gesture but feeling as small as you felt it was hard to receive it as anything but predatory.

There was a stretch of silence that lasted so long you felt yourself losing your nerve, then–

“Three's.” He said, grasping his glass loosely. “All good things come in three's. You heard that one before, carino?” He lifts his pointer from the glass and tilts it in your direction.

If it weren't for the fact he was suddenly speaking Spanish you might have found the strength to answer. You anxiously toyed with your glass and you were certain he caught the tremble in your fingers.

Scared as you were, the fear was slowly melting into frustration as the absence of Marc and Steven became more pronounced with each passing second.

“You're not Marc.” He shook his head. “And you're definitely not Steven.” Another slow shake of agreement. “Then who are you?”

“People with big houses buy big guard dogs to keep them safe.” He took another swig of his drink. “Let's say I'm this house' guard dog, I keep things safe. And since you joined our little fiesta, that includes you.” 

You tried to swallow the information but found yourself choking on it instead. There was a third.

Your mind was near bursting, cracking and fissuring at the revelation. An hour ago you had convinced yourself that you were ready for whatever was to come, ready to change the trajectory of your life for the worst all in the name of both what was right and your love for Marc and Steven. But by the universe and all the gods within, this was not what you were expecting. The thought that Marc and Steven had been keeping this, keeping him from you was an unwelcome one. You could understand it of course, but the notion that you’d all been keeping practically life-altering secrets from one another left you feeling uneasy.

“Relax,” he said, and either the body's skills were interchangeable or you really were just easy to read. “They weren’t lying to you.”

The length of time you spent processing the information proved enough for him to finish his drink with another five seconds of wiggle room. 

“They don’t know?”

He shook his head and for the first time all night, he took his eyes off you. “And we’re going to keep it that way. They won’t find out about me, or Khonshu, or that little stunt back in Cairo-”

Your blood ran cold, freezing water flooding your veins. “How did you-?”

The movement of his mouth fell somewhere between a smile and a grimace.

“Khonshu told me to give you his compliments. You’re the first person in decades he’s done that to whose brain hasn’t turned to sand and come out their ears.” You stopped breathing. “That, and that he wishes you could have been there when we put three bullets in Harrow’s skull.” You rose so quickly the chair fell away behind you and your drink toppled. He kept a good hold on his own glass, ignoring the spilt liquor seeping into the timber. He didn’t seem concerned as you backed away from him.

“What the fuck did you do?” The words burned as you spoke them, leaving your throat hoarse. All the fear and confusion had warped into a horrified anger so palpable that your body trembled to withstand it. “What did you do?”

“What I had to.” He rose to meet you, in tone and stature. “To keep this safe-” he motioned his arm around at the apartment. “-And to keep this together.” This time his hand motioned between you and him. No, not him. The body.

“They have a right to know.” You bite the words out harshly, the tears of frustration welling in your eyes only making you more intimidating.

“They have a right to some peace.” His answers came quick and concise, as if he had them memorised like a well-versed script. “I think that’s something we can both agree on.”

Your lips parted with the promise of an argument but the absolutely overwhelming weight of the conversation crested and swept you away before you got the chance.

“They don’t want to be avatars anymore, that’s fine. They can stay here and keep playing house and happy families and I’ll do what has to be done. All you have to do is keep it that way. Now, I’m going to leave and when you open the door again it will be to one of them. And you’ll smile and act like everything is fine and the three of you will get on with things as if nothing happened. Understood?”

“And what about you?” You doubted the walls of any courtroom had ever heard a tone as accusatory as the one you’d just employed.

He made a brief noise of amusement before raising his head to look down on you and it was again made clear that this man couldn’t have been any more of a stranger.

“Some dogs are meant to be kept on a short leash.” 

With that, and leaving a deepening cavern beneath your ribs, he started for the door. You tried to breathe, tried to speak, tried to stop yourself from throwing your heart up. He swiped the bouquet of carnations from the desk as he went; Steven was prone to daydreaming, all he had to do was reset the scene. 

“Wait,” you managed as he turned the handle. If you were going to even entertain going along with this sick, twisted theatre of lies then you deserved to know who you were performing with. “Who are you really?” 

He grinned, apparently sharing the sentiment. “Jake,” he said, the sound like water on hot coals. “Jake Lockley.”

And then he was gone, leaving you to rehearse your appreciation of carnations and the colour pink.

Thank you so much for reading!

Smoke and Mirrors tag list: @bakerstreethound @crazydavefromplantsvszombies @admin-in-residence @bibli0thecary @mischiefmanaged71 @hoemadegrace @the-great-imagines-of-1812 @lokiedokiee @linkpk88 @theconsultingdoctor10 @jamiethenerdymonster @ponyboys-sunsets @shirukitsune @stwrawr @spectorsvoid @slytherheign @spideysimpossiblegirl @bored-as-hell-666 @marimarvelfan @stanmixtapes @stevenwith-av @buckys-other-punk @evienorville @stilllivindue2spite @daughterofthequeen @alotofsomething @niname92 @angelstark16 @child-of-the-moon-gods @interactive-brain @le3h4 @cutiecoww @heeheeeeeesblog

#‘a number of months had passed’ see what i did there 😏 #the concept of jake thinking his primary purpose is to serve and that he isn’t deserving of love/being part of the group because of it >>> #he’s wrong obviously but the dynamic #jake lockley x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight imagine #moon knight x reader #jake lockley imagine #steven grant imagine #marc spector imagine #jake lockley x you #steven grant x you #marc spector x you

[caw-oticdork]

Since my previous podcast recommendation list was pretty popular, I've decided to make another, with another bunch of excellent podcasts:

13 Minutes or Less - Short podcast with very short episodes, about a pizza chef who doesn't like dealing to people but has to do some deliveries due to short staffing. Very much not her thing, but she does her best. As it turns out, her clients are quite a bit stranger and spookier than expected...

Additional Postage Required - Sci-Fi adventure about a nonbinary courier who gains the ability (or curse...) to get visions about the contents, past, and sender of packages they touch. They get roped into a rebellion. There's hoverboard racing. It's awesome.

Among the Stars and Bones - A team of xenoarcheologists search a distant world for traces of a long-vanished aliens. It's been a while since I watched this one, so I don't remember it very well, but I know that I enjoyed it. Very good sci-fi horror.

Dark Ages - Fantasy workplace comedy about a supernatural museum. Quite a lot of fun.

Dragon Shanty - Fantasy story about two bards traveling the high seas. There's dragons aplenty. Very queer. Excellent songs.

Falling Forward - Hacker story loosely based on the myth of Icarus and the Labyrinth, about getting back at a terrible corporation. Kinda experimental, this one has the shortest episodes I've ever seen.

Hotel Daydream - Podcast about the goings-on at a supernatural hotel. Very inventive, with really interesting characters.

Jar of Rebuke - Mystery about a researcher at an ominous cryptozoological organization out in the rural US. He's got no memories of his past and keeps dying and coming back. A story about cryptids, identity, queerness, neurodivergence, and community.

Light Hearts - Slice of Life podcast about turning an old, haunted building into a cafe and queer community center. The ghosts lead to some very fun shenanigans.

Lost Terminal - Mentioned in the other list but not expanded on. This is a hopepunk story set on an Earth devestated by climate change. Told from the POV of an adorable AI who watches this Earth from a space station, observing how humanity re-builds itself and finds a brighter future.

Mayfair Watchers Society - You know Trevor Henderson? The guy who drew Sirenhead, Long Horse, and other such creepypasta creatures in his found footage style? Yeah, this is a horror anthology based on his works, directed by him. Set in the rural town of Mayfair, where strange creatures are a lot more common than elsewhere... Each episode has a slightly different framing device, with some being found footage audio, others meeting recordings, phone calls, etc.

Monstrous Agonies - An advice podcast for the british creature community. Many of the advice letters are sent in by listeners - there's two by myself, one from an ant that can hear and send radio and one from a fey who is looking for curse advice. Some letters are metaphors for queerness, clashing cultures, ableism, and minority communities, others just some urban fantasy fun. Has a little bit of plot, but most episodes have an anthology style. Fast approaching the finale!

Mx Bad Luck - Slice of Life about someone who is cursed with bad luck. Sometimes sad, sometimes funny. Can recommend.

Neighbourly - Neighbourly follows the residents of Little Street, house by house. What they do, how they interact with each other, and what skeletons are hiding in their closet. Starts out as a spooky urban fantasy thing that's almost an anthology, but weaves itself into quite a mysterious plot over time...

SINKHOLE - Short-form audio podcast presented as a collection of audio posts from a member of a community of data restoration hobbyists in a sometimes-unfamiliar future. Mystery about disability, internet communities, and how things change with time.

Second Star to the Left - Scout-explorer Gwen Hartley has five years to explore and prepare her planet for settlement. With no aid but her robots and the anxious voice of her long-distance scout-minder Bell Summers in her ear, she's hoping she's ready for anything.

Someone Dies In This Elevator - Anthology where every episode, someone dies in an elevator. You wouldn't believe how creative they get with that simple concept!

Tales from the Low City - By the maker of Mistholme Museum, this podcast explores the everyday lifes of the last people on an alien world, after the surface had become uninhabitable and everyone had fled down into the last city, the subterranean Low City. This one made me cry a lot!

Tartarus - In a secret facility deep beneath Antarctica, an anxious astrobiologist, a terse station manager, and an AI keep humanity safe from the monsters they imprison.

The Attic Monologues - Queer urban fantasy story about a university student who decides to record themself practicing monologues using a collection they found in their attic. Don't forget to listen to the post-credit scenes!

The Bridge - Surreal alternate universe horror story about the keepers of a bridge over the Atlantic. Gets pretty spooky.

The Green Horizon - Sci-Fi comedy about a na'er-do-well Irish space captain and his rag-tag crew traversing a war-torn galaxy in search of fame and fortune. Very fun podcast.

The Lavender Tavern - Anthology podcast with original gay fairytales. Most are quite memorable!

The Vesta Clinic - Sci-Fi story about a clinic that helps various interesting alien lifeforms with their medical issues. Excellent worldbuilding and characters!

Tides - The story of Dr. Winifred Eurus, a xenobiologist trapped on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces and a fascinating ecosystem. She must use her wits, sarcasm, and intellectual curiosity to survive long enough to be rescued. But there might be more to life on this planet than she expected...

Hope this list is as helpful as the last!

@boombox-fuckboy @marvelousmawn @sapphireclaw @ashes-in-a-jar @frogmomentsfrombeyondtime @time-is-restored @emmy-noethers-rings

You folk seemed the most interested in the other list, so I'm being bold and @ing you all.

#podcast recommendation #podcasts

[leahrintarou]

☠︎︎ DAY TWO: EDGING FT. KUROO ☠︎︎

☠︎︎ WARNINGS: desperately horny kuroo, sub!kuroo, fem reader, teasing, reverse pleasure, y/n gives, kuroo recieves.

☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 1.2K

"y/nnnnn!" she groaned at the sound of her boyfriend repeatedly calling her name over and over again. this has been going on for the past seven minutes and each time, she'd adjust the volume of the tv to a higher setting.

slightly rolling her eye's when kurros voice followed after his own footsteps making its way down the staircase, he called her name once again. "y/nnn, i could've been dying and you're just ignoring me"

she only turned a deaf ear to kuroo's pleas, making him lazily slouch onto the empty space of the sofa. he gently grabbed her wrist and placed her relaxed digits over the growing erection hidden under the fabric of his shorts.

he placed his own palm over y/n's hand, applying some kind of pressure. "i'm hard and you've been ignoring me so, now that i've gotten your attention, the least you could do i make me feel good.. right?"

y/n's eye's slightly widened, hesitantly turning her attention towards kuroo. "and you ask for my help by sounding like a stuck record and calling my name every five seconds?" y/n's fingers slightly adjusted against his gradually hardening erection causing a sharp breath to pass through his teeth. "well, it got me what i wanted, didn't it?".

"trust me, you're not gonna want this"

"whatever you say, pretty" y/n hummed to kuroo's words, knowing that his cocky demeanor will soon melt into nothing with a couple of sensitive touches. she suddenly applied an immense amount of pressure onto his print, feeling the grip of kuroo's own palm slightly tighten around her hand.

using her unoccupied hand, she removed kuroo's grip from her occupied one, giving him nothing to actually grasp onto other than the throw pillow that rested next to him. y/n made swift movement's, sitting up and hurdling a leg over his thighs, now straddling his figure.

she heard the staggered sigh leave her boyfriend's lips, signifying his usual impatience. examining his sudden, lust filled expression, y/n decided to shift her position, to rest her clothed core against the length of kuroo's erection. he let out a small whine at the pressure that was suddenly applied, and it only became drawn out when y/n swayed her hips to meet his own.

"you've been louder than this before, you trying to keep your pride?" with her word's, kuroo uncontrollably tightened the muscle in his abdomen, the line between accepting his guilty pleasure and keeping his cocky facade suddenly becoming a blur.

y/n reached beside her, taking the tv's remote into her hold, aiming it at the sensor to adjust the volume to zero. "w-what was that for?" he asked through staggering breaths, his movement suddenly becoming uncontrollable. "i wanna hear you"

she slid her hand under the hem of kurro t-shirt, resting her palm against his waist, feeling satisfaction due to the way he shivered slightly from her touch. she carefully rubbed her thumb against his warm skin, leaning down to place small kisses to his neck.

kuroo only tilted his head a bit, giving y/n more access. with the hand that rested under his shirt, she parted from his skin and assisted kuroo with pulling the restricting fabric over his head. "fuck, this isn't fair, y/n"

"you're the one who wanted my help" y/n smiled before placing chaste pecks onto kuroo's chest, she practically felt his heartbeat quicken against her lips. he whined at her expected response because, afterall, he knew y/n well enough to know that she would never have an intimate moment if it didn't include teasing the living soul out of him.

but today, y/n did feel generous enough to give kuroo at least a small bit of satisfaction. hooking two digits into the hem of his sweat-shorts, she teasingly pulled it down, just enough to expose his v-line. placing small taps to the muscles indention, she let out a hum when she saw his veins become more prominent in his arm when his grip tightened onto the throw pillow.

"you're loving this, aren't you, tetsu?"

"quite the fucking opposite, your teasing feels unbearable when it's anywhere but-" kuroo's words stopped when he felt y/n firmly palm his restrained erection. "here?" she finished his sentence. kuroo couldn't manage to fathom a reply since his voice was occupied with a low moan.

y/n finally pulled down kuroo's shorts, leaving the loose hem to rest on his mid-thighs. when y/n finally looked up at him, she placed a small kiss onto his lips before mumbling a quick apology. "for what?"

"you'll find out soon enough"

y/n focused her gaze to kuroo's now complete erection. she finally realized why he was being so needy and impatient. he was desperately in need of a release and it was evident by the way he stiffened into her fist when she wrapped her hand around his member. he let out a breathy swear, lazily leaning his head back and onto the sofa's perimeter. "more"

y/n made fast and smooth movements with her wrist, jerking kuroo into her tightly wrapped fist. his hips uncontrollably contorted and bucked upwards, making y/n place a firm palm to his pelvis, lessening the intensity of his movements. "y/n-fuck"

small incoherent babbles fell from kuroo's lips, the last set of curses coming out as a silent plea when his erection jerked in y/n's hold. y/n immediately released her grip around kuroo, he let out a whine of frustration at the lost pleasure. his breathing was unsteady and tears were resting on the hem of his bottom lashline when his eyes shut tightly.

the liquid escaped from their place, slowly drifting down his facial structure. y/n leaned forward before placed her lips next to his ear. "i told you, you wouldn't have wanted this" she mumbled. a sharp breath once again passed though his teeth.

"y/n..just- please let me cum"

to be quite honest, y/n did feel a bit bad due to the fact that he'd been actually quite patient despite his words. kuroo didn't touch himself, he let y/n hear all of his pleasure filled noises, and he tried his hardest to keep himself together.

rewrapping her hand around kuroo's painful erection, she used her thumb, swiping it across his tip to spread his precum around the entirety of his member, hips bucking against her palm. "y/n...i'm s-sensitive" he said through hitched breaths. letting out a hum and nodding at kuroos warning, y/n continued her previous movements, wrist moving gracefully to please him.

this time, the pressure of her palm against his pelvis was a bit lighter, causing his hips to visibly buck into y/n's fist. kuroo was practically positive that y/n would only continue the cycle of working him up just to forbid him from releasing but, a sigh of relief left his lips at y/n's next words.

"tetsu, you can cum now"

kuroo's hips repeatdly bucked with every stroke of y/n's hand, she had no choice but to reapply the heavier pressure on his pelvis to keep his bucking hips, slightly steady. letting out whining moans of y/n's name, he felt satisfied when he felt the warm liquid pump from his tip and onto his tensed abdomen.

his watery eye's looked up to y/n. she was focused on the liquid that slowly drooled down the back of her hand, still pumping his softening member til he'd let her know that he was satisfied enough. kuroo lifted a shaky hand to grasp y/n's wrist, stopping her movements so he wouldn't suffer from overstimulation.

"you're no fun" she said through a sigh when her hand was removed from his member.

"and you're too much fun"

#sorry for typos #kuroo x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo testuro #kuroo smut #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsurō #hq smut #kinktober #anime and manga #anime smut #nekoma #hq nekoma #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu kuroo

[jenniferjareauwife]

r has a bad habit of biting their fingernails and picking at the skin around them, and jj always prevents it by holding r’s hand and letting them fiddle w jj’s fingers instead. she has to do it at least three times a day🥲

You've Gotta Stop

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: none

word count: 819

summary: you pick your nails and the skin around them when you're anxious so your girlfriend helps you and calms you down

My leg bounced as I picked at my nails. This case had been going on for far too long and the body count was stacking way too high. Were we ever going to solve it or were people just going to keep dying? Were we really making a difference or were we just making everything worse? "Y/n?" I heard JJ's soft voice in my ear.

"Hm?" I turned to look at her with an anxious look on my face, still picking at my nails.

"Take a breath honey, it's ok." She put her hands over mine to stop me from picking. I took a deep breath and leaned closer to her, wanting everyone's eyes off of me. "Let's go somewhere private, yeah?" I nodded and stood up, letting her lead me to an unoccupied conference room. Since her hands weren't in mine I started picking again, eventually drawing blood.

"I need a band aid." I mumbled. JJ pulled a few out of her pocket, knowing that I usually needed them while we were on cases.

"You've gotta stop that honey. You're hurting yourself." She tucked my hair behind my ear while I put on my bandages.

"I'm sorry, ok? I'm sorry." I started pacing around the room, trying to pick my skin around the bandages. "Why can't we figure this out why can't we-"

"Sweetheart. It's gonna be ok." She put her hand on the small of my back and caressed it with her thumb.

"How do you know that?"

"Because it's always ok. When have we not solved a case?" I shrugged. "See? It's gonna be ok. You've gotta stop picking at your nails though, it's really not good for you."

"I'm sorry." I mumbled.

"I know."

"I can't help it, I just do it."

"I know honey, I know." She pulled me into a much needed hug and I tried my best to just relax into her. "Just a few more hours and then we can head back to our hotel room, ok? Just a few hours." I nodded and tightened my grip on her.

"Can we stay here? I don't want to be around everyone else." I mumbled against her chest.

"I'm sorry babe but we have to go back with the others. We have to do our job." I groaned and buried my face into her further.

"I know." She kissed the top of my head. "Just hold on for a few more hours."

Three hours later we were back at the hotel and I was back to picking at my skin. JJ was on her laptop so she didn't notice until a few minutes later. "Come here." I moved closer to her with an anxious look on my face, one I always seemed to have the past few days. She held my hands in hers and rubbed her thumb over my knuckles. "Just play with my fingers, ok?" I nodded and leaned into her, immediately starting to fidget with her fingers. We stayed like that for 20 minutes and I was finally starting to calm down. JJ had been giving me kisses all over my face while I held and played with her hands.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"For what?"

"For picking my fingers. I know it's super annoying." I sighed and looked down at her hands.

"Hey. Look at me." She grabbed my face gently to turn me to look at her. "It's not annoying, ok? Everyone deals with anxiety differently and that's just what you do. Is it healthy? No. But we can work together to find something else that helps you that isn't hurting you in the process, ok?" I nodded and leaned towards her so she could plant a kiss on my forehead. "Do you know what it is about this case that makes you so anxious? I've had to stop you at least five times today honey."

"Just...don't know if we're ever gonna solve it. What if we're hurting more than we're helping?" I shrugged and started playing with her fingers again, feeling my anxiety creep back up on me now that I was thinking about it again.

"How would we be hurting more than helping?"

"We haven't caught him and now he's probably figuring out how to stay under the radar since we're onto him. If we don't catch him soon...the case might go unsolved and he can just keep killing for the rest of his life." She shook her head.

"That's now how that works."

"You don't know that." She raised her brows after my retort and I quickly apologized. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok. Let's get some rest. You definitely need it." I nodded and watched as she laid down, resting my head on her chest and still holding her hand in mine so I could play with it if I needed to. She kissed the top of my head and gave my hand a soft squeeze. "I love you."

"I love you too."

#criminal minds #jennifer jareau #x reader #jennifer jareau x reader #lgbtq #wlw post #jennifer jareau x you

[stellamancer]

Niku idk what it is but for some reason in my mind I imagined you as blonde. I know I’ve seen like your selfship art and such but the Niku that exists in my mind somehow is blonde

- @yutaleks

LMAOOOOOOOOOO OMG. i've been giggling over this for like the past five minutes.

aleks if it's any consolation, you're actually not the first person to imagine me as blonde. which is why i was laughing. it's just so funny to me that it's happened twice. do i give off blonde girlie vibes?

when i was younger i dyed my hair brown and my bf at the time thought it was my natural color and i was like 'no????' i'd actually like to dye my hair pink (to match my aesthetic?) or silver (to hide all my white hairs LMAOOOO)

#aleks tag #this is just so funny to me omg #but in an affectionate way

[hrodvitnon]

*Near the end of the mission- the Titans have pulled off the impossible. They found Gigan, Abraxas bested him in combat, got from him the necessary failsafe they knew he had, and now they were trying to escape. Unfortunately- one of the groups was trapped. Godzilla, Rodan, Abraxas, Barb, and Tiamat were stuck in a room that had caught fire- likely from one of Abraxas's lightning attacks. The door was blocked by debris from the other side- and Godzilla banged on the door to get it to open while the fires licked at their backsides.*

Rodan: We're all gonna die, we're all gonna die, we're all gonna die, we're all gonna die, we're all gonna die, we're all gonna die...

Godzilla, Abraxas, and Tiamat: WOULD YOU QUIT IT?!

Rodan: IT'S TRUE! THIS WAS AN AWFUL IDEA! WHY DID I LET MYSELF BE TALKED INTO THIS??? God I'll never get to see the Sun again- feel the wind rushing past me in flight- never *mate* with anyone again! This is the end...

Godzilla: STOP BEING A DRAMA QUEEN AND HELP ME ALREADY!

Rodan: It's curtain call- requiem's playing- fat lady singing... Quick- I gotta get some stuff off my chest, guys.

Tiamat: Fucks sake.

Rodan: Abraxas- Vivienne- San- whatever the fuck you go by- I love you. Despite all the snipping and teasing and rudeness- we go together great and I love being around you and I really really really wanted to have more time with you.

Rodan: Barb- I was just being an asshole when I called you a bug that one time. I'm sorry- you looked really sad when I said it and I felt like I couldn't say sorry because that would make my tough guy masquerade come crumbling down and everyone would see me for the glorified hatchling I was- putting up a front and deflecting everything with humor and wit so I didn't have to feel things.

Rodan: Tiamat- you don't deserve all the shit people say about you behind your back. Yeah, you're kind of a slut; but that's cool- y'know? You don't give a shit and I think that's really respectable and I wish I could be like you and not have such a fragile ego. You're also funny and fun to be around- and I feel like no one ever tells you that, y'know?

Rodan: And Godzilla- I've always sorta thought you were hot.

Godzilla: ...what-

Rodan: FUCK, your roar, your body, DID I MENTION HOW GOOD YOU LOOK IN THE PINK?? I got on your ass for it, I know, I'm sorry- but god, you look good. You're also just real quiet and sweet when you wanna be and super calm most of the time and JESUS CHRIST, YOUR VOICE-

Barb: Uh- Rodan?

Rodan: -I tell ya, if you ever showed interest I would've bent over. In. A. Heartbeat. But... I never knew how to tell you this. You're just really intimidating all the time and whenever I talk to you I feel like you tune me out and never really listen as you just have that stone-cold look all the time and y'know me: Rodan, King of The Skies who needs nobody but himself to keep him company. But you seem like a cool guy... and I wanted to be better friends with you before...

Mothra: What the fuck.

Rodan: what-

*The rubble had been cleared and the door was open. On the other side was Dagon, Shimo, Mothra, Behemoth, and Kong; and they were all staring at Rodan with agape maws- along with everyone else.*

Rodan: ...shit.

Mothra: Got one for me in there?

Rodan: You guys just leave me here- I'll be dying of-

Godzilla/Abraxas/Tiamat/Barb: Absolutely not!

*Godzilla grabs Rodan and throws him over his shoulder as the gang runs down the now open hall, reunited with their friends.*

Oh, Rodan, you drama queen.

Dagon: Honestly, this is going much better than I expected, but how did you get the fail safe from Gigan?

Abraxas: Classified.

*five minutes earlier*

Abraxas: Give me the fail safe or I'll never let you record me being carved open like a turkey again.

Gigan: Oh, sweetheart, you'll have to do better than that.

Abraxas:

Abraxas: Hey, you know all those grotesque leather family tree things you have hung up in that hallway, like Clive Barker Bayeux Tapestries From Hell? The ones your followers made out of their skin and gave to you as offerings that will be added to with every generation?

Gigan: ...you didn't.

Abraxas: I did.

Gigan: No.

Abraxas: It was easy.

Gigan: You MONSTER, THE AMOUNT OF HISTORY IN THOSE TAPESTRIES! THE BLOOD AND SWEAT AND TEARS THAT WENT INTO FLAYING AND TANNING THEM!

Abraxas: And now they're all tilted.

Gigan: THAT FUCKING HALLWAY IS GOING TO GIVE ME SUCH A GODDAMN HEADACHE, YOU CARRION SPAWN FROM THE DARKEST PIT OF EVIL!!

#frostbite814 #abraxasverse #monarch shenanigans

[quill-pen]

Meet the Scrooges ~pt. 1~ A Sims 4 Scroogeverse fic

Set in the Sims 4 au by @rom-e-o. The first half of the little fic I've been working on bit by bit. Was originally supposed to be one thing, but it felt right to have one half mainly focused on meeting Starla and the other focusing mainly on Bess meeting and befriending Constance.

Rated T for some language and innuendo.

No warnings, just heaps and gobs and mounds of fluff.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Bess groaned as they approached the tall brick house. Her stomach continuously rolled up into her throat and down again to her toes at a sickening pace as the building loomed closer and closer. It was a beautiful looking house, Victorian era, remodeled and refurbished tastefully to allow for modern functionality while keeping the beautiful, classic, and timeless charm. It was just Bess' style. She would have adored it and been so excited to enter if it weren't for the reason they were entering it: To meet Ebenezar's family.

It was insane how she had never met them before, after having been in her Wolf's life for several years now, and especially since Wolf and his twin brother were so close, being the only real family they'd had for decades. But it was one of those freak things where situation and inconvenience had popped up after situation and inconvenience after situation and inconvenience until you hadn't met people for four to five years. Shit was chaotic. But now, approaching their second anniversary, Wolf was finally taking Bess to meet her in-laws.

They'd been invited to stay the weekend, which Bess thought was incredibly generous and maybe a bit crazy considering Ebenezer and Constance had just had twins not long ago. Not to mention they had a nearly-three-year-old daughter in the house. (This was why they'd opted to leave Bess' siblings with Granny FeFe for the weekend. After all, they'd only be a few minutes drive away should they be needed.) All in all, this would either be a blast or a disaster--no inbetween.

Wolf chuckled warmly from the driver's seat. "You're going to be fine, Dearest," he soothed her. "Take deep breaths. Slowly."

Bess tried, but the breathing seemed to settle nothing. "This was a bad idea," she lamented. "This was such a bad idea--staying the weekend. We should've just kept the kids with us and gone to the beach with everyone else. Why the hell did we think this was a good idea?!" Bess hid her face in her hands as she shook it.

"Because it is a good idea," Wolf assured her, voice soft but firm. "I haven't seen my brother or Connie for years or even met my first niece. It's high time we spend some family time--it's past due."

He glanced Bess' way, eyes softening with sympathy as he watched her rock nervously back and forth in an attempt to soothe herself. The silver-haired man reached over and gently grabbed one of her hands, pulling it away from her face and weaving their fingers together to squeeze comfortingly. "Hey," he murmured quietly. "It's going to be all right, Bess. I promise. Sammy and Connie have been dying to meet you since I first mentioned you. In fact, I'd say it's safe to say they already love you just from what I've told them about you."

Bess looked pitifully at him. "You'd be biased in whatever you said though," she meekly pointed out with a tremor in her voice. "They only know your version of me, Wolfy, not me me--the real, uncensored, un-rosy-colored version. Wh-what if... what if they don't like that version?" She clutched his hand more tightly in her anxiousness.

Wolf brought their hands to his mouth and sweetly kissed her knuckles even as he kept driving. "Sweetest Moondust," he purred into her skin, "beautiful wife and magnificent She-Wolf, my version of you is the real, uncensored version, no matter how you're unable to see it yet. But even if it weren't exactly, why would they not like you?"

"Maybe because I'm almost thirty years younger than you?"

"Your age--and consequently our age gap--has never once been anything more than a bullet point of fact for anyone, Bess, I assure you. All the jokes the others have made over the years have been good natured and affectionate: My brother and Connie will be no different. You're a grown, intelligent, mature woman perfectly capable of making your own informed decisions--no one has ever questioned that for a moment."

"Okay, then if not that, how 'bout the fact I stole you away from your family and business and kept you tied up in the shit with my demonic whack-job of a mother for years so you couldn't come back home? You missed the births of your nieces and nephew because of me. You should have been here, Wolf, not halfway across the world being a shield for me against my incubator from hell."

They were pulling up to the manor now, pulling into the driveway and parking.

Wolf finally looked fully at her. "You never stole me away, Darling," he assured her softly, drawing her worried gaze with his gentle one. "I went with you willingly; practically forced myself into the situation, remember? The past two-and-a-half years I've been exactly where I needed and was meant to be--right by your side. You needed me, and I wouldn't have changed that for anything, nor do I have any regrets for it. Sammy and Constance are in complete agreement with me as to it all and have been since I told them I was leaving with you. They begrudge you nothing, I promise you--I would have set them straight otherwise."

Bess couldn't help but smile a little. "I know you would have," she cooed, kissing his bicep and leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "But, in my experience, even when people are set straight... it doesn't seem to take." She couldn't help the glumness in her tone as she remembered the hell of her youth and growing up. She wanted nothing more than to never go back into any such situations ever again.

The silver-haired man bowed his head and kissed her coal-black curls. "Well, it's a good thing we don't have to worry about it then, hm?"

Bess lifted her head to come nose-to-nose with him and meet his eyes again. She didn't look or feel anymore reassured. "If you say so."

Wolf smirked and hummed, eyes flicking down to her mouth and back. Then, without warning, he surged in and captured her soft, perfectly painted lips with his. Let her try to be anxious with that!

Bess squeaked in surprise but then quickly melted into the contact, letting her eyes drift closed as she shifted closer to him, untangling her hand from his to hold his cheek while the other reached out and gripped his vest to pull them closer. Every thought and emotion she felt that didn't involve him and her love for him washed out of her soul like it had been taken out with the tide. What she wouldn't have given to just stay with him like this; his smooth, warm lips caressing hers, his teeth sinking into her pillowy bottom lip ever so gently now and again, his tongue hot and skilled as it slipped alongside her own, tasting like the peppermint he'd sucked on during the drive, his fresh cedar apple cologne and cinnamon citrus aftershave filling her nostrils and tickling her olfactory senses so delightfully. The fact that this glorious god of a man was hers--and willingly--still boggled her mind.

After a moment, and after Wolf had slipped a hand up her panty-hoed thigh beneath her powder blue skirt to grope her hip, they pulled apart, panting a bit for air. "For the record," Wolf husked as he gazed cross-eyed into her starry eyes, "you're always rosy-colored. And it's gorgeous."

Bess' insides tickled with butterfly flutters. She pulled her lip between her teeth and ducked her face from view into her husband's shoulder, tittering giddily like a crushing thirteen-year-old. A blush reddened her cheeks.

Wolf chuckled affectionately, squeezing her thigh and nuzzling her closer. "Properly married for over a year, and still so bashful whenever I compliment and kiss you," he gently taunted. He peppered her crown with more kisses.

Bess, shyly peeked up from behind her thick curtain of hair. "You make... everything feel new," she murmured. "Like a first. Every time. Whenever I think I can't love you any deeper or harder, you go and look at me like I'm the center of the world or hold my hand or... kiss me like you just did... and I somehow fall even more in love with you." She chuckled and bumped her brow to his, closing her eyes as she nuzzled into his warmth. "How do you manage to do that?"

The man leaned into her touch and nuzzled back. "Perhaps because I love you so bloody damn much, every time I look at you, I think I can't possibly love you more than in that moment, but then the next time I look at you comes... and then I can't possibly love you more than in that moment. Or the next, or the next." Wolf kissed his wife's brow, then tipped her head back to meet her starry eyes again. "I have a sneaking suspicion my entire life is just going to be a perpetual free fall into a deeper and deeper love for you, Mrs. Scrooge."

Bess' heart skipped beats as the butterflies in her belly tickled a grin onto her face and tears into her eyes. "Oh, Wolfy." Without thinking she dove back in for another slow, simmering kiss which she was most eagerly obliged with. "I love you so, so much," she whispered against his soft lips.

"And I love you," her man returned. "And so will your brother- and sister-in-law. Now come on." He pecked a barely-there kiss to her lips again and pulled back to switch the engine of the Royce off. He winked at her. "Let's go meet your family, yeah?"

Luggage retrieved from the trunk of the car and in hand, the couple trekked toward the front door. Each step caused Bess' anxiety to mount higher and higher, and when she finally laid eyes on the door, it took everything in her to not drop her bags, turn tail, and gallop away. Again her mind was screaming about what a bad idea this was. A voice that sounded just like her mother was echoing in her head: They'll hate you. Nobody likes you anyway, but they'll hate you for what you've done and keeping Ebenezar away. They'll think you're manipulative and controlling and only want him for the money. If they care about him at all, they'll try to take Ebenezar away from you--you don't deserve him. You're not good enough for him--you're not good enough for this life--and they know it. They'll see right through you and see just how unremarkable, common, and disappointing you really are.

A gentle, warm pressure wrapped around her shoulder, pulling her focus away from the voice in her head. Bess looked down to see her shoulder encased in her hubby's large hand, then looked up into his face again. She realized she must have stopped walking when he'd kept going because he was turned towards her, like he'd realized she was no longer following him and had come back to collect her.

Wolf smiled in gentle reassurance as he held her gaze. "You all right?" he crooned. His large, strong fingers tenderly squeezed.

"H-How should I act?" The question seemed to come out of nowhere; not even Bess understood why she'd asked it. That hadn't been any of the thoughts running through her mind.

Her man lightly cocked an eyebrow in confusion before sighing with an adoring smile as he shook his head. Letting her shoulder go, he brought his hand to her face, tucking hair behind an ear before cupping her cheek. "Like you," came the sincere answer. "You should only ever act like you, Moonflower." He leaned back down to give her another soft kiss to once again help settle her nerves. (It truly was a remedy he never tired of dispensing.) With that, Wolf curled his arm around her back and gently led her on.

They'd only just reached the bottom of the steps when the large, dark wood door with the impressive knocker suddenly opened and an older, short little woman dressed in a maid's uniform with glasses and a broom stepped out to bar their way. Stamping the broom down on the top step and leaning against it, she perched a hand on her hip. "Well, well, what have we here?" she drawled, sounding vaguely Eastern European. A sly smile quirked up her lips and her eyes sparkled in good natured mischief. "Do my aging eyes deceive me, or has the prodigal finally returned?"

Wolf laughed warmly. "I can promise you it's not your eyes, Magda," he declared. He let go of Bess and opened his arm out to the woman. "I'm home."

Magda's smirk blossomed into a beaming grin and she leaned the broom against the brick and came down the steps to embrace the man. "Oh, Ben," she chuckled warmly. "My Benny Boy."

Bess couldn't help but smirk at that. "Benny Boy"? Wolf hated when people called him 'Benny' and 'Benny Boy'--she surmised--would have been no less different and probably worse. Magda must have been someone quite special: She seemed about Wolf's age, maybe a little older--sixties at the oldest. Perhaps a doting, older sister-figure? The idea warmed the Yank's racing heart.

Magda embraced Wolf for a long moment, patting and rubbing his back affectionately and even rocking him a bit. "Oh, we all missed you, Love," she told the man. "Everyone. Of course, we all knew why you had to stay away so long, and we managed, but it wasn't the same."

Wolf chuckled and rubbed Magda's back comfortingly in turn. "I missed all of you, too," he assured the woman. "But I'm back now. And I don't plan on leaving again for a good long while."

"Good. We need you here." The woman passed her hands over Wolf's sides and then paused, pressing her palms against his ribs. "My!" she exclaimed, pulling back from the Englishman with wide eyes. She felt along his sides, flanks, shoulders and chest, and finally his middle. "I see you didn't suffer from hunger while you were away," she claimed, smiling in amusement. "You've put on as much weight as Ebenezer has! Wonderful! You walking skeletons certainly needed some extra pounds."

Wolf rolled his slate-blue eyes. "Don't exaggerate, Magda," he groaned playfully.

"Me? Exaggerate? Never!"

Wolf snorted out a laugh.

"I hope you didn't become addicted to all that ghastly, American fast-food while you were there," Magda only half-joked.

"Honestly, rarely touched the stuff." Wolf looked away from Magda over to Bess with a soft smile. "Bess saw to that. She fed me well--took spectacular care of me."

Bess blushed and couldn't help but return his smile. "Well, you took wonderful care of me first," she insisted. "How could I not return the favor?"

"Aaahhhh," Magda cut in again. She was turned to completely direct her attention upon the American, a little smile on her lips. "So this is the famous Bess." She looked the young woman over, smiling warmer and larger with every sweep of her eyes.

Bess shrunk back a bit, painfully aware the spotlight was now upon her. "U-Um... yeah, th-that'd be me. I-I-I don't know about "famous" though."

Magda shook her head as her smile continued to widen. "You're famous in this household, Dove," she informed the Yank. "And, one could argue, famous throughout the live music scene of London and on YouTube as well, Ms. Moonrock, sought after lounge performer and 65.5K subs strong--whatever that means, but according to the children it's quite good. I must say famous for good reason as well--you are pretty as a rose and cute as the dickens!"

Bess flushed red hot all the way down beneath her collar at that, her freckles popping from beneath her minimal makeup with the blush. She shifted on her purple peep-toe shoes a bit, fluctuating between feeling both morbidly embarrassed and genuinely chuffed over such compliments. She wasn't sure she'd ever get used to hearing such words so frequently directed her way that weren't in the form of YouTube comments or from drunken galloots at a hotel bar. Smiling the tiniest bit, the woman turned and ducked her head to shyly hide her face a bit behind her dark hair. "Thank-Thank you."

Chuckling warmly, Wolf began introductions: "Darling, I'd like you to meet our maid--well, Sammy and Connie's maid anyway--Magda Vandergeissan." The man clasped the little woman's sturdy shoulder and smiled impishly down at her. "She runs this house with an iron fist."

Magda playfully scowled at him and smacked his hand away. "Oh, you--hush! Not an iron fist. ... A fist of hard-packed earth. Wrapped in velvet."

Wolf laughed. Then he turned to Bess again and stepped toward her, brushing her hair back and taking up her hand to bring to his lips again. "Magda, this is Bess Scrooge." He smiled at the dark-haired woman, eyes soft as a lamb's, and held her hand over his heart. "My wonderful, beautiful, remarkable wife--the woman who has made me the happiest and luckiest man on Earth." His voice was tender, dripping with adoration and devotion.

Bess couldn't help but smile back as that familiar warmth flooded through her. She always felt like the most amazing woman in the world when he looked at her like that. She wasn't, of course, but she could easily believe it for a minute or two when in the lovelight of those gorgeous eyes. "Oh, stop it," she giggled in the way girls who are deeply in love do.

"All right, all right," Magda said, stepping in between the pair. "You lovebirds can make goo-goo eyes at each other later. Right now, I'd like to get to know the lovely lady. You can only learn so much from YouTube videos and hotel Yelp reviews." Without even looking, the maid took Bess' bag from Bess' hand and pushed the handle into Wolf's. Then she took Bess' make-up travel kit and stuck it under his arm. "You can handle the luggage, can't you, Ben?" It was an order phrased as a question. Before Magda could get an answer, she wrapped an arm around Bess' and turned all of her attention to the young woman. She smiled in a motherly fashion. "Come along, Dovey, let's go inside and you can tell me all about yourself." She began to lead Bess inside. "Would you like some tea? I've made fresh biscuits to go with it."

"U-uh, yes. That-that would be just fine, Mrs. Vand-"

"Oh, please, Sweetheart, call me 'Magda'--I insist. After all, we're practically family. Might I say, that is an absolutely lovely sweater. Lavender is an excellent color for you. And don't you look darling in that skirt? Constance isn't the only one in the family with style anymore. She'll be happy for that."

"Oh, um... thank you, Magda." Bess craned her head back to give her husband a nervous look but he just grinned and winked as he followed with the bags.

"I'm afraid you just missed the family by about five minutes," Magda informed them. "They took the little ones on a walk for some sunshine. They should be back in a half hour or so. Ben, why don't you take the bags up to your room? I've turned down the bed and have everything ready for the pair of you to stay in your old room this weekend."

Wolf nodded, then sent a careful gaze his wife's way. "Are you going to be all right for a moment or two?" he asked. His voice was full of sincerity and understanding, not a bit patronizing. Bess' anxiety was never something to be taken lightly for him, especially not since it had begun to flare drastically again during the whole debacle with her mother. They were working on getting it under control again, and the medication and coping exercises were definitely helping--even just being back home with family and friends seemed to be helping a great deal; it would be a good while, though, before Bess was back to the stability she'd had before her mother had reared her ugly head again.

Bess offered a small smile in turn as she managed a nod. "I think so," she answered quietly. "If not, I'll call and-"

"I'll come running," her husband finished for her with an assuring nod. He stepped forward and bowed down to give her a yet another short but still languid kiss. After which, he took the time to touch his brow to hers and hold her gaze. "I'll be back in just a minute." With that, he went up one of the split staircases and disappeared into the floors above.

Bess watched after him, a dopey smile that never seemed to fail to come out whenever he kissed her--no matter how chastely--lingering on her face. "Love you," she dreamily called after him. She would never grow tired of saying that.

Magda watched on with a sly, knowing smirk, hands perched on her hips. If that wasn't the look of a woman smitten to the very core of her soul for her man, she didn't know what was. "Well, well, well," the maid drawled, drawing the raven-haired woman's attention. "I've been in the presence of the two of you for less than five minutes, but I think it's safe to say you're as thick as thieves."

Bess couldn't help the bashful, girlish giggle that escaped her as she hid her blushing face in her hands.

Magda chuckled. "I'll take that as a sign he's treating you as he should."

Bess smiled in a completely lovesick way at the maid, hands on her blushing cheeks, her chest feeling as though it were about to explode with happiness. A year and a half as an established couple, and she still felt as though she were in the beginning stages of fresh love. Would it always be like this? She couldn't imagine that it wouldn't be, not with her marvelous Wolf. "Like a queen," she practically swooned. "I want for nothing with him. He's the most amazing and marvelous man!"

Magda knew that well. And the fact that Bess could see it too, caused Magda to be overcome with the urge to hug the young woman and join in her happiness. She did just that. The fact Bess readily returned the affection only after a moment's hesitation made the maid even more happy. Ebenezar had most definitely picked a good one. Of course, Magda had known that too from the first time the man had ever spoken of the Yank.

"I can tell just from the way he looks at you, that you treat him just as well," Magda murmured. The maid pulled back a bit to meet Bess' shining eyes and, for the first time, truly noticed the freckles sprinkling Bess' face. Ah, another freckled, blue-eyed beauty. I'm starting to see a pattern here.

"I'm so happy you're here with us now, Bess," Magda murmured, squeezing the girl's arms as she smiled sincerely into her face. "I'm so happy you and Ben have finally found each other. I've hoped and prayed for a long time for both of the boys to find their special someones--people who will love and cherish them as they deserve to be, partners who will help them bear the burden of the world instead of letting them become crushed by it. Ebenezer has found that special someone in Constance, and, though I've only just met you, from everything I've heard from Ben over the years and just from what I've seen already in the last few minutes, I can tell he's found that special someone in you. And I couldn't be more grateful or happier."

"I just want to make him feel as happy and loved as I can," Bess stated, gushing a bit as she gripped the maid back. "I want to build a life with him, from the ground up. I want to face every challenge and hardship with him and celebrate every triumph and good time with him. I want to give him a home and everything else he's ever needed and wanted. I want to help him see the man that I see when I look at him--a good man, kind and strong and brave and generous and chivalrous. Oh, I just want to love him, Magda! I do love him with all my heart and soul, and thank the heavens for him every day. I just want to love him for all eternity in any and every way that I can."

Tears shone in Magda's eyes by the end of that diatribe, her chin trembling ever so slightly. "If you knew how long I've waited for someone to say those things about my Benny Boy..." she trailed off into a quiet sob, a happy tear descending her cheek. Once again, she embraced the American, hugging her tight and close as she patted her back. She thought her heart would burst when Bess hugged her back just as tightly. "Welcome to the family, Bess. We've waited much too long for you to come home."

"Took me a long time to find it," Bess croaked back. "But now that I'm here, I'm not ever leaving--I promise."

When Wolf came back, from the third floor, he was drawn by the sound of laughter into the sitting room where he was greeted by the sight of Magda and Bess seated at the tea table. Both women held cups of tea as a tray of chocolate chip biscuits sat between them, and neither of them seemed to notice his entrance as they were both laughing much too hard. The man couldn't help but chuckle as well, thrilled that his wife and mother-figure were getting on so well already. "Well, now," he called out as he crossed the room, "this is a sight." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Bess' crown, stroking a warm hand down her back. "And you were afraid she'd slam the door in your face," he teased at a whisper into her ear.

Bess giggled sheepishly and blushed. Yes, she'd been overthinking and worrying needlessly. Again. Perhaps one day she'd learn to not do that.

"Now," Wolf sighed, leaning down to chomp a bite out of the half-eaten biscuit in his love's hand before standing up and looking between both women, "what are we laughing at?" He pulled out a chair and shifted it a bit closer to Bess before sitting down and slipping an arm around her shoulders.

Bess smirked at him as she arched an eyebrow in mischief. "You and your folded skivvies and ironed socks." She snickered when her man shot her a slightly unamused glare as his cheeks pinked up just a bit.

Magda chuckled. "Oh, Ben, dear, in many ways you've changed, but in so many others you've stayed the same," she crooned, reaching over to fondly pat the businessman's knee. "Thank the Lord you found this lovely little Yankee who's willing to put up with and cater to your... idiosyncrasies. Many women wouldn't without being paid."

Wolf became a bit defensive at that insinuation, however playful it was. "Bess doesn't have to...! I-I don't force her to...! If she didn't want...!" he tried to explain himself, but he was much too flustered.

Bess and Magda broke into giggles again and Bess leaned in closer to his side and wrapped her arms around his waist. "She's just teasing, babe," she cooed. "Feminists everywhere would scream and froth at the mouth but let them: I like folding your boxer briefs and ironing your socks. Besides, it's not like you don't handle my laundry in return." She kissed his flushed cheek.

Magda's eyes widened behind her glasses. "Whhhaaaaat?" she drawled in disbelief. "Ebenezar Charles Scrooge doing laundry?"

Wolf glowered at the maid. "Don't sound so surprised," he grumbled. "I know how to use a washer and dryer. It doesn't take a genius."

"He was a little rusty at first," Bess admitted with a giggle. "I had to remind him about separating things. And I don't think he'd ever heard of fabric softener before." She ignored the groan from her hubby and continued on: "But after that, he caught on quick--within the first few laundry days. And he was always excellent at handwashing--I wouldn't trust my delicates to anyone but him."

"Huuussssshhhhhh!" Wolf hissed, blushing red clear up to the tips of his ears. The last thing he needed Magda to hear about was how he liked to wash Bess' pretty little knickers in the sink to unwind after rough days.

Bess smirked up at him and winked. "And he positively loves folding things now that I got him a folding board," she went on. "You should see him when he uses it--making sure every piece of clothing is laid out perfectly on the board and carefully folding them into perfect little rectangles and squares. He does this little smile and nod at the end of every one as he stacks them into their specific piles. Ugh! It's so cute I could die!"

Magda broke into laughter again at the thought. Knowing the perfectionist her beloved Benny Boy was, the Hungarian could picture that scenario exactly!

"Oh, and can you believe, Magda," Bess went on as she patted her man's chest, "that this darling of a gentleman went out of his way to buy special, scented products to use on my clothes specifically?" The freckled woman smiled in complete adoration up at the silver-haired man.

Though he blushed red hot and avoided eye-contact, Wolf's lips curved into a bashful smile. He didn't believe he'd ever get tired of hearing her call him "darling".

"Oh, did he now?" Magda chortled as she smirked at the blushing fellow. As if it weren't already plain as day Ebenezar Scrooge was a man smitten beyond reason. "And, correct me if I'm wrong, Bess Dear, but I seem to recall some Instagram posts of a certain silver-haired gentleman cooking and baking?"

Bess grinned a mile wide. "You did!"

"Ho, now--wait a second," Wolf quickly injected. "I only mastered the grill--I'm still complete rubbish in the kitchen." He nudged his wife with a significant smirk. "At least, without someone there to guide me. I'm a much better assistant cook."

Bess smiled and nudged him back. "You are an excellent grill-master," she acknowledged. "And you're the best assistant cook. Especially since you volunteer to do all the dishes." She leaned in to peck a chaste kiss on the lips he offered up in a pucker. "Mmmmwah!"

Magda chuckled as she shook her head at the couple. "Laundry, house-cleaning, cooking, baking, washing dishes--I can hardly believe it, but you've actually domesticated him. Well done, Bess. Brava." The maid actually clapped which earned her a small glare from the man in question. She only snickered.

"Oh, I wouldn't go that far," Bess countered with a sly side-eye to the older woman. "I'd say he's still plenty wild and rough in many ways." She turned back to and winked at her love. "Can't sand those rough edges away completely. What would I have to hold on to?"

The trio continued their tea time with warm, lively chatter, discussing everything from America to Hungary and everything in between. Magda filled in blanks about what had happened the last few years while the Wolves (Magda explained that's what everyone had taken to calling the pair collectively--Wolf groaned at the information while Bess laughed) had been away. It was as comfortable and cozy as three long-lost friends reuniting; Bess felt silly for ever having worried in the first place. But, of course, this was just Magda. She had yet to meet her in-laws.

Speaking of the devils--it wasn't long until there was a voice that sounded much like Wolf's but couldn't be his ringing through the house: "We're back!"

A familiar, resounding bark echoed right after it, and just a moment or two later, a big, furry, golden brown blur came barrelling through the door of the sitting room. Very nearly crashing into the couple, the blur quickly changed into a whining flurry of tail wags and slobbery kisses complete with a cold, wet, inspecting nose. Wolf and Bess laughed and endured the onslaught of wet affection joyously, wrapping their arms around the beast. "Prudence!" they both cheered. They slipped from their chairs to kneel on the floor to more sufficiently love up the excited mastiff, taking turns hugging her and getting showered with drool and giving the dog back and butt-scratches as she frantically spun around between them to give them ample and equal amounts of affection. Clearly the couple had been missed and she had too.

"Oh, Prudence!" Wolf laughed as he scratched the dog down her back and up her sides. "Good old Prudence!"

Bess held the dog's face between her hands, smushing and ruffling her floppy jowls as she smooched the animal all over her giant head. "Ugh, you big, sweet, wonderful ol' meatball-head!" she giggled, touching her brow to Prudence's. "Oh, we missed you, old girl."

Grinning a mile wide with lolling tongue, Prudence promptly flipped onto her back to offer her belly up for tummy-rubs. She was quickly obliged. The dog started whining in happiness again, her tail drumming the floor and one of her back legs pedaling as just the right spots were found.

"The children are going to be upset they didn't get to see you," Wolf crooned.

"She looks great!" Bess exclaimed, noting the mastiff's healthy body weight and solid musculature. As far as her breed went, Prudence was most definitely a senior dog, as she'd already been 9 years old when Bess had first met Wolf. But you could hardly tell from the way she acted or looked: Apart from a few white hairs around her muzzle and in her brows, Prudence could have easily been mistaken for a dog a quarter her age! It was just further proof for Bess' quiet theory that this dog wasn't really a dog, but a guardian angel in canine disguise.

"Hardly looks a day older than when Marley left her with us," a warm, smooth voice chuckled. The voice was familiar to Bess' ears--almost like her Wolf's--but different enough it could easily be deciphered for someone different. By someone close to him anyway.

The couple turned their attention from the dog to the tall man dressed in comfortable slacks and a casual blue vest over a white button-down and tie. This was Ebenezer Samuel Scrooge, one-half of London's famous (and in some corners, yet, infamous), philanthropic, billionaire-bankers-and-businessmen-brothers team. Also, Bess' brother-in-law.

Wolf's mouth split into a laughing grin as he sprung to his feet and quickly closed the distance between himself and the other grinning man. "Sammy!" he boomed. He clasped his brother's extended arm as the other fellow did the same and the two pulled each other into a great hug, slapping each other on the backs.

Bess couldn't help but stare. She'd known since before she met him that her Wolf was an identical twin--complete with a set of identical names because their father had been that sort of dick--and this wasn't the first time she'd seen Ebenezer--or rather "Adonis" as she had taken to calling him since seeing pictures online. But it was still uncanny to see a man who had her husband's face but who wasn't her husband embracing her husband. The same two-toned, steel and silver hair--though Wolf's was much longer as he'd finally managed to grow it to the "rebellious" length he'd always wanted; the same large, handsome, owlish nose; the same diamond shaped face with the chiseled cheekbones and sharp jaw that could cut glass; the same, wide, intelligent brow; the same slender lips; the same bushy brows; the same endearingly large ears; even the same carefully groomed muttonchops that jackasses liked to make fun of Wolf for ("Hey, Wolverine!" "It's not the Victorian age anymore, buddy!" "Yo, where's the time-machine, pal?"). So far the only real difference Bess could see (apart from the obvious hair) was that Adonis looked a tad taller and lankier while her Wolf was a bit bigger and bulkier in the muscle, body-fat, and framing department. Not a surprise, considering Wolf had just spent the last two years living with her on her old family farm, doing farm and renovation work and eating a mixture of her and her friend Debbie's cooking (finger-licking-good, stick-to-your-ribs, homemade American faire). Identical as they were, this fact made Bess officially decide that she had the more attractive of the twins. (However, she was plenty biased.)

Still laughing, the brothers finally pulled apart, but still held each other by the arm, hands now layered warmly over hands gripping forearms.

"Criminey, it's good to see you, old boy!" Wolf sighed.

"It's good to see you, too," Adonis echoed. "Bloody hell, look at you! You look like those damn rugby players we grew up idolizing! What do the Yanks feed you over there in the States?"

"Big portions and hard work."

"I'll say. Shite, Charlie, if Dad were around to see your hair now." He reached up with both hands and ruffled his twin's hair in an obnoxious and brotherly way.

"Hey!" Wolf barked the laugh as he shoved his brother away. He drew up his fists and got into a mock fighting stance and Adonis did the same. For a second or two, the men pretended to spar, ducking and bobbing around playful punches and then, laughing, they embraced fully again.

Bess couldn't help but smile, her heart swelling with happiness that her beloved was once again back with his best and closest friend. Happy whining and thumping sounds beside her told the woman Prudence was happy with the scenario as well. Bess reached down to scratch the dog's head and ears.

"Where's your better half?" Wolf asked as they parted again.

"Taking Starry to the loo," Adonis answered. "We're finally making progress with potty-training. Oh, that reminds me. Magda?" The man looked in the maid's direction. "Would you mind going to help Connie with the twins? I believe they both are in need of changing."

Always happy to interact with the little ones in any aspect, Magda smiled and nodded. "Of course, Mr. Scrooge." She gave Bess' shoulder a gentle squeeze and a reassuring smile as she left the room.

Bess smiled after her, even as her nerves started to rise a bit. Evidently she'd quickly attached to friendly, warm, motherly Magda as something of a security blanket in this strange household, and her departure left the American feeling a bit insecure again. She shifted a bit closer to Prudence, thankful that the dog also shifted towards her in turn, probably sensing her nerves. Good, old, wonderful Prudie!

"Well, Charlie," Adonis sighed as Magda, left. He let go of his brother and moved around him in Bess' direction, his icy blue eyes (ah--another slight difference) friendly and warm despite their otherwise frigid hue. "It's been about a minute since I came in--are you going to introduce me to this lovely lady, or should I do it myself?"

Wolf chuckled and moved back to stand by Bess, slipping an arm about her waist and tugging her comfortingly into his side. His thumb traced circles on her back to help soothe the anxiousness he had seen come back to her eyes. "Sammy, this is Bess." The man smiled down at his lover as she hooked an arm around his waist for extra reassurance. "The absolute love of my life."

Bess looked up at her husband, meeting his gentle gaze (yes, she definitely preferred that cool, liquid slate-blue), wanting nothing more than to kiss the very breath from him for those beautiful, beautiful words. She loved that phrase in context to her. After years of fearing she'd never find someone who liked her let alone loved her, to be referred to as the quintessential love of someone who was her own quintessential love filled her with so many good vibes she could have exploded. The woman knew she'd never tire of hearing them.

"Well, that's quite the statement," Adonis declared smiling between the smitten pair. "You must be something very special, Lady Ness; my hard-headed, self-sabotaging twin has never said that about any woman ever."

Wolf shot him a glare. "Hard-headed? Self-sabotaging? Pot, meet Kettle."

Prudence softly ruffed in agreement.

Adonis snickered with an impish smirk. Then he stretched out his hand to Bess and clasped her hand warmly when she took it. With a gentlemanly bow, he smiled sincerely up at her. "It's good to finally meet you, Bess," he stated fondly.

"You too, Bess responded, returning the man's smile. She squeezed his hand, happy to feel it was work roughened as well, though not quite to the glorious extent her hubby's were. With her beloved Wolf by her side and the palpable friendliness and openness of her brother-in-law, Bess felt her nerves settling again. "Wolf's told me so much about you."

Adonis sent a look his brother's way. "All good things, I assume," he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

"Oh, of course, Brother," Wolf assured him more than a little sardonically. "Only ever good things."

Bess did her best to keep from smiling and laughing as all the funny and embarrassing stories about her brother-in-law her husband had told her came rushing to the forefront. She succeeded only minimally well. It was hard not to laugh at the mental image of a man as imposing as Ebenezer losing it over a creepy-crawly. Deep down she really hoped a spider or beetle would sneak into the house while they were there for the weekend; she wanted to see if Adonis really screamed as loud as Wolf claimed he would.

Adonis gave his brother a hard look. "Uh-huh." After a moment he looked to Bess again and said conversationally: "You know, he pissed the bed until he was thirteen."

Bess laughed incredulously. "What?!"

Prudence too looked up at Wolf with wide, surprised eyes and perked ears as she tilted her head in question.

A beet-red Wolf immediately jumped in. "No I didn't!" he spat angrily, giving his laughing twin a rough shove. "That's a complete exaggeration and taken out of context, and you know it!" The man then desperately turned to his wife with her goofy, amused grin and frantically tried to explain. "The only reason I wet the bed was because I'd snuck out past curfew with a group of older schoolmates and had much more alcohol than was good for me and passed out. They dumped me back in my bed and I never woke up when I needed to and..." he trailed off, painfully embarrassed by the memory.

Bess smiled sympathetically and reached up to hold his angular face in her hands. "Oh, honey," she crooned with a chuckle. "It's okay--it can happen to anybody." She smooched his nose then smirked mischievously at him. "But if you ever do that in our bed, you're on the floor with the dog."

Prudence woofed rather indignantly.

Wolf smirked back just as deviously. "For all of two minutes before you begged me back into it," he rumbled more than a little salaciously as he cocked a smug eyebrow.

Bess flushed hot and gently popped his chin in admonishment. "Ebenezar Charles!" she hissed. "We're among company!" She tried to give her man a stern look but failed as her lips frustratingly twitched into little smirks.

A shudder went through Adonis at the mental images that statement conjured up and he cringed. Imagining his brother having... relations.... "Eeeesh!" he exclaimed. "There's something I never wanted to picture."

As if in agreement, Prudence shook herself and trotted out of the room with a snort. Clearly she had better places to be if the humans were going to start discussing such things. There was a stash of bones somewhere calling her name anyway.

Wolf side-eyed his twin as he pulled his wife flush into him. He always loved the way Bess fit so perfectly against him, her curvaceous, womanly figure melding perfectly into his body; the way his hands so easily found and fit into the small of her back and other dips in her body. There was no doubt in his mind anymore that they had been made for each other--molded to fit one other specifically. "No kidding," he responded drily, shooting a pointed look at the other man. "Say, did you ever get around to finding some sort of cushioning for your headboard? I imagine the wall behind it is looking a bit rough otherwise."

Bess couldn't help but snort at that. She covered her mouth with a hand to try and stop her laughter. Her efforts weren't particularly successful.

Adonis blushed a bit and glowered at his brother. Then he smirked deviously. "No, we didn't," he replied. "As a matter of fact, Constance and I just use your bed now."

Wolf felt the color drain from his face at that statement. Whether it was true or not was a complete crapshoot, because he and his twin were masters of screwing with each other. Even so, just the mere idea that he could possibly be sleeping in a bed his brother might have shagged in, perhaps making love to his own wife in that same bed, was enough to make his skin crawl. "You're a bastard," he rasped out.

Adonis' devilish smirk turned into a somewhat maniacal grin. "Remember, we're twins, Benny Boy."

Bess looked between the brothers in utter amusement. Having four siblings, Bess was used to the ever-fluctuating nature of such relationships, and the contolled, chaotic energy between her husband and brother-in-law was immaculate. This was going to be a hell of a weekend!

"Papa?" a tiny little voice suddenly chirped in to interrupt the conversation. "Papa, Papa, Papa!"

The three adults turned to see a tiny redheaded girl in a yellow shirt, little blue capris, and teeny white shoes come toddling into the sitting room. Arms outstretched for balance, the tot had a big, gap-toothed grin on her cherubic little face, her sparkling blue eyes trained on her father. The toddler sped up into a waddle and, panting as she squeaked excitedly, darted for the tall gentleman. "Papa!"

Adonis' face softened and his grin turned warm with love as he crouched down to meet the toddler. "There's my little sundrop!" he cooed adoringly as he scooped the girl up. He smooched noisy kisses to her chubby cheeks as the little one giggled and squealed while she hugged his neck.

"Papa! That tickleth!"

Bess couldn't help but smile at the sheer adorable, wholesomeness of the situation. There was something about a big man being gentle and sweet with a small child that never failed to make her go mushy inside. And make her useless womb quiver and ache.

The American looked up at her husband again to see him staring at his brother and niece attentively. A slight smile curled his mouth. The light in his eyes was warm and soft and... maybe just a tad longing. It was hardly a secret the man had a desire to be a father, to hear a little voice call him "Papa" and catch a little child as they came running to give him hugs and kisses, too. While he was the adoptive father of Bess' siblings now and loved being their father-figure and adored being called "Uncle Ebby", it just wasn't quite enough. There was a void deep inside him that it just didn't quite fill, as much as he wished it would. He wanted to be a father to a child, from beginning to end. He wanted to experience the good, bad, and everything in between. He was honored his adopted children had hyphenated his name in after that of their own father, but even so, the man wanted a child to carry his name first and alone.

Bess reached up and cupped his sculpted cheek to draw his face back to hers. She smiled reassuringly at him, knowing what was going through his very soul at the moment because it was going through hers too. "Someday," she reminded him softly. "We'll be there someday." She stroked a tender thumb along his cheekbone and pressed her other hand to his heart. "I promise."

Wolf responded with the softest of smitten smiles he'd given her since their first morning waking up naked in each other's arms. He bowed to touch his brow to her, his stubbornly-stray lock of hair tickling both their cheeks. "How is it you always seem to know exactly what I'm thinking?" he purred, gazing into her eyes.

Bess smirked as she curled both arms back around his neck and pulled him closer. "I could ask you the same thing," she giggled.

Wolf rumbled a soft chuckle and angled his head to bring their mouths together once more. He kissed her chastely but soundly, reveling in the belovedly familiar scent of her blueberry perfume. He would forever associate blueberries with this glorious woman for the rest of his days.

"New fwiendth?" the little girl chirruped again.

The couple parted lips and turned their attention back to the father and daughter, both of whom were now gazing at them, the father much more wryly than the little girl. She gawked at them in wide-eyed excitement and fascination.

"Yes, Sweetheart," her papa answered gently. "New and very good friends." He returned his gaze to his child and smiled at her absolute enchantment with the two new adults. The man gently bounced her in his arms. "Do you remember them?" he cooed. "Hmm? You've seen their pictures and watched them on YouTube. Mama and I have talked to you about them."

The babe gasped and squealed with delighted laughter as she clapped her little hands. "Annie Bweth!" she giggled. "Unky Woofy!"

Bess couldn't help the laughter that escaped her. "Unky Woofy," she snickered to her husband. "That's definitely becoming a new pet name."

Wolf gave her the side-eye. "Don't you dare," he warned her but he smirked as he said it.

Bess only winked. She made no guarantees.

Chuckling, Adonis knelt down and placed his little girl on the floor again. The girl's feet were already peddling before she touched ground; when she finally did, she took off at a run. Or as much of a run as a waddle could reach. "Go make friends," he urged, though the child was already speeding to do just that. He smiled in adoring pride as he stood again. "Charlie, Bess, allow me to introduce you to your niece, Starla."

Unable to help herself, Bess pulled out of her hubby's arms and quickly moved towards the oncoming child, arms outstretched and hands itching to pick up the tot and snuggle her close. She loved children in general, and this stage was positively adorable (if not insanely chaotic), when they really started to come into their own as little people with little personalities and attitudes. "Oh my goodness!" the America cooed as she swooped Starla up into her arms. "Hi, Sweetheart."

Starla's gap-toothed grin beamed wide and radiant as the sun. She giggled excitedly as she reached out towards Bess, stubby little fingers wiggling and grasping for something to touch and hold on to. "Annie Bweth!" she squeaked. When Bess leaned in and pulled her a bit closer, the tot grabbed a chunk of coal-black waves and tangled it between her fingers. Her cornflower eyes widened in awe. "Ooohhh, tho pwetty," Starla quietly marveled. Then she beamed even brighter up at her auntie again. "You pwetty, Annie Bweth!"

Chuckling, Bess settled her niece on her hip and snuggled her. "Not as pretty as you, Little Sunbeam," she crooned. The woman stroked a finger down the owlish bridge of the little ginger's nose and playfully booped the tip, her heart melting at the peals of laughter that followed. Starla may have been her mother's spitting image overall, but she certainly had her father's nose. "My gosh, look at you! If you aren't the cutest little angel I ever did see. And you've gotten so big! Golly, it seems like just yesterday Wolf and I were looking at pictures of you all red and squishy."

"She's certainly turned into quite a little armful," Wolf remarked turning to his brother with a genuine smile.

"And much too fast," Adonis agreed with bittersweet sorrow. "I swear just last week she was falling asleep during tummy-time--now it takes everything Connie and I have to keep up with her.

"I remember watching your first steps," Bess told the little girl. "I do." She poked Starla's tummy and was rewarded with more happy, ticklish squeals. Could this little tyke possibly get any cuter?!

"I remember it, too," Wolf remarked moving behind his wife and putting his hands on her shoulders as he fawned over her smittenness with their niece. ("They're niece"--that sounded so wonderful!) He remembered how happy and excited he'd been for his twin that day, finally starting a family (a deep-seated desire they'd both had and forgotten until recent years) and being able to raise and watch it grow. He also remembered walking in on Bess that evening, drinking wine, watching the video, and sobbing about how she'd taken him away from his family and was a horrible person for it. He'd fallen asleep beside her that night, holding her close as he comforted and reassured her. It was the first time they'd slept together--in the literal sense of the phrase--and, while it wasn't exactly the most positive of memories in context, it was one the Englishman would cherish forever.

Starla's eyes suddenly snapped from Bess' face over to the tall gentleman gazing down at her from over her Auntie's shoulder. Her grin grew even brighter and she reached towards him. "Unky Woofy!"

Chuckling, Wolf moved around Bess and held out his hands to take the little girl from his wife. "Hello, Starla," he crooned as he settled her against his chest. "My goodness, you are quite the big girl!" He pretended to stumble and struggle to hold his niece, causing the tot to squeal and shriek with giggles. The man chuckled warmly and patted the girl's back.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Sweetheart," he said as he smiled at his niece.

Starla beamed back at him. "Nithe to meet you too, Unky Woofy!" she chirped. Then she reached up and took her uncle's chin between her pudgy hands and began to look him over carefully. After a moment, she turned to her father and waved him over. "Papa." When her father came over she reached out and placed a hand on his cheek as she kept one on her uncle's face. The little girl spent several long moments looking back and forth between the two men, her little fingers gently playing with the tickly hairs of their muttonchops. Her grin grew bigger and bigger as fascination and wonder sparkled through her baby blues.

Bess couldn't help but grin at the sweet moment. She also marveled at her niece's comprehensive observation skills for no older than she was. Of course, that shouldn't have been a surprise, considering who her parents were.

"Papa!" Starla gasped after a while. "Unky Woofy wookth duth wike you with wong, pwetty haew!" She clapped her hands in delight.

Both men chuckled. "That's right, baby girl," Adonis praised her. "Do you know why Uncle Wolfy and I look alike?"

Starla shook her head.

"We're identical twins," Wolf stated, watching his niece's adorable little face scrunch up a bit as she tried to process that.

"'Winth? Wike Thewwy an' Wobbie?"

"Sort of," Adonis answered. "Sherry and Robbie aren't identical, but Uncle Wolfy and I are identical. Identical means that we look alike and sound alike and we're both boys."

Starla looked between the men again for a minute. "Doth that mean you my papa too, Unky Woofy?" she asked as innocently as can be.

Wolf chuckled fondly and shook his head. "No, only your papa is your papa," he assured the girl. "I'm just your uncle." He smiled gently at her, a doting look in his slate eyes as he added. "But I still love you very, very much," he purred. "And you're very, very special to me."

Starla smiled sweetly and leaned forward in her uncle's arms to wrap her own stumpy ones around his neck. "Wuv you too, Unky Woofy," she said as she gazed into his face. "Mwah!" She puckered her little lips and pecked them to the pointed tip of the man's large nose in an adorable kiss.

Chuckling again, Wolf cradled the back of Starla's little, red head in his large palm and pulled her in close to hug. He softly kissed her cheek as the babe nuzzled into his neck. Blinking back the watery sting in his eyes, the former miserly recluse let out a shaky sigh as an ache deep inside his heart evaporated away. He'd needed this. He hadn't known just how much he'd needed this.

Her phone already out as she'd been snapping pictures throughout the encounter, Bess quickly collected a few more of the exchange, struggling to not melt into mush on the spot at the fluffiness of it all. Her chest was so full of warmth, she felt like exploding into butterflies and rainbows. This was just about the sweetest, cutest thing she'd ever seen! Finally, her beloved was back where he belonged--with his family. The Silver Wolf had found his pack again.

When she heard the telltale, trembling sigh, Bess slipped her phone away and moved to her husband. Pulling out a hankie she'd taken to carrying around ever since meeting her Wolf (undoubtedly a habit she'd picked up from him), she reached up and gently dabbed a stray tear off his nose. When the man opened his eyes to look at her, she smiled in gentle reassurance and understanding. The next thing she knew, her man was reaching out and curving an arm around her to pull her into the cuddle as well. Bess didn't object and melted into him, wrapping one arm around his waist and reaching up with the other to pat Starla's back.

Starla pulled away from Wolf's neck and looked Bess' way, grinning like the sun when she saw who was there "Annie Bweth!" She practically threw herself at the woman even as her uncle kept a hold on her, and hugged her auntie's face, snuffling into her soft, sweet-smelling curls. "I wuv you too, Annie Bweth!"

Bess laughed, her voice breaking a bit as her own eyes welled up with tears. She did her best to hug the child back in their awkward, somewhat tangled position. "Aw, I love you too, Sweetpea!" She looked up at her husband through a cage of toddler arms, joy and hope sparkling in her watery eyes to replace the anxiety that had once dwelt there. Her brother-in-law liked her! Her niece loved her!

His own eyes still shimmering with tears, Wolf smiled back at his wife and nodded. He hugged her closer and bowed his head to hers. He planted a kiss in her hair. "Welcome to the family, Auntie Bess," he purred into her ear. "I told you they'd love you."

@rom-e-o @ray-painter @crimson-phantom-designs @m0nsterwife @christmasgaybusinessmen @thedivinelights @purgratoriat @themostanonymousscribbler @oldmanlusting @the-house-of-auditore-frye

#scrooge 2022 #netflix scrooge #scrooge a christmas carol #ebenezer scrooge #scrooge #fanfiction #scrooge x oc #ebeness #bess scrooge #sims au #sims 4 scroogeverse #ebenezar scrooge #ebenezar x bess #magda vandergeissan #starla scrooge #uncle wolf and auntie bess #family fluff #scrooge family #fluffy scrooge

[science-lings]

For the writing prompt

Stargazing 🌠🌌

"-and you see those three stars forming an acute triangle?" Zelda pointed at the night sky painted by the colorful goddess lights, the full white moon adding to the impressive twilight illumination.

"That's the head of the King of Red Lions, beneath it are five more points that make up the rest of the boat and you can just make out the triangular sails." She traced the image with her finger in the frigid hebra air.

Link couldn't quite identify the constellation she was describing, but he wasn't looking too hard and kept getting distracted by the multicolored light reflecting off of his companion's face.

He liked to think he had an eye for beauty, more so than people expected of him. He liked to wake up early to enjoy the sunrise and had spent an astounding amount of rupees and recourses into dying all his clothes multiple times simply because he thought the colors were pretty.

So seeing Zelda's face engulfed in shifting light was at the very least, objectively mesmerizing. He couldn't help but stare, it was hopeless to tear his attention back to the stars when their beauty simply couldn't compare to the sight right in front of him.

It was probably obvious, they were huddled together for warmth, despite being wrapped up in the warmest clothes they had on top of some intense heating elixirs. There was no way she didn't notice that he was looking at her and not the stars above them, he was so close to her that he could feel the rumbling of her chest when she spoke about the legends long past. Her fingers were deeply entangled in his hair, which would make her even more aware if he moved.

Thankfully she didn't seem to mind, not when his head rested against her as she explained the relation between the stars found within ancient sheikah chambers and how they changed over ten thousand years, how her favorite constellation was one of a fairy that she used to argue all the stars could look like.

She didn't mind when his eyes slowly blinked shut as she pointed out that her mother's favorite constellation was one in the shape of a large bird, once said to be ridden by their ancestors, she wondered out loud if that's where they got the idea for Vah Medoe, and if they could make a smaller version.

At that point, she stopped talking, probably assuming that he had fallen asleep. He squinted an eye open in mild annoyance, raising his eyebrow as if to say 'did I ask you to stop?'

"I like listening to you talk." He muttered, his voice muffled by the fur from her cloak.

"Oh so you were listening, well then, what's your favorite constellation?" She didn't sound like she believed him, he shifted his head to look at the sky.

"The wolf. In the book of heroes, they have an illustration of him where they use all the little stars to make his ears look extra fluffy." He tried looking for it but all the little white dots started to muddle together in his tired sight.

"You'll have to show me some time..." The princess yawned, resting her head on top of his, "I like listening to you talk too."

"What do you think our constellations would be?" He prompted. She took several minutes to answer, promising a detailed response.

"Honestly? A silent princess. I've always compared myself to one, but I've never really been silent. I think it fits better with both of us. Besides, we're the hero and the princess of the Wild, it would be pretty outlandish to symbolize us as something less... natural."

"I like that... but a dragon would be cool too,"

"Yeah, a dragon would be cool."

Send me prompts?

#they are so beloved to me #zelink #writing prompt #ask andromeda #botw

[svechnikovvv]

300 follower special (:

to celebrate 300 followers, here’s 100 prompts i’ve compiled (: send some in with either jack, trevor, or quinn, and i’ll be answering requests!

"buy me dinner first and we'll see"

"right now? babe, we're in public"

"ooo, that's not your job anymore"

"tell me everything's gonna be okay"

"yeah, yeah, you're cute. just stop smiling at me like that"

"i'm here if you need anything, okay?"

"let me take care of you for once"

"oh my god! why didn't you tell me it was this bad?!"

"i don't like people, but you're an exception"

"you're the only one that gets to call me that, you know?"

"i crave your affection, but i crave your silence even more so shut up"

"wait... are you braiding my hair?"

"i didn't know you were the cuddling type"

"you stepped on my foot you ass!"

"that's gonna leave a bruise"

"shit! i didn't mean to break your nose"

"please, don't go"

"it hurts. it hurts so bad"

"we can't be friends"

"you shouldn't be here"

"it doesn't feel like you care"

"i need you here. with me"

"i don't know what to do"

"my heart's broken"

"where did this come from?"

"who is _____ ?"

"i shouldn't have come here"

"it's like we've become strangers"

"who hurt you?"

"who did this to you?"

"please, say something"

"i'm not leaving you here"

"after all we've been through?"

"i'm proud of you"

"you'll always have a home here"

"ohmygod, it puked on me. IT PUKED ON ME!"

"where's it's off button?"

"being a parent is difficult"

"have fun dying alone"

"you know what would make me happy? IF YOU WENT TO FUCKING SLEEP"

"sorry, i was really drunk last night"

"i can be sexy AND sad"

"don't say weird things at a kid's soccer game"

"hey, 20 dollars is 20 dollars"

"awe, you do love me"

"listen, we have very thin walls and i heard you blasting taylor swift, are you okay?"

"you locked yourself out too?"

"truth hurts, doesn't it?"

"it's good to see you"

"i need you."

"i'll be there in five"

"you're a terrible liar"

"you should keep your day job because you'll never make it as an actor"

"i brought you dinner"

"you deserve better."

"you've changed"

"you always find a way to surprise me"

"i never meant to fall in love with you, i just did"

"you're the only person i want to be with tonight"

"you're the first person i thought to call"

"if you make a noise, they'll find us. so be quiet"

"scoot over, i want to sit next to you"

"you can't stay in bed all day"

"you called me, remember?"

"what do you mean you're sick? you're my partner in crime!"

"you're such a nerd"

"i'm here for you. always"

"yeah, but you love me"

"holy shit, you're gorgeous. will you marry me?"

"are you judging me because i'm eating cake for breakfast?"

"you're not serenading me with one direction" "watch me"

"don't move, you're comfortable"

"can i use your steam shower?"

"why do i have to pretend?"

"i haven't broken into your apartment in weeks! by the way, you're almost out of peanut butter."

"is that a hickey?" "no, it's a mosquito bite"

"okay... now when is the baby?"

"i'm not crying. my eyes are sweating"

"dude, she said i have pretty eyes!"

"i kinda just ran five redlights to see you, so please let me in"

"nothing is going to change the way i look at you"

"i need to say hi to my girl"

"i don't want better, i want you"

"so this is it?"

"is this what chivalry is now?"

"i wouldn't want to spend a minute loving anybody else"

"repsectfully, shut the fuck up"

"this is why your ass loss at mario kart"

"your pancakes suck ass"

"if anyone asks, this never happened"

"don't get used to me being nice"

"i don't have a bed time"

"you're sleeping on the couch"

"i've taken five naps in the past 24 hours. personally speaking, i think something's wrong"

"i would drop everything for you"

"wake me up in 3-5 business days"

"i'm quite hilarious, actually"

"i'm sorry for calling you a little bitch"

"i've got 99 problems and i'm every single one of them"

"not my team, not my problem"

gif creds: @jurislafkovsky @jonasiegenthaler

#trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes #nhl hockey #nhl #anaheim ducks #new jersey devils #vancouver canucks

[antique-traveler]

a thrill that i have never known

so i've been Feeling Bad About Myself lately, so i wrote myself a little something to, like, cope i guess. this was written as a way for me to kind of process/look past the dysphoria i've been having recently, so it might be a little bit hashtag cringe or fail or whatever lol. baby's first ventfic i guess.

if you're trans and reading this and having a bad time like i've been, you're not alone, i know how you feel, you're well worth the space that you take up. it'll be okay <3

[note: reader's transition in this is a representation of what i want for my own transition, and that doesn't look the same for everybody. being transmasc does not require you to cut your hair, or dress a certain way, or go through with any medical procedures. a haircut or lack thereof is not necessary for you to be the gender you are.

also the book i quoted from is one of my all-time favorite books, Johnny Got His Gun by dalton trumbo. it's amazing and if you're at all interested in anti-war novels you should read it asap]

2.9k, T, Matt Murdock x Transmasc!Reader, warnings: needle/injection mention, descriptions of gender dysphoria

You’re not… afraid to tell him, per se. You know Matt, you know what a good heart he has and how slow he is to judge, but you also know that he’s straight. Which… complicates things. 

You’ve been together for nearly seven months now, and you’ve loved every second of it. But four months ago, when you realized that you’re not the woman he’s attracted to, you knew that telling him that would change everything. Each day living as her hurts, though, and you know that your options are either to hate yourself for the rest of this relationship, or be let down easy and continue your life as the man you want to be.

Today is Wednesday, and you decide to come out on Friday when you know he’ll be able to blow off steam as Daredevil after you tell him. You’re both sprawled on his couch, legs in each other’s laps, reading quietly together.

Well, he’s reading, you’re already so nervous that you’ve been stuck on the same page for the last five minutes at least. You start the paragraph again, and try to really focus on the words past the thrumming of your heartbeat in your ears. “Nobody but the dead know whether all these things people talk about are worth dying for or not. And the dead can't talk.” You chew the inside of your lip and rub the corner of the page between your thumb and forefinger, when suddenly Matt tilts his head at you and takes out the earbud that he’s listening to his audiobook through.

He pokes your arm with this foot and tilts his head. “What’s up?”

Your blood runs cold and you force yourself to stay casual. “The sky.”

“No, come on,” he says seriously, sitting up beside you and putting his earbuds and computer to the side. “You haven’t turned a page in a long time.”

“Well, maybe I just liked the page I’m on so much I wanted to read it a few more times.”

He sighs and gives you a weary look. “You’ve been… off for a few months. Sadder. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Well, there goes all chances of putting off this conversation until Friday. You both know that your heart is slamming against your ribcage and your hands are shaking, and with that knowledge you realize that you have to tell him, and you have to tell him now.

“You know, I actually was planning on telling you on Friday.” You laugh nervously, but Matt stays stone-faced. You clench your hands into fists and dig deep inside you for the courage you need. Maybe Matt will let you borrow some of his. “I– I don’t want this relationship to be over, Matty, but I think once I say this it might be.”

Matt’s brow furrows and he moves closer to you. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not anything bad,” you amend. “It’s just, um, it’s different.” Matt raises his eyebrows and beckons you to continue, and you can feel your pulse throbbing in your throat. “I don’t, um… I’m not a woman. I realized a few months ago that I– I’m trans. I’m a man.”

Matt gapes at you silently and your heart drops. He’s not saying anything, just pinching his eyebrows together as you feel tears start to gather in your eyes.

“I know that you’re straight, Matt,” you say quietly, “and I don’t want to force you to be with someone you’re not attracted to. But I– I can’t keep living as a woman, I can’t do it.” Your voice breaks and you feel hot tears start to rush down your face as Matt stays silent. You sniffle and turn away from Matt’s still form, slipping your feet into your shoes. “I’m gonna go home. I’m sorry.”

You don’t even know if you mean that last part. You know that you shouldn’t be sorry, that every therapist in the world would tell you to never apologize for coming out and trying to be who you are, but the broken, confused look in his eyes is enough to make you feel guilty for something, for anything, for everything. 

You don’t even bother to tie your shoes as you walk out of his apartment.

><><><

The forceful pounding on your door is enough to make you nearly spill your coffee as you pour it into your mug. Somehow your face still feels puffy after all the crying you did once you got home last night, and you really don’t want anyone to see you in just your pajamas right now. You don’t have a binder, and bras have become more and more uncomfortable to wear, so you’re just in a t-shirt and sweatpants, the long hair that you hate and Matt loves falling down your back in a way that makes your skin crawl.

Whoever it is knocks again, so strongly that you’re almost surprised your door doesn’t splinter into a million pieces right then and there, and you force yourself to go and answer it. Slowly, you open the door and see Matt, hair a mess, tie askew, and face looking stricken without his glasses to hide his eyes. You swallow hard and curl the hand that isn’t still resting on the doorknob into a tight fist.

“Hey, Matt,” you say quietly, waiting for the painfully gentle letdown you know is coming.

“Hey,” he replies, clearly nervous.

Neither of you says anything after that, and eventually you just step aside and let him walk past you into your kitchen.

“Coffee?” you ask, adding cream and sugar to your own mug.

“No, I– I want to talk.”

Of course he does. You sigh and take a long gulp of coffee even though it’s still a bit too hot and try to calm your nervous heart. “Okay, let’s talk.”

“What’s your name?” he asks, and you silently commend him for such a strong starting question. You tell him, and he quietly repeats it back to himself. You’re rather proud of your name, to be honest. You’d thought long and hard about it and you think it suits your personality, something which not many cis people can say.

“Why–” he clears his throat, “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”

Woof. What a question. You set your mug down and rest both your hands on the counter. “I… I wanted to hold onto us, Matt. The longer I stayed in the closet, the longer I could keep on being with you. And obviously that’s not all of it, for a while there was a certain amount of doubt and thinking about what I want going forward, but eventually it just became… not wanting to let you go.”

Matt nods thoughtfully. “What do you want going forward?”

And there’s the million-dollar question, the one that’ll cost you thousands of dollars and half of your relatives. “The whole nine yards,” you laugh nervously. “I’m getting my hair cut next week, for starters, and I’ve saved up some money for new clothes. And I want to go on hormones and get my, um… breasts removed.”

Matt is quiet for a moment before he simply says, “Okay.”

“O… kay?” You can’t for the life of you figure out what that’s supposed to mean.

“If that’s what you want,” he says firmly, walking towards you, “then okay, we can do that.”

“We?” you feel a little stupid for just parroting him again, but you’re too confused to linger on that.

“I love you,” he says as he grabs your hands, and you feel a shiver run up your spine, “all of you. And if that means I’m not straight, then I guess I’m not straight.”

You feel the prick of tears in your eyes again and you bite your lip. “Okay,” you whisper.

Matt rests a hand at your jaw and strokes his thumb across your cheek to wipe away the wetness there. “I’m not gonna stop loving you,” he says, and something in you melts.

You breathe out shakily and he wraps his arms around you, cradling the back of your head as you bury your face in his neck. He holds you tight and solid and you squeeze back, feeling the happiness and relief and hope buzz through your body all the way to your fingertips, and you’re lightheaded with the feel of him.

><><><

Three weeks later, one of Matt’s clients is throwing a party to thank him and Foggy for saving their restaurant, and Matt has suavely asked you to be his plus one. Matt will be at your place any minute to pick you up, but you still can’t tear your eyes away from the mirror. 

Your reflection isn’t perfect, there’s still so much that you can’t spare more than a glance without getting angry, but you’re slowly making your way towards looking like yourself. The cut of your pants combined with the small floral pattern on your dress shirt hides the curve of your hips well, and the short crop of your new haircut is square and strong. Your frame looks completely different with your binder, and you can’t stop running your hands over your chest. Even the shape of your new leather shoes makes you strangely giddy. 

After God knows how long, you hear Matt knock on the door, and rush out of your room to meet him.

“Hey,” you smile as you open the door, and it’s reflected on his face. 

“Hey,” he leans in for a kiss and runs a hand down your arm. When he pulls away, he moves his hand into your hair, carding his fingers through the short locs on top before tracing them over the sides and back where the barber’s clippers had shaved it close to your scalp. He smiles again as he feels your hair, and warmth floods your cheeks.

“I cut it two weeks ago,” you laugh, “you don’t have to act so surprised by it every time you see me.”

“Well, excuse me for appreciating your hair,” he says dryly, but the smile still hasn’t left his face. He kisses you again, resting a hand on your chest– he says he likes how you feel in your binder– before you pull back again.

“Are you just gonna keep making out with me or are we actually gonna go to the party being thrown for you?”

“You know, when you put it like that…” he tilts his head from side to side, pretending to weigh his options, and you push him out into the hallway and close the door behind you.

The party is warm and bright as you enter, and Foggy starts (badly) singing ZZ Top’s Sharp Dressed Man when he greets you by the bar. Matt squeezes your elbow as you blush, and you gladly accept the beer that Foggy hands you.

Each time Matt introduces you to someone, the restaurant owners or their children or the accountant, they ask if you’re his girlfriend, and each time Matt puts on a serious smile and says, “No, this is my boyfriend.”

All in all, it’s a pretty good night.

><><><

Your used needle makes a light clattering sound as you drop it into the sharps container in Matt’s– no, your bathroom, and the sound never fails to make you happy. You place a tacky Spongebob Band-Aid over the injection site on your thigh and reverently put your vial of testosterone back in the medicine cabinet above the sink. It feels slightly juvenile, but you take a moment to examine your reflection anyway. You’ve only been on T for a few months now, but your jaw is already starting to square out, and your eyebrows have gotten much thicker. You’re eternally grateful that you haven’t gotten much acne (at least, not yet), and you’ve already noticed changes in the way your body holds fat and muscle. 

It feels like watching one of those timelapse videos of seeds growing into fruit trees; each passing day, each injection and each time a stranger calls you “he” on the first try feels like you’ve just sprouted a new leaf, grown a new branch, stretched higher and higher into the sky as you grow into a strong oak tree.

Matt thinks your metaphors are a bit too florid, but you say he’s just lacking in imagination.

You walk into the kitchen that you and Matt share now in just your boxers and binder as he fills your favorite Star Trek mug with coffee. You lean back against the counter beside him and smile into the chaste kiss he gives you as he hands you your coffee. He takes in a deep breath through his nose and makes a face.

“What?” you ask, taking a brief sip of your coffee and finding it still too hot.

Matt blushes slightly. “You, uh, you smell different,” he laughs.

“Shit, did I forget to put on deodorant–?”

“No, no, it’s not bad,” he says, still smiling. “Just, your baseline scent has changed since you started T. It’s… richer?”

“I’m gonna choose to interpret that as a compliment,” you decide, “so thank you.”

“It was, and you’re welcome.”

“The many benefits of having a superhero boyfriend,” you muse. “Who else would be able to compliment me on my rich scent?”

Your voice breaks loudly on the last word and your eyes go wide. You raise a hand to your throat and laugh shyly.

“Aw, your voice is changing,” Matt coos condescendingly. “Is it time for me to give you the talk? You know, your body’s going through a lot of changes–”

You punch him lightly in the arm, and he rubs at it overdramatically while he mouths an exaggerated “ow”. 

“Shut up,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, “you’re the worst.”

Matt sighs wearily. “Ugh, puberty’s making you so moody.” He clearly means for it to be sarcastic and dry, but his smile breaks through on the last word. You just take another sip of your coffee and prepare yourself for how much he’s going to tease you for your voice breaking in the coming months.

><><><

The air in your bedroom is cool and you can hear the elderly couple above you loudly playing Etta James on their old record player. Matt’s lying beside you with a contented smile on his face while he rubs his thumb over your cheek and jaw.  “And here we are in heaven, for you are mine at last,” Etta croons from upstairs, and you smile against Matt’s hand.

“I’m glad you’re growing it out,” Matt says from the pillow next to you as his thumb grazes over your stubble again. “I think a beard suits you.”

“Me, too,” you hum. “Or maybe I just want to match with you.”

“Copying my look? That’s low.” You both laugh and Matt leans in to kiss you long and slow. Matt’s hand rests on your neck and the low hums that you make into the kiss rumble through both of your bodies. 

Before you know it, you’re lying on your back with Matt crouched over you, running his hands along your bare arms and shoulders. You don’t have the superhero physique that Matt does, but the ease with which you build muscle now is shown by the new breadth of your shoulders. Matt’s hands roam over to your chest and his fingers dance across the clean, even scars on your chest. You don’t have much sensation there, even six months after your top surgery, but feeling Matt’s touch there is enough to fill you with warmth.

Matt pulls away from your lips and kisses the stubble on your cheek, the angle of your jaw, your Adam’s apple, the crest of your shoulder, your well-healed scars, and your face burns hot with each kiss. He rests a hand on your cheek and smiles at you.

“I don’t think I ever said it,” he whispers, “but thank you.”

“For what?” you laugh, and, even after being on testosterone for a year and a half, the low rumble of your laugh still fills you with pride.

Matt smiles like the answer is obvious. “For coming out. I’m so happy I got to know this you.” He runs his thumb over your stubble for the dozenth time that night, and the only reaction you can seem to form is a shy laugh.

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

“I’m serious,” he says earnestly. “I know we were both… uncertain about how everything would continue once you started your transition. I… was afraid that I’d promised you something I couldn’t go through with; I thought I was straight and I didn’t know how long everything would last. But I just… God, I feel so lucky to know you.”

You swallow past the lump in your throat, and all you can say is, “Matty…”

“I love your voice,” he says, seemingly out of nowhere, “and I love your hair and your chest and your beard. Fuck, this is so sappy, but thank you for letting me learn that I love all of this.”

Shit, what words are there to respond to that? Your eyes feel hot and wet, and you grab Matt’s cheeks to pull him into another kiss. 

You remember that scared boy you had been two years ago the night you came out, and you feel him somewhere inside the man you are now, marveling at who you’ve become. Back then you’d thought that the best case scenario was for Matt to tell you sadly that he was straight and break your heart as gently as he could. But now your beard scratches against Matt’s as he kisses you, and he’s running his hands along your flat chest, and your voice as you moan into the kiss is deep and low, and hidden in your half of the closet is a ring box you carry around everywhere you go, waiting for the perfect moment, and you think:

God, this is what my life was always supposed to be.

#my fic #daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #male reader #trans reader #transmasc reader #matt murdock x male reader #daredevil x male reader #nmcu #netflix daredevil #daredevil fanfiction

[notmorbid]

pretend i'm dead.

dialogue prompts from pretend i’m dead by jen beagin.

sorry. i’ve made you uncomfortable with my creepy honesty.

would you care for a bear claw?

if god gives you lemons, find a new god.

i’m going to miss you. i miss you already.

you’re not even here. where are you right now?

do you live in a commune or something?

i wasn’t born like this, you know.

what’s your least favorite word?

i’ve always felt a weird affinity for monotony and repetition.

i make my living as a thief.

you smell like hope.

let’s embrace our lone wolf status.

all i ask is that you try not to judge me.

i don’t think we’re done with each other yet, do you?

could you come over? just for five minutes? i’m freaking out.

that’s why i took so many notes. i knew you’d want to know exactly what happened.

since when do you care about dying?

stay. i’ll read you a story.

i read your diary.

i fully want to make out with you again.

i’m like, totally lost without you.

i apologize for the tragic ending.

loneliness is a presence you can feel in your body.

i don’t have anyone making deals with the devil for me.

there’s something supernatural about you.

i don't like being pushed around by something i can't see.

i'm sorry. i'm just joking around, it's a defense mechanism.

you are what you talk about.

feelings are just stories. they have a beginning and an end.

don't be so sure my family wants to hear from me.

sometimes i think you make this shit up on the fly.

were you hitting on me last night?

you run like you're being chased by a demon.

you've always been good at pretending like nothing happened.

you're not ready yet. but i'll be here when you are.

it wasn't your fault. you know that, right?

what do you say? can we keep each other's secrets for a while?

which secret do you want me to keep?

hearing about myself in the past is like hearing about some other person.

god, you have a mean bone.

why are you lying?

honest to god, does that excuse ever work?

stop stalling and look at me.

when are you going to stop mocking me?

everyone has some psychic ability. you have to learn how to see first, and then you just read what you see.

do you know what it's like to be in love with someone who hates your guts?

i said i majored in ___, i never said i graduated.

i'm getting you out of here.

i've been thinking about whether or not to tell you something.

you know, there's a support group for people like you.

you and i have met for a reason.

you're either an optimist or a masochist.

just me, myself, and i. we bicker constantly.

i'll be your friend.

it was only a week, but it was the longest year of my life.

you ever own your part in anything. you make everyone else wear your shit.

i don't want a relationship. i want retribution.

#rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #dialogue meme #dialogue prompt

[neverchecking]

All the found family, all the time. One of them accidentally calls Daruk 'Dad' and there's no turning back. Teba and Saki have Ultimate Parent energy and are somehow the only other people who can even slightly truly corral the Trio aside from Tia. (They share custody.) One big family.

I do like the idea of the Champions gaining their counterpart's memories as well (even if their's are slightly more... traumatising than the Sage's) so it is a bit of a struggle at first to separate Aaliyah and Sage from their past selves, but they've also been through this before. I think Champ would've been a lot more like Cal due to the pressure put on him, despite Tia's efforts to shield him from that. So while it would take them a little bit to adjust, it's also a quicker adjustment than one would assume. They still slip occasionally, but no more than they do with Champ or accidentally get Champ and Sage confused. I doubt there's any real hard feelings about it since they all know how confusing this is.

But also Daruk snuggling with Aaliyah like a particularly feral kitten trying to take chunks out of him while he thinks it's cute. Aaliyah is just straight up gnawing on him.

Even when Tia enlists his help to try and get her to slow down for five minutes Petal ffs you're 8 months pregnant!

Tia just plucking her feral idiots out of the air gives me life. She spent a lot of time being slung over shoulders now it's her turn to haul them off.

Only Aaliyah gets a little bit more leeway than the boys because she's the one who listens to all of Tia's bitching during teatime. It's gotten to the point Aaliyah started spiking her tea and Tia's not far behind.

("I just want to share some intimacy and closeness and get my back fucking blown out. Is that so much to ask?"

"Tia, I am begging you. Please stop talking about that asshole. I will hear anything else."

"Petal. Petal, I have plans for those scarves and Twi's pelt. I am going to make such a mess of those men. If I can still walk the day after my wedding, I've failed and will need to remedy it for the whole day."

"Tia. Please. How the fuck do you even know about this? You are so virginal and yet!"

"When my study isn't fucking occupied, I read."

"..."

"A lot.")

Tia just wants to get laid, but her three are so respectable and honorable and courteous. Can't they take at least a little bit of advantage? Just a smidgen? Anything?!

It's getting to the point Aaliyah wants Tia to get laid and Tia getting laid isn't something she wants to think about. The day one of them figures out how to make like 99% effective contraceptive tea is the day both of their problems are solved. (Look Tia deserves to have her back blown out. With the amount of bullshit she's been through, minimised or generally averted, she deserves this and so help her, Aaliyah if one of you intervenes, you're all dead to her.)

The biting thing becomes a massively running joke, especially after Tia breaks the streak. One that suddenly turns on them when Tia starts deliberately turning it into a "It has been x amount of days since Tia last gave a hickey to one of her suitors." which in turn Sage takes as a challenge and well, at least none of them are biting the general population any more. The jokes at the wedding get wild.

FNOFNF One of them accidentally dropping the 'D' word and the fam just never letting them forget it. Teba and Saki are the parents man. They're calling the four at like 3 A.M. being like "Where are you?"

"...Bed."

"Wanna try that again?"

"No."

They just have that sixth sense, ya know? HOGHG They have custody days <33

I feel kind of bad that the champs get the memories of like...dying. I doubt Sage and Aaliyah take it personally, but like...It does kind of put them off for a second. Like, they kind of have to take a moment and remind themselves its not on purpose. And it's probably a quicker adjustment like you said. They still slip, but it's momentary and quickly fixed.

I love the idea of people just confusing Champ and Sage until they do something so undeniably them that they're quickly reminded of whose who.

NOFNF Yeah Aaliyah is using the Gorons as a personal chew toy <3 bc they don't feel a thing. And the Zora chew them back >:( And the Rito's have feathers >:(( And the gerudo are all muscle >>:(((

Its a group effort to keep her off her feet at that point. Sage keeps them handcuffed <33

Tia being the buff baby <3 We love her. Dragging away the trio like its nothing.

Aaliyah is the favorite and they can't say anything about it so they just sit there like >:(

Aaliyah doesn't even hide it at one point and Tia just downs like three shots like its nothing. Then just spills her guts. At this point, Aaliyah knows the blond's fantasies better than her own..

("I just know he's a giver. I just know it."

"Tia, please. I don't care. At this point I'd be more willing to hear about Cece's Day."

"I'm telling you. I want to be carried in the day after my wedding day. Like just no usage of my legs. At all."

"I think I'd chew my own ears off rather than listen to this-"

"I mean absolutely just destroyed-"

"OKAY-"

"...You and Sage gonna have to run the kingdom for a day-"

"STOP TALKING-")

Tia fighting for her life fr- Like her boys aren't even holding her hand. They're sitting with enough room for Jesus Hylia in between them and her, hands in their laps. It drives her nuts. Like if she can just get them to brush up against her, she'd be okay for the night.

Aaliyah doesn't wanna think about anyone's sex like other than her own, and now she's being forced to. At this point, it's her life's mission to find a contraceptive. She does find a couple (Wild Carrot Seed, smartweed leaves, Rutin, etc.) and she nearly cries in relief. Its practically thrown in their faces before shes stomping off, yelling about how she doesn't wanna hear shit anymore. (That does not stop her from hearing all of the nitty gritty details, but after that point Aaliyah assumes it's fair game and is able to go into just as disgustingly intimate detail.) At that point, Aaliyah is helping to distract Sweetpea and Sage. Just dragging them off to some made up duty she pulls out of her ass.

The biting thing is their biggest inside joke. Until Tia turns it. Then it turns back into that when Sage turns it back on her. Aaliyah comes so close to buying a muzzle. The general public is relieved that their no longer at threat to being bitten, but everyone else who has to deal with these two are not happy >:(

FIFBF THEIR WEDDINGS (All three) WOULD BE SO MUCH FUN FHOFBF

#cinder rambles #switch au #with aaliyah and tia :)