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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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My Love, My Soulmate

Request: Hi there - I see your requests are open! Would you consider a Marauders era Sirius x reader for a Soulmates au? With Sirius resisting of course! Tattoos, colour, dreams - I don’t mind which you choose. Nice angsty/fluff mix with a tiny bit of zest?! 💕 - @fific7

A/N: Here’s your request! I hope you like and I hope it meets your expectations! There’s a little bit of fluff, little bit of angst and a little bit of zest. I’m unsure of whether my explanation of soulmates makes sense but I still like it nonetheless. Also, I 100% believe that the teachers at Hogwarts had like a bet on which students would end up together and that they thrived on gossip.

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: swearing, making out, eludes to sex, angst. If there is anything I've missed, let me know and I’ll add it immediately.

Word count: 3.4k

It starts as a burn. As if you’ve caught yourself on your curling wand. A short, sharp shock of pain and it’s over.

Pulling your wrist from your chest, you peek at the two letters now engrained onto your skin. A mark no bigger than the size of a muggle penny coin details your soulmate’s initials. There in magical black ink are the letters: S.B.

You lie back with a groan, pulling your pillow over your face to hide away the emotions. It seemed the fates were playing a sick game with you when they decided to make Sirius Black your soulmate.

The initials of your soulmate appears on your wrist on your seventeenth birthday. As far as you know, it is only a phenomenon that occurs within the wizarding community. Muggles, for the sake of their hearts, believe in soulmates but will spend their lives trying to find their perfect match. For wizards, the soulmate mark is the result of the countless hunts for witches and wizards across history. As society progressed and began to hunt those who did not seem to fit with the norms, the fates decided that every witch and wizard would find their soulmate at the age of seventeen as a way to protect the population. It would manifest in a bond between the soulmates; only felt between the two individuals.

As witches and wizards went underground and hid their identities, the soulmate mark and the subsequent bond became a thing of fairy tales told before bedtime. Little girls and boys lulled to sleep with the idea that somewhere in the big, wide world there was someone waiting for them.

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Sirius sees the initials on his wrist and knows immediately whose they are. Your face flashes in his mind and he groans as he falls back onto his pillow.

For so long, he has dreaded this day. He believed in soulmates, he did. His own parents were soulmates; their initials marking each of their wrists. But they were completely wrong for each other, and he slowly saw his mother become poisoned with his father’s vitriol. From a young age, Sirius had always questioned the magic behind soulmates. If they partnered someone as lovely as his mother with someone as mean as his father then he couldn’t put much stock in the whole institution.

He watches you that day; checking for any reaction for whether his initials had been marked onto your wrist. The day ends with him feeling disappointed; you either hadn’t got the marks yet or you were an exceptionally good actress. Your face gave nothing away the whole day other than curiosity when you caught his eyes on you for the third time.

You were the complete opposite to him. He loved heavy metal music; you preferred the crooning sounds of artists such as Frank Sinatra and Louis Armstrong. Sirius had heard you hum their songs under your breath enough that he was sure he knew the lyrics to them.

You think pranks are childish and they have the potential to be a real danger; he disagrees, he thinks that pranks can be a work of genius if the right amount of planning and preparation is put into it.

Sirius frowns; he didn’t think he paid you this much attention. You had never flowed in the same social circle; conversations between the two of you limited to classes where communication was only necessary if you were sat together. He found you attractive, that much he could not deny. But the fear of turning out like his parents loomed over him; prevented him from taking it any further.

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“He couldn’t be any more my polar opposite!” You moan to your friend, Jude.

It had been a month since Sirius’ initials had appeared on your wrist, and for all of your wondering, you could not figure out how Sirius worked out to be your soulmate. There was so little you had in common. The only things being your academic status and a love of books. It was rare to see Sirius with a book when he was in a crowd, but when it was him and the Marauders in the common room, he could be found with a leather-bound book open on his lap. His eyes would scan the pages so fast, you wondered if he was truly reading the words on the page.

Jude pats your head, “Yes, you’ve mentioned.”

“Jude… I need a little more sympathy here, please.”

She frowns, “It’s hard to dredge up more sympathy when all you’ve done is complain since you found his initials, my dear.”

You frown back at her, “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. I’ve been an arse about this – who knows? Don’t they say opposites attract?”

Jude smiles at you, “I do believe that is the saying.”

“Well let’s hope it’s true then.” You murmur, your eyes landing on the shaggy-haired Marauder sat further down the table from you. His friend, James, elbows him, pointing over to you when Sirius protests his elbow. Your heart starts to race the minute you lock eyes with Sirius; for a singular moment, everything else seems to fade away and your vision solely focuses on him.

The moment is broken when Sirius turns away with a scoff.

The hope that had begun to grow within you quickly dims. You let your head fall onto your arms, “I don’t think he likes me, Jude.”

Jude tuts, sending a glare down the table to where the Marauders sit, “Then he’s a prick.”

“That’s my soulmate you’re talking about.”

Jude shrugs, “He’s still a prick. If you were my soulmate, I’d be over the moon.”

“You’re too good to me, Jude.”

“I know.” She states, “Now, come on, we’ve got Charms first and I want to practice the Deletrius charm, I’m certain it’ll come up on the summer exams.”

You let her drag you out of the Great Hall by the hand, feeling Sirius’ eyes on you with every step you take.

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Filius Flitwick was an exceptional teacher and an interesting man – but he was also notorious for loving gossip. The staff room at Hogwarts was always rife with gossip when another pair of students had found their soulmate in each other. Professor McGonagall would always claim that she had known from the start; Flitwick was not one to argue with her. Besides, she was probably right.

The staff room was positively rioting when news hit of Sirius Black finding his soulmate in (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Professor Flitwick wanted to question the match given how at odds they were to each other, but he knew never to argue with the fates.

Professor Flitwick had changed the seating plan.

He changed the seating plan so Sirius would be sat next to (Y/N). The teachers at Hogwarts all promised to not intervene with soulmates, yet they all did. Professor McGonagall would be happy to hear of this prompting; she had been worrying over Sirius Black finding his soulmate for longer than she cared to admit.

Walking into Charms, you saw that the class was lined up against the back wall. You grumbled to yourself; the last thing needed was a new seating plan. You got on well with the Ravenclaw girl you were sitting next to, you didn’t want any more change.

Your stomach dropped to the floor when Professor Flitwick announced that your new place would be next to Sirius.

You felt as if you were in two minds. Since seeing his initials on your wrist, you were drawn to him – wanting nothing more to be in his orbit. Yet, the look on his face as he turned away from you in the Great Hall had dread unfurling in your stomach as you walked towards your new seating place.

“Sir, what was wrong with the old seating plan?” Sirius asks, refusing to take his seat next to you.

“Seating plans need to change to better fit the needs of the students, Mr Black. Please take your seat next to Miss (Y/L/N) so I can begin my lesson.”

Sirius grits his teeth as he slides into the seat next to yours. His entire body tense while he opens his parchment and prepares his quill and ink.

It doesn’t take long for the atmosphere to change between the two of you.

It’s like electricity, or so you think. The space between the two of you hums to life and you can feel the change. You gasp involuntarily, biting your lip as goose bumps break out across your skin at the mere notion of having Sirius this close to you. You know he hears your gasp and you know he feels the same as you; he shifts imperceptibly to try and stave off whatever he’s feeling but he’s finding it harder and harder to resist you.

It’s the bond between soulmates, you think to yourself. The bond was a living, breathing thing between the pair whether it was accepted or not.

The class drags on for what feels like hours. Sirius gives up trying to pay any attention to Professor Flitwick and instead, focuses on resisting the urge to drag you from the classroom.

He practically throws his things into his bag when Professor Flitwick dismisses the class at the sound of the bell.

“Sirius, I need to talk to you.” You call, following him from the classroom.

“I know what you want to talk about, and believe me, I was just as shocked as you were when I found your initials on my wrist.”

“But what do we do about it?” He can hear the hope in your voice and see the promises in your eyes.

It almost breaks him when he says, “Nothing. We do nothing.”

Your mouth drops open, “What? Why?”

“I didn’t choose you.”

“It isn’t a choice, Sirius. The fates decide soulmates, everyone knows that.”

“Still. I didn’t choose you.”

His words land this time; each one a blow to your heart. Tears prick at the corner of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall, gritting your teeth to stop them. You would not show an ounce of weakness in front of him. Anger rises within you, turning your blood to flame.

You glare at the teenager in front of you, spitting the words, “I wouldn’t have picked you for me either, but the fates did Sirius and it’s something that we both have to live with.”

You turn away from him, leaving him there in the corridor. You barely make it to the common room before the tears start to fall and your breath falls short due to the sobs heaving from your chest. You blindly make your way to your room, pausing now and then to wipe the tears from your eyes and to berate yourself for crying over a silly boy.

But he isn’t a silly boy; he’s your soulmate and he rejected you. That lone thought has the tears beginning all over again as you hide yourself under your duvet, making sure to pull on all the curtains around your bed.

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His rejection of the bond did nothing for your feelings. If anything, they made them stronger, but you knew that you could not act on it. Sirius had made his feelings for you clear so you settled for loving him from the sidelines; watching as he hid his wrist whenever he started to flirt with other girls.

It destroyed you, but he had made his decision. You would not push him on this.

In such a short amount of time, you had gone from barely recognising Sirius as a friend to being his soulmate to being completely in love with him. Whenever you thought of your feelings for the Marauder, you felt dizzy because of how fast it had all happened. If this was the magic of soulmates, you felt whiplashed.

Jude remained your rock; handing you tissues and listening to your complaints. She had found her soulmate; a Slytherin named Poppy. And yet, Jude remained by your side through it all. Poppy joining her more often than not, and a close friendship developed between you both. You felt like a burden to them; ruining their happiness with your sadness but they assured you that they would have a lifetime to be happy. But they wanted you to be happy too – which you were working on.

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Sirius felt awful. Truthfully, he felt empty. And he had done since he said those words to you after Charms class.

He felt the idiot; he felt the fool. He could see how it was affecting you and knew that it was mirrored on his own face. He was just so scared of turning out like his parents; of fulfilling the cursed cycle all the couples in his family seem to take. First, loving each other passionately before turning to hate each other down the line. If that happened with you, he would never forgive himself.

He watches you from across the room. Your nose stuck in a book that he’s seen you read a thousand times over the last month; as if this particular book is a comfort read. He takes a deep breath before walking over to you.

“Can we talk?” He asks you, motioning to the stairs that lead to the boys dormitories – the only place in Gryffindor tower where there is privacy.

You nod, not trusting your voice around him. You wanted so badly to say no, that he has to earn that right but looking into his eyes, seeing the small light of hope there. You had to say yes. Your mind rebelled, throwing every logical reason at you, but your heart won out and you were following him up the stairs before your mind could catch up.

Sirius holds the door open for you. You duck inside, stopping in the middle of room. Tensing slightly as you hear the door shut.

“Can I be honest with you?” He asks, joining you in the middle of the room.

“Of course.”

“I didn’t want to reject the soulmate bond.”

“What?” A hot flash of anger pangs through your body – how dare he say that? How dare he say that after the pain you’ve been through watching him with other girls and keeping your mouth shut.

“I didn’t want to reject the soulmate bond.”

“Then why did you? Why have I sat by for a month with a broken heart?”

He voice is small when he replies, “I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t want us to be like my parents,” He confesses, “They’re soulmates yet entirely wrong for each other. It’s like that with every couple in my family, and I would never forgive myself that happened to us. So I pushed you away, told you I didn’t want the bond and then flirted with other girls to dig it in. It was a shitty move, and I am so sorry, but I can’t do it anymore. I don’t want to stay away from you, I want to be with you.”

“Sirius, I just spent the last month of my life wondering what was so wrong with me that you couldn’t possibly love me. I sat by and tried to be happy for my best friend who had found her soulmate, but I couldn’t because my heart was in pieces. I watched you flirt with other girls as if I was nothing to you and it broke me. And it was because you were scared? Sirius, you should have talked to me. I know that we didn’t socialise much before, but you should have told your fears when my initials showed up on your wrist. I am your soulmate; I am supposed to help you through it all.”

Sirius falls to his knees before you, pressing his face to your stomach, “I know, I know. You’re right, and if I need to I’ll stay on my knees and beg for your forgiveness even though I don’t deserve it. But we can do this right? We can be together?”

Your hands begin to card themselves through his hair without thinking, “Sirius…”

He shakes his head, “There aren’t enough words in the English language for me to tell you how sorry I am. I felt it too; I felt the heartbreak and the sadness. I shouldn’t have done it, but my fear outweighed my logic.”

“We aren’t going to be like your parents.”

“But how do you know?” He whispers, fear creeping into his voice.

Your hand cradles his cheek, “Because I’ll remind you… every single day if I need to. I’m not saying I forgive you immediately, but I want this to work. The fates gave me your initials for a reason; I felt our bond in Charms, we are destined to be together.”

Sirius presses his face into your hand, dropping a kiss to the palm, “I didn’t mean it, you know. If I had to pick anyone to be my soulmate, it would be you. I am honoured that it is you.”

“You mean it?”

“I do. You’re perfect for me, and I think I’ve already fallen in love with you.” He states, eyes shining with unshed tears.

You close your eyes, his words feeling like balm spread over the gaping wound of your heart, “Thank god, because I’ve fallen in love with you too. I didn’t mean it either, I would always pick you.”

You are in his arms in an instant; his mouth hot and insistent on yours. His hands roam over your body. Your hands in his hair, grabbing a handful to keep him pressed to you. At the feel of his touch, all previous reservations fly out of your mind – the only word running through your brain is his name being repeated like a prayer. His touch feels so right, and you simply give in to what your heart has wanted since the night you saw his initials.

He walks you back towards the bed, never once pulling his lips away from yours. He only pulls away when he lays you down on top of his covers; you lie underneath him happily, enjoying the feeling of his lips leaving open mouthed kisses down the expanse of your neck and collarbone. His hands undo the buttons to your shirt, and you shift so he can push your shirt from your shoulders. He latches his lips back to your collarbone, sucking a mark there that will surely be a dark bruise by morning.

Your hands shove the hem of his t-shirt up; he pulls away from your body for long enough to take the shirt off. The minute its gone; your hands run over the expanse of his stomach, savouring the feeling of his muscles contracting at your touch. You pull his face back to yours, desperate to feel him. Your lips glide together seamlessly; as if made for each other.

Sirius runs his hands down your sides; memorising every curve of your body, grinning into the kiss as you shiver underneath him. You bite down on bottom lip; a move that has him moaning into your mouth.

“I need to know…” He whispers into your mouth; the words barely heard as they’re swallowed by you.

“What?”

“Do you want to do this?” He asks, pulling away from your mouth to run his eyes over your face, checking for any hint of hesitation whilst simultaneously asking for permission.

Your eyes sting with the tears at his care for you. You kiss him sweetly, lovingly before looking into his eyes, “I want this. I want it to be with you.”

That’s all he needs to know before he’s casting a silencing charm on the room and locking the door.

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Sirius finds it hard to keep his hands off you after the acceptance of the bond. He has to be touching you at all times whether it’s a shoulder pressed against yours, his hand holding on tight to yours, or his arms around your waist. It keeps him grounded, it keeps him calm when the stresses of life begin to settle in.

He thinks back to the beginning of your relationship; how cruel he was, and he looks at you in awe because he still doesn’t understand how you could forgive him – let alone, love him. On the days where those thoughts plague his mind, he places kiss after kiss on the mark on your wrist where his initials sit.

You know the meaning behind these kisses, knowing he’s torturing himself internally. On these days, you draw his attention from your wrist to your mouth instead where you remind him of how much you love him and how you’ve forgiven him for those early days.

His fears are quashed and his love for you only grows. You’re his soulmate, he’s yours. It’s as simple as that.

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General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff

Sirius Black taglist: @cheapglitter @fific7

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genesisrose74 · 3 years

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Christmas With the Karasuno Boys (HC’s)!!

Part 2: Kageyama, Hinata, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, Kinoshita, & Narita

Part 1 (Daichi, Suga, Asahi, Nishinoya, Tanaka, & Ennoshita) here!

A/n: Tumblr said my word count was too much so I’m splitting this bad boi up into two parts :p Enjoy!!

*****

Kageyama

This boy has a secret soft side for Christmas istg

He HATES showing it to other people on his team and shit

But holy bejeezus he is mesmerized by the holiday in every way possible

Lights, sweets, snow, just like,,, the general magic of December is the most awe-inspiring thing to him

Since he is still a sporty and pretty active mofo, you decided to fuel that on your holiday-themed date as Kags had noted that he’d never gone sledding before

Your jaw was on the FLOOR when he first told you because he would 10000% enjoy the hell out of it

And so you dragged him out to this popular sledding hill that you frequented as a child and taught him what to do

Not gonna lie, he was kind of nervous

“Well you’re experienced at it. I don’t wanna mess up”

🥺🥺🥺 bubby

“You won’t, Tobio! I can already tell you’re gonna be a sledding pro”

Feels a little better after that, but he asks you to help him out for his first run down the hill

He sits behind you with his arms secured snugly around your waist and his head nestled on top of your shoulder

Which would probably seem really funny to passerby because this boy is tol and intimidating in most other situations

As soon as the sled started down, Kags tightened his grip and made this cute little yelp of surprise

But you were laughing insanely hard at the combination of going really fast downhill whilst also having your boyfriend cling to you for dear life

And then when the sled stopped safely at the bottom he started to chuckle

FULL ON, GENUINE SOUND OF ENJOYMENT

That shit is rare

Y’all stayed at that hill for half the day because it was so fun

You got him a new, very high quality athletic roller for Christmas because his old one was just not cutting it anymore

And you also gave him this really cute bracelet with a volleyball, his jersey number, and a little strawberry milk set of charms attached to it

It matched this really pretty and subtle chain he’d bought for your birthday

His blueberry eyes got all wide with affection dfjdskfjsdk—

Got super blushy and couldn’t get a handle on his speech for a fat minute

He thinks you’re the coolest person ever no I do not take criticism

Geez you’re both adorable together, ideal “stoic boy becomes warmer during the holidays around his love” movie plot and I love it

Hinata

He is all in on Christmas. Not a chance this boy doesn’t get excited as hell

Will openly go into holiday mode as soon as November is over

Was secretly already listening to his Christmas playlist before then

He is one of the sweetest gift givers, that is FACTUAL

If you want something really badly, he will take notice and get it as your present immediately

He’ll also gift you an extra thing that’s handmade 🥺

Like some pastries that his mom helped him make, or a specially made basket of soaps with your favorite scents in it

It’s absolutely adorable and you cherish those ones especially

Is happy if you simply get him something; mans doesn’t care what it is

New practice volleyball? A brand new sweatshirt? Elated either way

You had seen an advertisement for a friendly match between Japan and Poland’s men’s volleyball teams, so you waited online on the ticket sales website until the minute it opened

Spoiler alert: you got some banger seats 😌✨

Shoyo may or may not have tackled you when he read the ticket details, letting out his excited giggle (you know the one)

“I can’t believe you got these, angel! You’re coming with me, right? You’ve gotta! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

Gives you sweet little kisses between each individual ‘thank you’

“Of course I’ll go with you, Sho! I’m really glad you like it!”

He will give you the brightest smile of all time — that shit makes Christmas lights pale in comparison

“Have I told you how much I love you?”

RIGHT BACK AT YOU BBY

Hold his hands to warm up together when temperatures drop pls :)))

It’s become a weekly December tradition to watch a Christmas movie with Natsu at the Hinata household

She’ll sit in your lap while the three of you are cuddled under a blanket together, and Shoyo will lace his fingers with yours all discreetly

In conclusion, I am a sucker for holiday Hinata 🥺🥺🥺

Tsukishima

His room is decorated to the very minimum simply because his mom and brother had insisted on him being festive

You know those holiday instrumentals that are really calming and jazzy and stuff? Yeah, that’s the only Christmas music he will tolerate in his house

While he’s still got his usual icy demeanor, this blond bitch does get slightly less snippy with the Karasuno boys

Is always on the nose with getting you the exact thing you wanted for a present

Like,,, TO THE SMALLEST DETAIL

You don’t even have to bring that shit up beforehand, he just KNOWS

“Tsukki, how did you—?”

“It’s pretty obvious, with the way that one ad kept showing up on your phone.”

b r u h

How does he pay such good attention without even letting on??

As for his own present, you’ll usually get him two: one gag gift and one more serious gift

His dino plush collection size is partly due to the former’s contributions this time of year

Yes the dinos have names

You exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve with all the team (you made him go) and he saved your more serious one for last

It was a scarf that you’d gotten custom made, which had a Spotify code knitted into the fabric

Scanning the code opened the app to a playlist you’d created especially for him

He got pretty quiet when figuring it out and scrolling through the playlist

Would let out a certified Tsukki Nose Exhale™ when he came across certain songs

The more subdued reaction was expected because it’s Tsukishima

His little chuckles and warmer eyes were enough of a giveaway to tell you he very much enjoyed your gift

But on the walk home, he took the scarf and wrapped it around you both, and then brought his arm around your waist

“Thank you.”

You deadass almost combusted because it was so unexpected??

“You’re welcome. Merry Christmas, Kei”

Way to respond calm and collected 😌👍

But on the inside your body was in freak out mode

He wears the scarf all the time jdfsklfjdsk

Yamaguchi

Take the most tooth rotting fluff you could imagine

And then double that and put a fucking cherry on top

That’s the equivalent of what Christmas is like with Yama Yama

Y’all are like kids in a candy store — literally

For your Christmas dates it’s all about sweets and shared giggles, so frequent trips to the candy and baking isles of the grocery store is a must

Making gingerbread houses, peppermint tasting (mostly trying those different and wild ass candy cane flavors), you name it and it’s there

Stomach aches? I don’t know her

Yeah you do but they go away with enough butterfly kisses 🥰

Tadashi is exceptionally good at decorating gingerbread houses for whatever reason

He put a poll on his instagram between yours and his final products and he won by a landslide

It’s not like yours was necessarily bad, more like he’s just an icing master

You also might have eaten too many gumdrops which left your rooftop lacking in ✨spice✨

But it’s okay because Tadashi donated some of his leftovers to you

He’s such a sweetheart uwu

Please for the love of everything get him something heartfelt as his present

You know those long distance bracelets for couples?

Basically if your s/o taps the icon on the bracelet it’ll send a little vibration to the other person’s as a notice that you’re thinking about them

This boy seeks constant reassurance, and you love to give him his deserved love and validation, so it was the perfect present

It takes a second for him to figure out what it is, but after reading the directions and testing it out, the most adorable smile erupted on his face

And then since you already had yours on, he tapped the little icon again with a giggle

“Hey there”

It becomes common habit to tap it at least once every couple hours

GOD HE IS SO CUTE

He is just so soft this time of year, give him all the love and he will return it tenfold ☺️

Kinoshita

This boy is absolutely an awkward cutie and an avid romantic

Give him the cliches and he will eat em up, no doubt

It naturally gets more apparent around the holidays

He’ll take you on pretty winter walks, give you lots of little gifts (while blushing a hell of a lot), and is just a professional at stumbling upon some mistletoe

Wow wonder how it got there, Hisashi

He’s quite a bit more confident when simply alone with you than in a crowded space

And that definitely shows when he takes you out on a secluded sleigh ride around town

Yeah you heard me

A fuckin’ sleigh ride

Horses and blankets and everything

Don’t even ask how he managed to pull it off, because he loves watching the cogs turn in your head and simply will not give you a straight answer

Of course there’s the nice driver guy who’s there, but in the back alone Kinoshita’s confidence goes 📈📈

Lots of flirting, tons of skimmed touches and shared giggles throughout the ride

I legitimately simp really hard for him

Anyways it was a gorgeous ride through town and super fun

On Christmas Eve you both exchange gifts together and tbh whatever you got him will leave him happy and flustered regardless

But when he opens the wrapping paper to find an entire set of vintage VHS tapes, he’s stunned

He owns a VHS (actually canon!) and honestly loves it to death, and the fact that you’d get him tapes of pretty high quality for his collection meant a lot

Gosh he’s so underrated but a definite sweetheart, give him all the holiday love

Narita

Another underrated bby 🥺

He’s so chill and is pretty open to anything during the holidays, so long as he gets to spend ample time with you, his friends, and his family

Definitely more of an indoor person despite being accepting of most situations

Hence why you thought a cute little indoor winter picnic would be right up his alley

Which it absolutely was 😌✨ nice work

You’d made plans while in secret communications with his family members about the whole thing

He’d been pretty stressed lately with trying to handle his schoolwork, while also helping out others with theirs

Despite being a wonderful tutor, it was clearly becoming a bit overwhelming as he tried to grapple with so much at once

So when he came home one day to find a pristine house with you settled on a blanket in his living room, he was quite surprised

There’s a cheese plate, soda cans in a cute ice box, sandwiches, snacks, a presparked fireplace — you and his family went all out

Really adorable I cannot lie

“I thought you said you were going gift shopping today?”

“I might have maybe lied :P”

So he gives the sweetest little smile and sits across from you

Y’all stay there and talk for hours

After finally getting through everything previously laid out on the blanket spread, you slid him a little rectangular box that he looked at curiously

“Already? I haven’t wrapped yours yet!”

“Mine can wait a bit! Just open yours”

And so he does, and you watch with a face-splitting grin as he looks down in awe

You got tickets to see his favorite rock band in concert while they were on tour

He sprung onto you and pulled you into the tightest hug ever

“Holy shit you’re the best I love you so much how do you get even more loveable every day—!?!l”

It’s a jumble of words but you’re able to put it together and it makes you giggle

He deadass sprints upstairs to go get your gift and make sure that you feel as equally appreciated as he does

In simple words: wholesome holiday sweetness 🥰

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andorerso · 3 years

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secret love song

Princess of Lah'mu, Jyn Erso, is sick of pining after her royal bodyguard. So there's only one solution, really. Thrust into him into the arms of another.

(Certainly, she's had better ideas.)

“You should dance with her,” Jyn says when Cassian approaches her for the first time that evening. No doubt hoping to ask her for a dance instead.

Jyn knows that he doesn’t care much for this sort of dancing – he’s always preferred the lethal sort of two steel swords clashing together. But he’s polite enough to ask anyway, at every ball, without fail, for one dance. Only one because Cassian never wants more than what he can have and because Jyn always has someone else to dance with, some other aristocrat to entertain.

But it doesn’t matter; to Jyn, her one dance with Cassian is always the highlight of her night.

Now, she’s too frustrated—upset to dance with him. It’s better if she puts some distance between them. She thinks she’s going to embarrass herself if he comes too close.

“With who?” Cassian inquires, confusion written across his handsome face.

Jyn nods towards the lady, dressed in wine purple, brown hair elegantly twisted up in a bun, not unlike her own. She stands next to the grandiose fountain in the middle of the room, pretending to gossip and giggle with her friends, but Jyn sees her glancing at Cassian every couple of minutes like a moth drawn to a flame.

Helena Krennic is the daughter of Orson Krennic, who is co-owner of the Lah’mu Railways Company and founder of Krennic Bank, therefore a very important individual that she must impress – according to her royal advisor, at least. Helena herself is an accomplished pianist, an esteemed painter, an occasional poet, and an admirer of Cassian Andor, apparently.

Cassian swivels in the direction Jyn gestured towards, his frown deepening.

“Why?”

“Because she’s been looking at you all night,” Jyn answers, relieved to hear that her voice is not quite as bitter as she feared it would be. Yet, she can’t completely hide the contempt either.

“I haven’t noticed,” he says, and she knows he’s being honest. When it comes to battle, nothing escapes his attention, but with the ladies, he’s hopeless.

(Has he noticed that Jyn, too, has been looking at him since she was fifteen? No, he has not. Or perhaps he’d thought her crush childish. Perhaps he hadn’t realized that as she grew up, so did her feelings for him. She’s no longer a young girl admiring her older, braver, skillful royal bodyguard. She’s a woman who’s fallen in love with the forbidden fruit.)

She knows Helena isn’t to blame – Jyn has no claim on Cassian, who is a handsome young man, and whose noble job of protecting the princess made him even more appealing to certain people. Ladies have noticed him before. And while some find his background and lowborn status disagreeable, others deem it a testament of talent and ambition that he could rise as far as to be Jyn Erso’s royal bodyguard at such a young age. Rags to riches is an appealing fairytale. And Helena appears to be a fan of fairytales.

Jyn hates Helena for that. She hates herself for wanting Cassian, and she hates Cassian for being so damn wantable and for not wanting her back. Or if he does, for not showing it. Most of all, she hates the world they live in, and she hates the universe for making her a princess but making Cassian a nobody. It would be an impossible love affair.

“She’s the daughter of Orson Krennic,” Jyn pushes, metaphorically thrusting him into Helena’s arms because she finds it the most reasonable option – letting go of Cassian so he can belong to somebody else. Perhaps then she could learn to let go of her feelings as well.

There, have him, she imagines saying to Helena. The princess gives you her blessing. Have him, just don’t let me have him.

“You’re being impolite,” Jyn continues, throwing him a stern look. “Go and dance with her before she takes offense and tells her father that the princess employs a royal bodyguard with no manners. Queen’s orders.”

There’s a laugh in Cassian’s voice, only because he doesn’t quite realize the extent of her turmoil.

“You’re not queen yet,” he reminds her.

“But I am your boss,” she answers, leaving no room for argument. Cassian seems amused, not subdued, but he leaves as requested and asks Helena Krennic for a dance.

xxx

Jyn expected Cassian would dance with Helena once, maybe twice if she’s pushy, and then make his way back to her or blend into the background as he usually does at these gatherings. But he’s danced with her four times before retreating to a secluded corner, next to a painting of Jyn’s grandmother, where they stand even now. Conversing intimately with each other. Intimately, on Helena’s end, at least. Cassian’s expression is smooth, a mask, but Jyn has known him long enough to recognize that he is less than thrilled with the situation.

She’s watched them as she twirled on the dance floor, making polite conversation with men of power and great importance. She’s seen the way Helena pressed herself tightly against Cassian as they danced, and the way she played with her hair and leaned closer to whisper something to him as they talked. Jyn has sent him into the lion’s den, it seems, and Cassian could not find his way out.

So maybe she feels a bit guilty. Or angry. Or regretful, even. Whatever it is, between two dances with insufferable statesmen, Jyn makes her way over to the not so lovely couple and politely requests Cassian’s presence for a dance. Helena can’t say no even if she wants to. (And, no doubt, she wants to.)

Jyn knows it’s not exactly traditional for a woman to ask a man to dance, and she knows it will fuel gossip and scandalize the aristocracy, but she doesn’t care. She owes it Cassian to rescue him from Helena, and –

She changed her mind. She can’t let the other woman have him after all.

She pushed him towards Helena but she did it in anger, in desperation, in hopelessness. Seeing them together cleared up her mind. If she thought it would help her move on, she was sorely mistaken.

Cassian is relieved as he leads her to the dance floor but only Jyn sees the way his expression loosens. He doesn’t question her erratic behavior. Seconds pass in silence, Jyn trying to ignore how warm his hands are on her waist. How nice he smells. How right it feels to be held by him. How, if she squints, he almost looks like he wants her too.

She breaks the quiet when the song is nearing its end, knowing she’ll be soon swept away by someone else.

“Did you enjoy conversing with Lady Helena?”

There’s not much bite in her words anymore – Cassian’s embrace has mellowed her anger – but he still raises his eyebrows at her.

“I’d rather have conversed with two rabid dogs.”

Jyn’s snort is positively unladylike but his lips quirk at the sound. Her mood brightens.

“But you know this,” Cassian adds, dark eyes searching hers.

“Well, I just thought...” She shakes her head. The song comes to a halt but neither of them lets go. “I don’t know what I thought. But she’s very pretty, wouldn’t you say?”

“Jyn –”

Cassian is interrupted before he could say more and Jyn turns with a fake smile towards the newcomer – no other than Lord Krennic himself. Cassian bows, excusing himself, but Jyn feels his eyes lingering on her as he retreats into the shadows.

xxx

She doesn’t see him again until she’s back in her suite. Cassian waits for her in her sitting room, his cravat gone, his vest unbuttoned. Jyn felt dreadfully tired as she made her way up the stairs, her eyelids heavy, her feet aching – but now, seeing Cassian in front of her, she perks up. She could spare him another hour of conversation before retiring for the day. Especially since she’s barely seen him today at all.

“You’re in luck,” Jyn remarks as she plops down on a recliner opposite of him, hiking up her dress to remove her shoes. She massages her sore feet, wondering what it would take to convince Cassian to do it for her. Dancing all night really takes its toll on one’s legs – by the end of the night, she could barely stand.

“Lord Krennic doesn’t want a ‘strange figure like you’ around her only daughter. He’s tried to subtly persuade me to call you off, I think. As if you were my dog or something, can you believe it?” Jyn huffs, even though, yes, she can believe it, and so can Cassian. “In any case, I doubt Helena could pursue a relationship with you now. Even she has to realize that.”

Cassian scowls. He looks good like this, still in his fancy attire but comfortably messy instead of exceptionally neat. Jyn likes the way his shirt crumples up and the way his hair falls into his eyes. The way he leans back against the couch with leisure. He looks like Cassian now, not like one of the detestable dukes she’s had to endure this evening.

“Oh, don’t take offense,” she adds at his frown. “Krennic is a hateful man, he’s always been.”

Her blood had boiled at the way Krennic had spoken of Cassian – but she doesn’t want him to be upset now. Krennic doesn’t matter. Even the royal advisor doesn’t matter. She would always, always pick Cassian. (And if that makes her a terrible future queen… well. An issue for a different day.)

“I don’t care what Orson Krennic, or her daughter thinks of me,” Cassian says, his voice low. “I just don’t understand why we are talking about her again.”

She shrugs. “I thought you might want to know that she won’t be bothering you anymore.”

“I wasn’t very afraid of that.”

“Good then.” She nods, and they fall into a silence less comfortable than it usually is with Cassian. He seems calm as he observes her but Jyn feels her skin itch under his gaze. Does he see that when he looks at her? Can he sense her heart beating faster every time he’s in her vicinity? How much does he, her formidable royal bodyguard, truly notice?

“Jyn,” he drawls her name, a question in his voice. She looks up at him instinctively. “You’ve been acting strange.”

She swallows, trying to evade the question. “Have I?”

He nods. “Positively.”

“Strange how?”

“Strange about this Lady Helena business,” he says. He’s so calm, so in contrast with Jyn’s growing nerves. He’s figured her out. Hasn’t he? Of course he has. Cassian knows her too well. “If I had to take a guess, I’d say you were jealous of her.”

“I wasn’t,” she says – too fast. An amateur move. Is she trying to be caught? Part of her wouldn’t even be surprised. “Why would I be?”

A smile plays on his lips. Small but genuine. A far cry from his other smiles; polite, disarming, reassuring – all fake. She’s one of the few people who get to see his real smiles. She always feels pity for the rest of the world who will never know how beautiful it can truly be.

“I don’t understand why you should be either,” he says, rising from his place. Jyn remains seated, staring up at him as he walks closer. “You know I only have eyes for you.”

It’s not true, she’s never known – but he says it like a confession that she can’t misinterpret. It’s not a platonic statement, it’s not even because of his job as her royal bodyguard. It’s too… intimate for that. He means it the same way she only has eyes for him – exclusively, faithfully, admiringly.

Jyn’s heart stops for what feels like too long before it begins pounding in her chest. The shaky breath she lets out is audible in the quiet room, full of tenderness, longing and hope. She finally stands too, her aching feet forgotten.

“Do I?” she counters quietly, her eyes trained on his.

In a rare moment of vulnerability, Cassian allows his feelings to show on his face, allows her to read him like a book. What stands out most is devotion – so strong and absolute, it nearly knocks her off her feet.

“I hoped you did,” he says, his voice honest and gentle.

“I didn’t,” she answers but her lips curve up.

“My mistake. I shall make it clear from now.”

Cassian reaches up, so slow like he expects her to object, fingering the golden barrette in her hair. He hesitates for a moment before removing it, his thumb catching on her cheek. Her hair cascades down her shoulders, brown locks framing her face, Cassian combing through them with his fingers.

“I like your hair down,” he tells her. Such a simple thing to say, but Jyn can’t hold herself back anymore. She reaches up to kiss him, gasping into his mouth as his hand wraps around her waist. It’s a quick but intense thing, stealing the breath from her lungs, making her tremble in his arms.

She pulls away to look him in the eye, voice low and insistent.

“Tell me again that you want me. And don’t ever let me forget.”

#rebelcaptain #dailyrebelcaptain #therebelcaptainnetwork #my fics #i wrote this literally 3 years ago and randomly finished the ending now #ehh i think you can kinda tell but #maybe someone will like it?#i really love royalty aus but i'm not sure if it's really the most fitting au for them #i struggled with making it work idk how much i succeeded

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phantompearlsalt · 3 years

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Sour Cherry, Chapter 9

I’m sorry I didn’t give y’all a preview this time! As you may know, this week has been exceptionally difficult for many reasons but mostly work being very hectic. Nevertheless, I found some comfort in writing this chapter and hope you enjoy it! Chapter 9 was somewhat challenging but in a cool way: as reference, this can be read as a sort of “prequel” to chapter 3 but can also be read as a standalone. All the build up before that first kiss. CW: Part “Three” is a kidnapping/hostage situation. As always, feel free to check it out on AO3!

One

“Good afternoon, professor. May I speak to your lead archivist?”

Your face is buried in the dusty journal entries of a former governor in the northern Earth Kingdom when the voice brings you to a halt. Using your finger to secure your place in the pages, you lean back up and instantly stare at your colleague Lihua, disoriented.

“Kuvira?” she mouths, her eyes widened with a marked degree of uneasiness. You stay still but hope that the slight twitch of your mouth is sufficient affirmation. You’ve worked with Lihua for a long time now and you even consider her a close friend. Beyond your working relationship, she has become one of the few individuals you’ve established a dynamic of genuine trust with. Given that precedent, naturally she knows about Kuvira. She knows you’ve been attending the dance recitals with increasing fervor and often teases you about this “silly little crush of yours”.

However, she doesn’t know you’ve been sneaking out at night to attend the illicit gatherings where Kuvira has been recruiting Zaofu residents to defy Suyin Beifong’s isolationist stance on the situation in Ba Sing Se. She knows of the meetings (the woman has an exceptional capacity of acquiring even the most covert information) but you know she would decry your attendance. She has dropped the occasional comment expressing her concern with your infatuation with Kuvira but you have tactfully ignored them each time.

You would laugh at the situation at hand if you weren’t so taken aback — the looks of surprise on your faces are attributed to totally different reasons.

Your supervisor mumbles something that can only be a confirmation. The metal door to the office slides open and Kuvira steps in with Baatar at her side. Much to your dismay, it feels as though your stomach disintegrates into dust when her “brother” appears. You force every muscle in your face to remain neutral while your body prickles with annoyance. Across the room, however, Lihua’s expression remains completely astonished.

Your eyes linger on her for about half a second before turning to Kuvira. She is fully draped in the distinctive attire of the Zaofu guard save for the helmet which Baatar carries in his arms. Her face carries that same reticent quality that characterizes her demeanor but you don’t fail to notice something different. Somewhat cavalier. It’s present in the vaguely lifted slope of her mouth. Kuvira scans the room briefly, stopping at Lihua who instantly stands and attempts to offer some sort of salute.

“Good afternoon, Miss Jiang. My sincerest apologies for disrupting what I’m certain is work of great importance. I hope you don’t mind if I speak to your colleague in private? I won’t be long,” Kuvira offers. The heady resonance of her voice is still present but it slips out much smoother and silkier in a way that titillates your senses and makes your mouth go dry.

“Oh um, no, not at all!” Lihua exclaims, collecting her belongings and messily stacking them into one unorganized pile on her desk. “I’ll leave you to your...business.” The discernable quiver in her voice fills you with unbearable secondhand embarrassment so you can’t deter the wave of relief that washes over when your friend has finally scrambled out of the room.

Once Lihua’s footsteps have faded into the distance, Kuvira turns on her heel until she is gazing directly at you. Her vibrant green eyes flicker with a somewhat cryptic air, boring deep into you as though she were looking beyond your physical self. It makes you feel exposed, vulnerable. You start to shift restlessly in your chair.

She briefly turns to the side, running her finger along the edge of Lihua’s wooden desk with a somewhat thoughtful expression. Your eyes follow the movement intently, observing the confident yet careful weight of her touch as it grazes over the sturdy material.

You have never noticed Kuvira’s fingers before. On the multiple occasions you’ve attended her recitals, you had been too enraptured by the nimble movements of her limbs to focus on those smaller details. Besides, from your vantage point you wouldn’t have been able to notice anyway.

Now that she is in such close proximity, you are able to truly and thoroughly admire the smooth contours and lines that make up Kuvira’s hands. There were nights where you had imagined her fingers to be long and lithe, much like the style of her dancing. While that is certainly true to an extent, you are surprised to see they are slightly broader with a hard layer of smooth muscle. You grow entranced by the distinct cords of tendons that course along the back of her hand and disappear into her wrist.

“Do you know why I’m here?” Kuvira inquires. The sound of her voice shakes you out of your daze. You look back up at her and notice her eyes have never left your face. You nervously lick your lower lip and a current of excitement quakes along your spine as you notice her eyes temporarily flicker to your mouth.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” you respond, surprised at the relative steadiness of your voice despite the rapid-fire pounding of your heart. “I anticipated as much,” Kuvira responds with an undertone of amusement to her voice. She brushes her hand against Lihua’s desk once more before taking the final few steps that bring her to your chair. Instinctively, you stand while keeping your finger lodged in the pages of the journal.

“The professor assured me you were under no pressing deadlines but given your line of work, I can only assume you are constantly preoccupied with all sorts of projects,” Kuvira notes. You chuckle once and shrug. “I appreciate the sentiment,” you reply. “It’s not as exhilarating as being the captain of the city guard but we manage.”

Kuvira’s expression does not change but you notice the edges of her face marginally soften. “I must disagree,” she says. Her hand moves towards the journal until your fingers are separated by the width of a nail. Your breath catches in your throat and you look straight into the spot just below Kuvira’s left eye. The thought of looking at her directly is too much when you can nearly feel the warmth emanating from her body even through layers of cloth and metal.

“You are so much more than an archivist. You carry a keen and profound understanding of Earth Kingdom history and politics. Now more than ever, this knowledge is invaluable and that is precisely why I’m here,” she says.

“I...I’m not sure I follow,” you admit. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion and you watch as a shrewd look crosses over Kuvira’s face. “You are aware of our intention to personally oversee the stabilization of the Earth Kingdom capital,” Kuvira reminds you.

You nod in assent and she continues. “Therefore you understand the great need for individuals who will not only assist in pacifying Ba Sing Se but to effectively craft the infrastructure that will sustain its longevity. I said I would keep my visit brief and I will: I come today with a proposal.”

With this, her foot slides over an inch and your faces are separated by about a foot. From this angle, you can appreciate the brilliant green shade of her irises. Is that a hint of gold?

“You are one of Zaofu’s most prominent and well-respected political historians. You intimately know the inner workings of the Earth Kingdom states and your expertise will be invaluable for our stabilization and reunification efforts. It is a major task but I want you to consider joining my forces. My inner circle, to be precise.”

There is a moment where time seemingly hangs in midair as you process the statement. For a split second you nearly come undone in hysterical laughter because this couldn’t possibly be reality. You always knew you would follow Kuvira’s lead because you believed in her vision. You knew she would transform the capital in ways no one had the audacity to imagine. You had resigned yourself to this truth, of leaving behind your studies, your friends, your history in Zaofu for this work.

But you couldn’t have possibly imagined this. Kuvira’s inner circle? To your understanding, that has only consisted of Baatar, Varrick, and Zhu Li Moon. She had alluded to them on occasion during the meetings but you gleaned enough from how often they could be seen in each other’s company. A thousand questions start running through your mind but you can’t seem to grasp at any.

Kuvira continues to watch you and you can’t tell how much time has passed because you got too into your thoughts again and now Baatar is looking at you too oh wait he’s still here you completely forgot about him and they’re waiting for you to respond you need to say something you can’t keep standing here like an idiot.

You shift your gaze and stare straight into Kuvira’s face. The instant your eyes reconnect, the pounding in your ears slowly dissipates into nothingness and every muscle in your body seems to relax. Kuvira’s stoic expression could be perceived as intimidating and even callous to most but there is a glimmer of some promise that grounds you and tells you to fully lean into the opportunity you have been presented with.

You lift your shoulders as you finally respond, “It is no question. I have aspired to serve your cause since the beginning. If you would have me, I would be eternally grateful to lend my skills to this great venture.”

Kuvira’s face gleams with a faint air of satisfaction and she starts to thank you before Baatar bursts in, shaking your hand and going on multiple tangents about the future of this grand plan and how grateful he is to have you on board. Given your personal aversion to the man, you are rather impressed with the cordial demeanor you manage to convey as he speaks.

As you nod along to the mindless stream of words coming from Baatar, you momentarily glance towards Kuvira again. Her expression, initially tinted with annoyance upon Baatar’s interjection, has grown into something else entirely. You aren’t quite sure what to name it but when you see the fierce intensity of her gaze upon your face, you quickly shift back to Baatar and hope no one notices the beads of nervous sweat that emerge along your temples.

Two

“It is not enough to have the former outer ring partially neutralized,” Kuvira states firmly. “If they do not capitulate to our forces soon we will have no way of systemizing these efforts across the city.”

Her voice echoes across the metal tent with great force, compelling the surrounding commanders and sergeants to look down in distress. You, on the other hand, find yourself losing sight of your notes as you grow entranced with Kuvira’s authoritative poise.

Since arriving in Ba Sing Se, the army has not had a single day of rest. Day in and day out, fighters are out subduing bandits and other agitators while other regiments attempt to deliver aid to multiple neighborhoods afflicted by the repercussions of the mass violence. In the midst of it all, Kuvira has remained the grounding force that keeps everyone oriented towards the same goal: the rebirth of Ba Sing Se and eventually a new Earth Empire.

You observe her and admire the potency of her mere presence. It permeates every inch of her body and every breath when she speaks. When her lips part, there is a lingering edge of hardness around the edges that further stresses her dominance. Despite having endured an exceptionally long and painful day thus far, every aspect of her appearance is pristine.

It’s evident that she took some time to rebraid her hair — the locks are cinched tightly together and there isn’t a single strand out of place. Though her eyes are creased with faint lines you can only attribute to exhaustion, her visage remains sharp and unyielding. She raises her shoulders high and keeps her back ramrod straight.

You graze over the smooth curves of her cheekbones, the lock of hair that hangs over her right eye, the gentle arch of her mouth that moves so artfully with every word it forms.

You wonder how her skin might feel under your hand, your fingers folding into the bone just beneath her ear. Sometimes she looks too exquisite, as if your touch might tarnish this immaculate appearance she has so carefully crafted. Yet you fail to release the desire. Instead, you gaze upon her cheek, tightening your hands into fists beneath the table, as the imagined sensation of its warmth against your palm sends heat tingling through your veins.

The sound of your name repeated twice causes your head to snap back up. Kuvira is staring directly at you and it’s clear she just asked something gauging by the questioning looks of your colleagues.

“I’m sorry,” you say hastily, shifting in your seat while your hands flutter over your pages. “Could you repeat that, please?” The question is out of your mouth before you can halt it and you’re briefly terrified about Kuvira’s potential reaction. Clearly she is not one to tolerate such behavior.

But she surprises you when she proceeds to reiterate her previous inquiry with no apparent exasperation. It catches you off guard and the feeling stays with you even after the meeting has ended.

You exit the tent alongside Commander Zhen, a simultaneously good-natured and formidable woman, who regards you curiously. “Everything okay back there? Kind of looks like you spaced out for a minute,” she says concernedly. You chuckle and wave your hand. “I’m good! Seriously. It was just getting a bit stuffy in there I think,” you reassure her.

You’re both about to move from the entryway when a hand momentarily touches your lower back. Out of the corner of your eye, you recognize Kuvira’s beauty mark and the realization startles you. She is walking away, flanked by Baatar and Varrick, and she looks back for an instant only to shoot a smirk that vanishes as quickly as it appears.

The touch lasts half a breath but it leaves an imprint that diffuses a vigorous electricity throughout your muscles. Zhen continues talking, completely oblivious to the effect Kuvira’s gesture has on you and you try to ignore that burning sensation that spreads across your back and fills your thoughts with a flustered haze.

Three

“I appreciate the role you have played these past few months,” Kuvira says, pressing her hand against your shoulder in that customary way that still feels special when she does it to you. You smile and clasp your hands together in an attempt to conceal your excitement.

It’s been three months in Ba Sing Se and everyone throughout the Earth Kingdom and beyond has expressed immense astonishment at the strides Kuvira has made in stabilizing the city. While there were generally competing opinions about Kuvira’s ability to spearhead the endeavor, everybody managed to agree on the fact that no one anticipated such progress in a short amount of time.

You have just finished another one of your brief meals together before heading off into your respective posts. Though these moments are often fleeting, you treasure them as invaluable nonetheless. It’s only been about a month and a half since you started meeting in this way and it has very quickly become a practice you look forward to each week.

“I wouldn’t have a role to play if it weren’t for your leadership,” you counter, arching an eyebrow as Kuvira’s face brightens so softly you can’t imagine anyone else would notice. “You’re already in the highest ring of my army. Flattery won’t get you much higher than that,” she murmurs discreetly.

Kuvira’s palm moves away from your shoulder and slowly drifts down your arm until it curls around your wrist. You both look down to the spot where your skin touches and for a moment it feels like her fingers are hovering towards your hand.

At that moment, Baatar appears and he’s frantically calling Kuvira’s name. You break away instantly and you take a few steps away from her. Though Baatar’s voice doesn’t convey a sense of dire need, there is still a sense of urgency that shatters the moment you’re having trouble believing actually happened.

“I must go. Thank you again...for all your help,” Kuvira says. You nod once and briskly walk away, ignoring the way your stomach twists inside your abdomen when Baatar’s face conjures up in your mind.

Four

You try to find comfort in the fact that you always anticipated something like this happening. It just seemed too inevitable. Though the most vicious gangs had been uprooted from the city, the less reputable ones still lingered and sought ways to establish their dominance over Kuvira’s army. You understand the basis of their actions. You understand how much pain and suffering they have endured over the course of many years but it doesn’t bring the solace you seek when your arms are bound with itchy rope and your eyes are forced shut behind a sheet of dirty cloth.

You had just parted ways with Bolin, promising him you’d meet for dinner later that night, when you felt a strong set of brawny hands clasp your shoulders and suddenly had cloth pulled over your eyes and mouth.

A muted hiss of multiple voices soon surrounded you as you were carried and tossed into what you assumed was a makeshift carriage. You landed hard on the wooden cart and you were certain you’d be covered in mottled bruises if you even made it out of here alive. From there, time flowed in a warped manner, both quickly and slowly.

Now, you’re somewhere damp and quiet. A cave?

You are breathing heavily through your nose, having given up on struggling against the obstructions when it became evident there was no feasible way out of them. You let your body collapse against the ground, recoiling against the moisture, until you hear a hushed voice far away.

“This is our last chance to lure Kuvira in and take back the city,” someone hisses. “We’ve got the brains behind the whole thing which means she’ll be here any —”

The voice is cut off by a powerful crack that’s followed with a roaring explosion of gravel that shakes the ground below. You curl into a ball, feeling spheres of earth bounce off your back and shoulders. “Looks like someone took the bait,” a different voice sneers.

“You have made a grave mistake,” Kuvira bellows. The sound of her voice lights something in your chest and you start thrashing against your restraints, hoping she will recognize the muffled calls for help.

There is a fearsome cry and another shudder as more boulders crash together. You hear Kuvira struggle with the force of fending off your captors and you want nothing more than to free yourself to help her. You push back into a seated position and use your hands to feel for anything that might be able to tear the ropes off but to no avail.

You jerk against the ground and feel someone grab your shoulders, attempting to pull you away. You shriek against the cloth in your mouth and kick frantically. You manage to land a blow against their knee and they curse, digging their fingers harder into your muscle as you howl out in pain.

But then they release you as a familiar grunt nears your face, followed by a flurry of swings that land against their body. Their breath comes out in one fell swoop, there’s a hiss of metal cutting through the air, and finally silence.

Within seconds, there are hands behind your head frantically undoing the blindfold. When the material falls away, you are met with Kuvira’s face contorted in a grimace of distress. The emotion falters vaguely as relief flashes over but she continues her quick work of loosening the rope behind your back. She bends a short knife out of her uniform and smoothly slices it through.

When your arms are free at long last, they fall like weights at your side and you feel yourself about to succumb to the dark shadows creeping over your eyes. Kuvira instinctively grabs you, her left arm cradling your back as her right drifts hesitantly over your chest. From your peripheral vision you catch glimpses of privates wrangling the subdued gang members but your vision grows hazier around the edges.

“You’re okay now. I’m here. You’re going to be okay,” Kuvira whispers. Her voice sounds so peculiar...is that anxiety? Sadness perhaps? You have never heard her voice quiver like this and the realization would be shocking if you weren’t so defeated.

Just as your eyelids flutter closed and you hear voices encroaching on you and Kuvira, you swear you feel the ghost of a touch along your cheek. But you brush it off as a figment of your sleep-muddled brain.

Five

You come to realize you’re in love with Kuvira like a fire. You know from the outset that it will happen because the embers are there. They may be faint and sometimes it feels like they might extinguish altogether but their constant presence is indication enough of a future where the flames are eventually roaring with boundless ferocity.

As time progresses and the flames are stoked, the intensity sharpens and grows. Each faint brushing of your fingers, each passing glance when you think no one is watching, each touch of Kuvira’s palm against your shoulder is another piece of debris tossed into the blaze. The gestures are small but they are real and each time the heat becomes increasingly difficult to control as it surges in your belly.

Everything culminates into a moment that is so totally ordinary. The awareness dawns on you like anything else would. It comes as naturally as the change in seasons, steady and certain.

It transforms into conscious understanding over lunch. Kuvira is telling you about the time she and her brother-figure Huan had hidden away from the rest of Beifongs during a family trip and got into a metal artmaking competition. It’s the first time she’s given you any insight into her childhood and she goes about it very hesitantly. You can tell she is choosing her words carefully, pausing every so often before she continues.

But it’s the way her eyes crease with nostalgic joy when she recalls Huan’s pretentious but genuine critique of her sculpture. It’s the way the stiff edge of her shoulders loosens so faintly it’s almost undetectable as she describes the intensity of her focus while she forged the metal structure. It’s the laughter disguised in a short rush of air when she looks back on this memory shared with her closest sibling.

The muted embers swell into an abundant cluster of sparks that seem to fill the space between you and Kuvira as you experience this new truth. She continues to speak in pauses, totally incognizant of the many emotions swirling through your body. You come to an understanding that you will have to keep this affection to yourself for the time being and perhaps forever.

The reality of that alarms you.

But instead, as you watch Kuvira’s face light up momentarily, you decide you will willingly and earnestly accept whatever comes next. For now, this is okay.

#kuvira #kuvira x reader #kuvira/reader #kuvira headcanons #kuvira legend of korra #avatar lok #x reader #kinda fluff?? mostly YEARNING #anyways I'm SOOO happy I actually managed to post this weekend #I'm gonna go through all your replies/messages/comments/etc now love youuuu <3

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mistwraiths · 3 years

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2 stars

Apologies for the blurry picture but I couldn't seem to find a good one. The Crown of Gilded Bones is the third book in the From Blood and Ash series. I want everyone to know I'll be putting on my clown makeup after I post this review because despite rating the first two books low and having issues with them, I somehow deluded myself into thinking this one might be better! It wasn't and dare I say it I think this was the worst one by far.

I'm genuinely trying to find something good about this book ot at least something I really enjoyed. I do like that the books pick up right where the last book ends up. The first few chapters are pretty exciting. Around page 600, the last few chapters are fast paced and things are happening. Other than that, I can't really think of anything I really liked about the book.

Crown of Gilded Bones majorly suffers, like its predecessors, in the same four ways. Being too long, repetition, world information and building, and nothing important to the central story or plot happening for huge chunks of pages.

I firmly believe that all the books were half their length and the story beats were quicker coming and longer, it would be far more enjoyable. Instead you're forced to slog through inner monologues that don't add anything new, Poppy getting dressed by Casteel, showers, and other mundane parts. I thought knowing that it would be slow would help me enjoy the book but nope. The whole deciding to go to the realm of the gods literally doesn't happen until nearly the end of 500 pages in.

The worst part about the book being far too long and nothing happening is that when something does happen, it gets rehashed several times to the point where I, as a reader, am exhausted about reading about talking about it. I'm a big lover of communication. I love it when characters who are working together or are together tell each other important information and trust each other, but this is different. Once something happens, it gets talked about it detail for a handful of chapters, usually lasting longer than the actual event itself, and then is brought up again to go over, and then again. It's frustrating because I just want to move on but the story is so determined to go over everything again.

That's not the only instances of repetition. I know authors tend to reuse certain words over again. SJM and her "croon" and "toes curl" and "barked/roared". I can forgive stuff. I can look over Jennifer's constant use of dimples. The honeydew part is the most disgusting. I don't care what flavor Poppy's vagina is. There's a difference when it comes to the same thing happening with the near similar responses/situations being used over and over again as an attempt in humor but it falls flat after its been used several times. I'm talking about the "I have a question" "No one is surprised by that" parts and the Poppy being prone to violence makes Casteel horny and Poppy has to be like you're disturbing. If it showed up once or twice after the initial one, I could get over it. But it's reused every so many chapters. If it's an attempt at humor, it is a poor one.

This book is number three in a series and this book is still chock-full of world building and world information. I could possibly forgive it since I suppose at the start Jennifer didn't plan for a big fantasy series, but it's too much. There's so much information being crammed at you and it's in a very obvious way. Poppy asks and Kiernan or Casteel answers. That's pretty much the only way Poppy and the reader learns anything. At this point, I feel like I need a glossary and timeline because there is so much information.

In fact, despite nothing happening, l don't know how it still feels that there is a lot going on. There's the Solis problem. There's the Poppy should be queen problem. There's the people have concerns of Poppy being queen. There's the Unseen problem. Another Dark One problem? Poppy's lineage/past mystery. Something about waking up the Consort? And a little bit more. It's a lot.

In the second book, I liked Poppy (sort of), Casteel, and Kiernan. However, I find myself not liking any of them that much. From personality to saying similar things, they all feel very much the same character. There's not much difference in personalities or dialogue. About the only difference is that Kiernan is cool, Poppy is compassionate when it suits the narrative, and Casteel is protective. Other than that, there's not much of a difference between any of them.

Poppy is pretty much the same as always. Massively overpowered and incredibly special, doesn't know anything about her world that she lives in, and somehow despite being so special and powerful, she's kidnapped and hurt and then levels up again. We are forcefully spoon-fed how Poppy is so strong, so beautiful, so intelligent and clever. I haven't found one instance that I've been wow that was smart. Poppy's powers she inherently knows how to use perfectly the moment she gets them.

There's also almost no female interactions or female friendships with Poppy. Tawny was barely there in the first one but when she surprisingly shows up here, she's immediately rendered injured and unconscious. We're told Vonetta and Poppy are friends, but there's been almost no interactions. Vonetta gave her clothes once and then delivered a message later. Is that a basis for friendship? Vonetta eventually falls in a hole and Poppy saves her. That's about it. Ileana and Eloana are both older motherly types but also significant worrisome individuals for Poppy internally. Again, there's like one conversation each with them individually. Lyra is introduced to us by giving Kiernan a blow job but no interactions. Hisa and Nova are soldiers but no interactions. It's even mentioned that female draken are rare, but I'd argue that female characters are exceptionally rare. It's ridiculous. It's like there isn't any female that's allowed to have a moment of spotlight or competency other than Poppy. Poppy also has a moment of nastiness that's out of character when she threatens a woman who admitted to her that she had no interest in Casteel and Casteel had said the same and he wasn't interested in her, and she threatens to rip her limb from limb. It's so sudden and startlingly and leaves a terrible taste in my mouth.

As for Casteel, I no longer like him nor do I think he's a good guy. I think he's capable of good, being good, doing good but there's too many times where he's been vocal about killing anyone and burning his own kingdom down if Poppy doesn't get her own freedom of choice or what she want and what not. It's played out as the most truest love but to me, that's like a villain kind of love. If someone I loved burned down a city because I didn't get to choose what I wanted, I'd call the police. The craziest thing I had to read is people believing that Casteel would make a good king when he legitimately states that Poppy's needs comes before his own kingdom's needs. And if hers are met, the kingdom's could be met. That's not how any of that works!

He also does something incredibly reckless. I get it, he couldn't live without Poppy so he chooses to Ascend her. I can wrap my head around it. The fact of the matter is that Casteel refuses to take the blame or even entertain the consequences that could have resulted in that and how reckless it was. Poppy even refuses to allow the conversation. They are both like: I am not a vampry. Nothing bad happened so let's move on. It's astounding. Not only that but I felt it extremely odd that Poppy would have been okay with Casteel making her into a vampry, something incredibly dangerous and something she hates and would never want to be. It's just oh okay well luckily I didn't turn into one. And that's... it? It would have made good tension but no. Instead, they're just in love so much we have to listen to Casteel tell her how strong and beautiful she is every twenty pages.

I was excited to learn more about Kiernan but I still couldn't tell you much about him. Best friends with Casteel, a wolven, and he's always like "no one is surprised by Poppy having question". That's about all I know of him. Those are all things I knew about him in the second book.

Some other things I had issues with is that the villains are eager to spill everything about their plans. I feel like I'm watching a cartoon show with their villain monologues going on and on. Everyone except for Poppy is knowledgeable about everything!! People are constantly apologizing for things they have no control of. Characters somehow know exactly what to say to Poppy all the time like mind reading. I'm annoyed that the gods realm and the draken were such short parts.

When the reveals and the action which took 600 pages to get to happened, I really couldn't find myself caring. Reading felt like a chore. I'm not worried about any of the characters. I don't know if I'm interested anymore in reading this series because it feels like work trying to read it. I'm here for enjoyment and I'm not having a good time.

#jennifer l. armentrout #the crown of gilded bones #steph's book review #steph reads #book review

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heleentje · 5 years

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Nachtwacht Sorting

The past... eight months or so, I’ve spent quite a few trips to and fro work amusing myself by figuring out a Sorting for the Nachtwacht characters. Some were easy, some took most of those eight months. And since I’ve missed writing meta, I’m now sharing it with all three of you who care about this show.

A word on the Sorting Hat Chats sorting method

The method I’m using is the Sorting Hat Chats method: based on the Harry Potter houses, but quite a bit more developed.

This method gives people a primary and a secondary house. Your primary is your why, your reasons, what drives you to take certain actions. Your secondary is the how: how you go about reaching your goals, how you react to things.

This might not be the kind of sorting you’re used to from the Harry Potter books. No house is intrinsically good or bad, it’s all about how your traits manifest and how you react to things.

The full explanation is too long for this meta, but you can read it here (and I highly recommend doing so!). All definitions below are taken from that link.

With that said, let’s sort the Nachtwacht characters.

Tl;dr:

Wilko: Slytherin/Gryffindor Vlad: Hufflepuff/Slytherin Keelin: Ravenclaw/Ravenclaw

WILKO

Primary: Slytherin

Secondary: Gryffindor

Slytherin Primaries are fiercely loyal to the people they care for most. Slytherin is the place where “you’ll make your real friends”– they prioritize individual loyalties and find their moral core in protecting and caring for the people they are closest to.

Gryffindor Secondaries charge. They meet the world head-on and challenge it to do its worst. Gryffindor Secondaries are honest, brash, and bold in pursuit of things they care about. Known for their bravery, it is almost a moral matter to stay true to themselves in any situation that they’re in.

Of all the characters, Wilko was by far the easiest to sort. He is stubborn, he is brash, he charges straight at danger with no regard for his own safety. These are all the traits of a textbook Gryffindor secondary.

The Gryffindor primary would be exceptionally ill-suited to him, though. Lofty ideals are wasted on him. Doing the Right Thing is never as important as doing right by the people he cares about. And Wilko cares a whole lot; he is an open and guiltless Slytherin primary. Unlike Vlad, Wilko’s circle of people is limited: Vlad and Keelin and Vega, Sacha and Helena and Cooper, and the rest of the village as a distant third. These are the people he will prioritize.

Nowhere is his Slytherin primary clearer than in The Domovoi (2X4). His worst fear is losing the people he loves. It is a very Slytherin kind of fear and one that is bad enough to break him at the sight of Vlad and Keelin (supposedly) dead.

His primary also makes Wilko the person who cares the least about the Night Watch as a concept. He cares about Vlad and Keelin. If the Night Watch is somehow detrimental to them, all ideals about protecting the earth go straight out of the window; when Vlad is forced to leave the Night Watch, Wilko quits on the spot (The Gate of Souls). No doubt, no hesitation.

At his best, he is caring, willing to go the extra mile for the people he loves and ready to charge in so they don’t have to. At his worst, he is paranoid about any strangers and prone to taking decisions without informing or involving others.

‘Impulsive’ is a word that often gets bandied around with regards to Wilko. It’s how he expresses his (very loud) Secondary. Yet we are faced with an interesting paradox: Wilko may be impulsive, but his control over his werewolf side is exceptional. Whereas newly-turned werewolf Fran practically gets turned inside-out trying to resist the transformation once the moon rises, Wilko barely seems to notice it (2X10 The She-Wolf). Entire episodes take place during a full moon without Wilko ever mentioning it (4X4 The Protector). Only a super moon seems to have any effect on him (1X5 The Werewolf).

Wilko was born a werewolf, yet even among werewolves his control is remarkable (and remarked-upon by Vega in The She-Wolf). This lends an extra dimension to his impulsiveness: Wilko acts impulsive if and only if the situation presents a danger to the people he cares about. Giving in to his werewolf side would make him a danger to the people around him.

Tl;dr: Wilko is a loud and unapologetic Slytherin/Gryffindor: he prioritizes the people he cares about above all else and charges straight at danger in order to keep said danger from reaching them.

VLAD

Primary: Hufflepuff

Secondary: Slytherin

Hufflepuff Primaries value people–all people. They value community, they bond to groups (rather than solely individuals), and they make their decisions off of who is in the most need and who is the most vulnerable and who they can help. They value fairness because every person is a person and feel best when they give everyone that fair chance. Even directly wronged, a Hufflepuff will often give someone a second (or fifth) chance.

Slytherin Secondaries improvise. They are the most adaptive secondary, finding their strength in responding quickly to whatever a situation throws at them. They improvise differently than the Gryffindor Secondary, far more likely to try coming at situations from different angles than to try strong-arming them. They might describe themselves as having different “faces” for different people and different situations, dropping them and being just themselves only when they’re relaxing or feel safe.

Like Wilko, Vlad is motivated by people. Unlike Wilko, his loyalties are broader, extending to the community he lives in and to people in general. Vlad likes people. He’s willing to help those in need even if he doesn’t know them and/or they appear to be a threat initially (3x1 Het Monster). Befitting his Hufflepuff primary, he gives second chances and believes the best of people. This is equally likely to work out well for him as it is to backfire (4x10 Reika).

Less present in the actual show but very clear in the movie is his traditionalist and socially-conforming side. He has followed in his father’s footsteps as a member of the Night Watch, something that was long a goal for him (4X10 Reika). He is duty-bound and puts aside his own personal needs to keep the peace. Vlad, knowing he has to leave the Night Watch, argues within the framework of the rules the Council set up. He states his case, he tries to change their mind — but when it comes down to it, he professes that he has no choice. He has to obey. If the High Council says he needs to quit, he will quit (The Gate of Souls).

His tendency to see the best in people makes him somewhat vulnerable to manipulation, especially from people close to him (4X10 Reika). This is, however, tempered by his Slytherin secondary.

Supplementary materials tend to describe Vlad as the strategist who has a plan ready to go before they go out to face the monsters. While there is truth in this, it’s not the whole truth: Vlad comes up with plans on the fly and changes them rapidly when the situation demands it. He likes to go out with a plan in mind, true, but he feels no need to stick to that plan. He is a quick thinker even when caught unawares (coming up with a plan right after shaking off brainwashing — 2X6 The Master Vampire). He is versatile and ready to make use of unconventional resources, such as bringing Sacha in the loop when Keelin and Wilko are taken out of commission (1X5 The Siren). On top of that, he has a bit of a manipulative streak if it serves his plans well (2X4 The Domovoi, both in his cheating at the start of the episode and his plan to use Wilko to draw in the monster. Jury’s out on how effective either of those instances were, but he did it anyway.)

Tl;dr: Vlad is a Hufflepuff/Slytherin: he attaches value to people and community, and is willing to give even those he doesn’t know the chances he feels they deserve. He is a versatile planner who can easily improvise and switch plans on the fly, using all resources available to him.

KEELIN

Primary: Ravenclaw

Secondary: Ravenclaw

Ravenclaw Primaries have a constructed system that they test their decisions against before they feel comfortable calling something right. This system might be constructed by them, or it might have been taught to them as children, or it might have been discovered by them some point later in life. But it gives them a way to frame the world and a confidence in their ability to interact with it morally.

Ravenclaw Secondaries plan. They collect information, they strategize. They have tools. They run hypotheticals and try to plan ahead for things that might come up. They build things (of varying degrees of practicality and actual usefulness) that they can use later– whether that’s an emergency supply pack, a vast knowledge of Renaissance artistic techniques and supplies, or a series of lists and contingency plans. They feel less at home in improvisation and more comfortable planning ahead and taking the time to be prepared.

Keelin took by far the most time to pin down. I have my suspicions as to why that is, but that would result in an entirely different essay (with a much higher salt content).

Here’s the thing about Keelin: depending on the episode, she switches viewpoints. Whereas Wilko and Vlad are usually very consistent in what drives them, Keelin will switch from a Hufflepuff’s care for people to a Gryffindor’s concern with what is Right seemingly without rhyme or reason. (It’s mainly those two. She doesn’t emulate Slytherin all that often.)

She is no Slytherin, that’s for sure. I debated Hufflepuff but she does not have the same instinctive concern for people that someone like Vlad (or Sacha, another Puff primary) has. She doesn’t share the steadfast conviction of a Gryffindor. In the end, it is the constructed, thought-out morality of a Ravenclaw primary that shines through.

Supplementary materials tend to describe Keelin as the emotional heart of the team. I… disagree. Strenuously. This may have been how her character was initially conceived, but Keelin doesn’t gravitate towards people, she gravitates towards knowledge, planning, preset rules and the things she’s already learned in the past. There are two examples of this I find most emblematic.

The first is The Time Thief (2X12): when finally breaking free of the time loop that takes up most of the first half of the episode, Keelin’s first instinct… is to plan. It’s to find out what’s going on and who’s behind their problems. Vega has to remind her to find Vlad and Wilko and inform them that something’s wrong.

The second occurs in Cerberus, The Gatekeeper (4X5): when Keelin and Wilko get dragged off to be burned at the stake, Wilko begs Keelin to use her magic. Keelin replies as follows (emphasis mine):

“I can’t! I swore to defend people and never hurt them!” (NL: “Ik kan het niet. Ik heb gezworen mensen te beschermen en hen nooit pijn te doen.”)

It’s not because she doesn’t want to hurt her friends (Slytherin). Not because she doesn’t want to hurt anyone (Hufflepuff). Or because hurting people is wrong (Gryffindor). No, she can’t because she swore an oath, a binding contract. She has built her morality through consideration, by weighing what is good and what isn’t and then sticking to that unless more compelling arguments are presented to her. (What does she accuse Vega of when Vlad needs to quit in the movie? Short-sightedness.)

It explains why Keelin seems to switch motivations. I believe she is still very much in the process of constructing her Truth. A number of things she has taken from her upbringing (Black magic is bad, white magic is good — even if the latter is used to hurt people). In daily life she borrows from Vlad’s Hufflepuff most often, but it never comes as naturally to her as it does to him.

Left to her own devices, Keelin falls back on knowledge and things she has previously incorporated as truth, not on people.

Many of those traits bleed into her Ravenclaw secondary. Keelin’s default method of facing a problem is researching it. She collects information. She reads up on potions and spells. She falls back on all the things she’s learned in the past. She wants to have a plan all ready to go before she steps outside and when that plan falls apart, she has a hard time recalibrating (this is what sets apart her Ravenclaw secondary from Vlad’s Slytherin secondary).

Tl;dr: Keelin is a full Ravenclaw: her morality system is constructed and still a work in progress. She tends to draw on Hufflepuff traits when among other people, but left to her own devices she falls back on knowledge.

#nachtwacht #nachtwacht meta #sorting hat chats

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wonderlustlucas · 5 years

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joie de vivre - kim yugyeom

⇢ prompt “What an odd individual. What an odd joy.” ⇢ pairing yugyeom x female reader ⇢ word count 10.7k ⇢ genre fluff & comedy ⇢ warnings swearing & a gross amount of fluff ⇢ summary (i couldn’t come up w a summary but camille did so here u go heheh) In this sweet and relatable story of hopeful romance and inner girl power, you find yourself meeting and getting to know the effervescent boys of GOT7. With exotic food orders and the unmistakable heart-fluttering that defines young love, Joie de Vivre delivers a humorous and cleverly fun take on the awesomeness of your favorite K-pop stars.—beach!au ⇢ a/n wow i can’t believe i’m finally posting this. since july i have deserted & gone back to this damn chapter so many times & i’m just so happy i can finally post it. nevertheless, considering it’s almost christmas & i have zero summer vibes left, this is probably going to be on hold for a looong time since i have so many autumn & winter inspired works i wanna write, so i apologize for the tease. i’d also like to give a big shoutout to my friend camille who edited this for me (along with helping me in various other ways) since i didn’t have time:) & last but not least, i wanted to have this up for yugyeom’s birthday but couldn’t make time, so happy belated birthday to my love, i hope your year is full of all the happiness in the world❥

i ii iii iv v vi vii

moodboard

Contrary to all the whining and complaining that ensues at the start of each grueling summer year, it truly is the beginning of the most thrilling months.

A time when, despite the startlingly tremendous surge of obnoxious, vape-induced teenagers hoarding the boardwalk like flies drawn to an outdoor barbeque, and the influx of ignorant young children flopping through the ocean waves like they are training to become fish, there is always a milieu of genuine elation hanging in the air.

This constant joy—whether it is emanating from the relaxation that oozes from unwinding vacationers flooding the beach and boardwalk, continuous hours wasted away doing nothing and days melting into one another, or simply the enkindling of town—makes up for all the downsides that arise with the start of summer.

Over years of enduring this unnamed cycle of life, you have come to appreciate that there are four types of joy; the expected, the unexpected, the habitual, and the unknown.

The expected—a joy with which you are familiar and the elation it will give you.

The unexpected—aware of the plan, but not expecting the joy that will result from it.

The habitual—occurring so frequently that, while still appealing, is more of a routine rather than a new and exciting experience.

And the unknown—any choice resulting in a different ending, a different joy.

However, despite recognizing these, the unknown sort of joy is the most enigmatic because, named for this specific reason, you never know when it is happening or when it will be.

Even so, one such occurrence is most certainly not a habitual joy. Rather, a royal pain in your ass: when Kim Jinae, in an effort that you could never grasp entirely, decides to wake not only herself but also the two of you up at a time that you should most definitely still be dead asleep nearly every day during your months off.

“You know,” you huff, deeply inhaling the morning ocean hair to fill your lungs. Your body is sagging in sheer exhaustion as you follow her peppy steps—how is she still so fired up?—a few feet behind, sneakers skidding lazily against the worn wood of the boardwalk. "I really miss when your shift was in the morning, and we worked out at night. I hope you know I hate you for guilt-tripping me into this."

Jinae scoffs, coming to a stop and whipping around. “I’m sorry, but who wants to spend the whole damn day down at the beach? And who guilt-tripped who into switching shifts?”

You huff heavily, accepting defeat because she's right, but you would never tell her. You look away to peek at the waves approaching the shore nearly a football field away that reflect apricots and azaleas on the horizon from the remaining sunrise. Your irritated thoughts are replaced with the wonder of today’s plan. “Speaking of, what are we doing today?”

“I don’t know,” she shrugs. You make a mental note to never ask her anything again because—Lord knows—Jinae is zero help. “I assumed we were just doing the usual.”

You sigh, following her silently down the wooden steps from the boardwalk, the ocean now faintly hushed behind you. You wipe away a bead of sweat dripping down from your hairline. “Can you make breakfast before I have to leave?”

Jinae mutters something under her breath, then twists around to face you. “You’re a real brat, you know?”

You beam. “Learned it from the best.”

Your first joy, practically your best friend since you could walk, quite possibly your soulmate—Kim Jinae.

While some days do in fact seem to drag on endlessly, working only four hours a day and four days a week during the summer months is a bargain worth paying for and an opportunity sent by the heavens. It pays what your parents don’t, you tell yourself when service is slow and customers bark at you as if you’re the one doing the cooking. A little extra in the cookie jar, you whisper under your breath after covering eight tables at once, shifting uncomfortably in your uniform as perspiration dribbles down your spine while darting from the sweltering kitchen to each consecutive table.

However, most days seemingly fly by. After all, eight to twelve are prime breakfast hours, and so the quaint diner is not half as cruel as some prior jobs. Not to mention, it is right on the boardwalk, which makes meeting up with Jinae for the rest of the day well spent at the beach even simpler.

Upon setting down the check for your last table and offering a polite farewell, you scan the room curiously until, after a few seconds of concern, your gaze lands on a certain busboy setting down silverware on a recently cleaned booth. "Hey Markipooh," you coo, greeting the unacceptably gorgeous brunette and sliding across the tiled marble floor to stand beside him and to help finish laying out paper placemats.

Mark Tuan—the Devil in Disguise. During your first few days at the new job, you were quietly aware of the only other employee that took advantage of the locker room, initially an exceptionally attractive blonde who had not even graced you with a glance since you started.

That was, until hardly a week later, you found yourself packing up for the day when he entered to do the same.

“Woah, you’re a brunette now.” It slipped out before your brain could truly even process the sentence, gears positively malfunctioning in your head because God, he’s hot but God, you’re an idiot. He blinked, running a hand through his darkened locks and eyeing you curiously for an agonizingly long heartbeat before he straightforwardly said, “It’s pink, actually.”

Oh, so he’s sarcastic. “Hilarious,” you retorted, watching curiously as he made way for his own locker. “I’m glad to see that you do in fact talk, though.”

He laughed lightly, a percussion that made your heart soar. He disregarded a chiming notification from his phone to stare intensely back at your inquiring gaze, saying, “Is that what keeps you up at night? Whether or not your incredibly hot co-worker is mute?”

You wrinkled your nose. “Don’t flatter yourself, you're not that special.”

And so, it came to be that the busboy was not who he seemed to be. Like two puzzle pieces that fit together seamlessly, you clicked with Mark so quickly that even Jinae seemed to impatiently grow jealous. Tirelessly cunning, Mark is a perfect force against your own quick-wittedness. However, he is a precious munchkin of a boy when he wants to be. The fact that he has not only been to but has lived in so many places in the span of twenty-four years, plus his expansive knowledge of more languages than you could ever possibly grasp, has heartily drawn you in until, you have realized your second joy—Mark Tuan.

And here you are, hardly two months later.

Instead of replying verbally, Mark only glares at you coldly before, finally, "You're going to use that against me for the rest of my life, aren't you?"

You grin mischievously at the mathematics major—well, the mathematics major working on his Master’s, as he likes to remind you at every chance that presents itself—and follow him once he makes way to the otherwise empty locker room.

“Probably,” you chuckle while slipping the suffocatingly hot sneakers off your feet. You check the door behind you once more before peeling your top and bra off and replacing them with the navy-blue bathing suit top shoved haphazardly into your locker. You add, “It’s really funny seeing you get annoyed.”

“It’s really funny seeing you get annoyed,” Mark mimics under his breath, voice uncharacteristically high to impersonate your own, as you slip a plain tee-shirt from high school over your head. “I had to become friends with the spawn of Satan, of all people.”

You laugh, shimmying out of your pants and underwear and swiftly pulling up the matching bathing suit bottoms. “You know I love you.”

“Nuh-uh,” Mark grumbles from somewhere behind you. You are too preoccupied with trying to fold your clothes as nicely as possible into your bag. He continues, “Don’t pull that shit on me. Just ‘cos you’re a senior now doesn’t mean I’m gonna deal with your crap.”

“Just because you’re a senior now,” you mimic as he had, only he interrupts your shenanigans with a hard punch to your arm as the two of you head outside. “Anyway,” he sighs, ignoring your scowl and pausing to inhale the briny aroma that never seems to leave the thick ocean air, “I don’t know what your plans are, but some of my friends are working at a joint that opened recently, and I was hoping you’d come?”

“Is this just another sneaky plan to hang out with Jinae?” You chuckle, digging into his side with your elbow. He gasps, “Hey! Maybe I’m just being a nice friend.”

“Oh, yeah, a friend,” you snort. At the genuine pout that clouds his expression, however, you stop and hook your arm through his. “Don’t worry, I promised I would be your wingwoman, didn’t I?”

Mark sighs, shrugging. Then he says, “Why couldn’t I have fallen for you instead?”

With a noise of amusement and disbelief that sounds like something between a snicker and a choke, you rest your head against his bicep momentarily before glancing up at him. “You’re too hot for me.”

“Sure, and pigs fly. I’m actually kind of worried that my friends are going to pounce on you.”

You scoff. “Yeah, okay. Speaking of, who are these friends of yours?”

“Oh!” Mark exclaims, visibly brightening, his white teeth dazzling as he smiles. “So there’s six of ‘em. We all ended up meeting each other at the studio for the first dance class.”

“Pause,” you interject, surprised. “They all go to the same school as us?”

He nods eagerly. “They’re all getting their Master’s, too. Youngjae just graduated with Jinae, and I think BamBam is in your class. Yugyeom is a grade below, I believe.”

Your jaw nearly hits the floor. “BamBam? Like, the—”

“The really cute, bubbly loudmouth?”

“Yeah! You’re friends with BamBam?” You gape. What a small world, you think. When you glance up you happen to notice Jinae waving like a madwoman several feet ahead. You wave back, however, Mark’s snort interrupts you. “What?” He says. “Am I not cool enough to be friends with him?”

You giggle. Though it is tempting to agree, you do not feel like delving into a full roasting session. You instead opt for, “No, shut up and stop being insecure. I was just surprised. I never spoke with him, but we had calculus together.”

Mark only hums in agreement. You assume that by reaching Jinae he has suddenly clammed up. You clear your throat. “Jinae! Mark has plans for us!”

Whether Mark notices it or not, you certainly catch the way Jinae’s face brightens, her enchanting brown eyes scrunching in delight. They’re so into one another, you think, just as she gushes, “No way! Let’s go, then! Where at?”

Your gut truly twists as a result of the saccharine sweetness between the two, an indisputable and perpetual attracting force that all people but the pair can recognize. In an instant, you clear your throat after a disgustingly long amount of time passes of them just staring at each other before you end up with a cavity. “C’mon, then. I’m not going to wait all day.”

Mark jolts, turning to you as the apples of his cheeks bloom pink. He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah—Yeah, let’s go.”

You cannot help the satisfied smirk that comes with him rushing ahead and Jinae positively melting into a pile of mush. You snort, patting her flushed cheeks and following Mark’s speedy path ahead of Jinae’s delayed trailing.

Like most shops and grills lining the boardwalk, JJ’s—as you learned several minutes later once the two bounced back after whatever happened moments ago—is just the same.

With an entirely open entrance, aside from two small table-and-chair sets halfway on the boardwalk and halfway under the ceiling and walls painted butterscotch orange, the grill is squeezed between an unnecessarily expensive jewelry store and a bustling candy shop. The mouthwatering aroma of bulgogi and honey soy filling your senses is a grand contrast to the briny odor from outside. It’s so small you wonder if customers even order to stay, yet it is not cramped in any way—within a space of ten feet, give or take, there is shelving on each set of parallel walls, wide enough to dine at, with two metal chairs tucked in front, a black refrigerator stocked with cold drinks, the counter, which is checkered marble and decorated with a change jar and a vase of snapdragons, is to the right of a sliding barn door painted with doodles of the beach and a lighthouse.

Beyond the counter is a small kitchen with deep fryers to the left and three large aluminum dishes full of fried chicken resting on an island in the middle of the room. The archway that leads to an unknown area occupying the rest of the space is blocked by a plain maroon curtain; with one last scan of the quaint space and another deep inhale, you conclude that, even before tasting anything, this may be your new favorite place to eat.

Your captivated daze is cut short by the voice working behind the counter.

“Mark-hyung!” None other than BamBam calls from his perch on a stool, silver hair pushed up and over his forehead in a messy comma-shaped style. Mark scoffs, “Stop calling me hyung in front of my friends. It makes me feel old.”

“Is that Mark?” Shouts a disembodied voice as BamBam hops from his seat and slides open the drawn-on door. You glance to Jinae, whose baffled expression most certainly mirrors your own, just as said voice bolts over to greet your eldest friend.

“Mark!” Roars an unreasonably attractive brunette, shoving BamBam to the side so roughly that you lean back a bit just to make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.

“Jesus, you guys are so fake. Stop putting on a show. My friends are normal,” huffs Mark, sending the loud newcomer a condescending glare. Just as you begin to think you have gone invisible, he twists to you with a beaming boyish grin that reaches his eyes. “Jackson, BamBam, this is ___,” he says, introducing you and resting his palm on the small of your back. “and Jinae,” he adds.

“Hello!” Shouts another figure who you had not spotted working behind the counter. Like BamBam and this Jackson, he too is classically handsome, and you practically feel your stomach twist into knots at the sudden intensity of it all, not one but four strikingly gorgeous young men—where have they been your whole life?—in one room that is most definitely tinier now, and you cannot breathe, and there’s still three more you have yet to meet?

“Hey.” BamBam’s chirpy voice—having not heard it since sophomore year, you reckon that it matches the sweetness of his facial features—interrupts your short-lived tizzy of emotions. “weren’t you in my calculus class?”

“Yeah, that would be me,” you nod, smiling in response to his own heartwarming grin. “I didn’t know you lived around here.”

“Youngjae?” Jinae’s gasp cuts into BamBam’s potential answer. Evident surprise is laced in her tone as the aforementioned employee rounds the counter. Your gaze flicks back and forth from her and Mark to his three friends, not knowing where to focus. You decide on Jackson—Hell, he’s nice to look at—and find yourself thanking the heavens that fate has made it so Mark entered your life and has ultimately led you to a much too small grill, containing way too many blessed genes all at once.

“You look lost,” says the brunette god himself, catching on to your hazy staring and shuffling to stand beside you, “not that I blame you.” You laugh lightly, dragging your gaze from the distracting way his dark hair falls over his forehead to Jinae and Youngjae bubbling away, something about not having seen one another since graduation, and how they both will be working on their Master’s. Finally you look to Mark, who stands beside BamBam with an expression of delight gracing his features, watching two separate groups of friends intermingle.

“Yeah, this is a bit much,” you admit at last, refocusing on him once the cogs inside your brain begin working again. “I like it, though.”

Jackson grins widely and you positively swoon. He laughs. “Sorry to break it to you, but if you’ve survived three years avoiding Bam, your life is probably going to go downhill from here.”

“Hey!” The plump-lipped model—oh, he could definitely be a model parading down the runway with that face—cuts in, his brows drawn together in mock irritation. You choke, making a noise of surprise when he continues, pulling you into a tight side hug. “This is the beginning of the best chapters of their lives.”

“Keep dreaming, bud,” Mark snorts, slapping his shoulder. You watch from under his chin as BamBam frowns, shooting your friend a glare that could most definitely kill if it weren’t for the dazzling grin that follows.

“Where’s everyone else?” Mark questions as BamBam unwinds his arms from around you—why do they have to be hot and nice?

“Dad and Dad are trying to fix the sink and Yugyeom is...” Jackson says. Rubbing at his bottom lip, he trails off, looking to Youngjae and BamBam. “Where is Yugyeom?”

“I think he went to get chocolate milk,” Youngjae chuckles, dark hair falling over his eye as he does so. “You know how he is.” You look to Jackson, whispering, “Who’s Dad and Dad?”

“Jaebum and Jinyoung. They own this place, plus we’re all pretty certain that they’re an item, so we call them that. They’re in the back,” he explains, nodding to the archway. At this, you hear the muffled noises bustling from behind the curtain that you had not noticed beforehand.

“And Yugyeom?”

“Oh,” Jackson smirks again—trouble—and makes his way back to the counter, “He’s the big ol’ goof. You’ll like him.”

“You guys have bubble tea, right?” Mark changes the subject as Youngjae and BamBam follow Jackson. With them not clustered around you any longer, you take another moment to glance all around, pausing your meandering to glance over the options on the menu. Fried chicken, tacos, rice bowls, kimchi fried riceballs... kimchi cheese fries? You jab your elbow into Jinae's side, nodding to the overhanging menu, "Kimchi cheese fries, dude."

"That's definitely not part of my diet."

"Oh, fuck the diet," you hiss, earning a sharp glare, but you roll your eyes nevertheless.

"No, the bubble tea menu is just there for fun," Jackson snorts, finally responding to Mark’s question and grinning like a madman. Youngjae is howling, smiling so bright you fear his whole jaw may break. "Hilarious," Mark grumbles, turning to you for backup. When he finds you mirroring Jackson's expression, though, he frowns. "This was a mistake."

"Oh, lighten up," you coo, ruffling his parted hair, but he smacks your hand away with a huff. You roll your eyes and look to BamBam, who stands ready for your order. You say, "I'll have a large black milk with tapioca and, uh, hm—a chicken rice bowl."

"Sure," he hums, tapping the screen. "That's gonna be fifteen ninety-one.”

"Make it ten," Jackson butts in, grinning like he just won the lottery. Oh, you're burning up now. You smile to the floor but hide it as you fish for money in your pocket. "Thanks," you manage to croak out, passing the cash to BamBam. After he’s finished, he smacks Jackson on the shoulder, muttering something about his discounts for hot girls putting them out of business, which causes the elder to howl in faux pain while shuffling to the archway to yell back your order. You watch the entire episode with an amused smile that can’t seem to leave your face. You shake your head and at last move to sit on one of the barstools while Jinae orders.

“Should I pay for hers?” Mark whispers, leaning onto the ledge with an expression of apprehension etched onto his face. He chews on his lip. “Yeah, that’s sweet,” you grin, and with an encouraging squish of his cheeks, you push him forward.

You watch, utterly zoned in and praying to every god out there that he does not turn into an awkward pile of mush. The grin can’t seem to leave your face when he steps up beside her and—

“Oh my God, he’s become a man,” says a voice from beside you suddenly. You nearly jump out of your skin, jerking in your seat. “Holy fucking shit!” You wheeze, clapping a hand over your heart but, alas, this does not comfort the additional torment your essential organ faces once you look up to said tormentor.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the boy-man-squish giggles—he giggles—with pinkpinkpink, heart-shaped lips pulling back to reveal quite possibly the cutest and most endearing smile you have ever seen.

And, just like that, you sit there, dumbfounded, positively enamored by this—this attacker, with every last working brain cell stuttering to a halt to admire him. “Oh,” you laugh—or was that another wheeze?—with a cough, then you clear your throat, squinting in some sort of weak attempt to make eye contact instead of gawking at his windblown, light golden brown hair that, conveniently, falls right into his eyes. However, as soon as you focus on the darkness of his irises, you realize you are totally, unquestionably screwed, lost in the depths of his nearly black eyes—obsidian is a better word—and even though there is nothing astoundingly exceptional or different about him, you simply cannot help feeling absolutely overwhelmed within a matter of seconds.

“That’s okay,” you finally force out. “I just didn’t see you come in.”

He smiles softer this time, and while your heart still jumps at the expression, you force yourself to look back to Mark and Jinae before a heart attack ensues. You come to find you missed whatever proceeded Mark’s initiative. However, judging by the threatening smiles and rosy cheeks, you assume it had to have gone well, and so your interest that's burning like a wildfire to peek at the boy that remains beside you proves to be preeminent.

Upon twisting back around, you take notice to the plastic twenty-two-ounce convenience store cup, full of what looks like chocolate milk, gripped lazily in his hand, an outrageous juxtaposition to his height and strong features. Condensation drips from the bottom and onto the tiled floor. You ask, hardly without thinking, “Are you Yugyeom?”

“That’s me,” Yugyeom hums, eyes scrunching into precious crescents as he smiles. “How’d you know?”

“They were talking about where you were earlier,” you say, waving your hand to the others. “Mentioned chocolate milk, so I assumed that was you.”

“Of course. That seems to be my only known trait,” snorts Yugyeom, sending his friends a condescending glare despite them being deep in their own conversations. You snort out a laugh, covering your mouth with your hand when his eyes fly back to soak in your reaction. You compose yourself, then say, “That’s not true. Jackson called you a goof.”

“Wow,” he sighs, frowning, and you watch with a grin etched onto your face as he slaps a hand over his chest. “What did Jinyoung say? Do I have to kill him?”

Snorting quieter this time, you shake your head. “I haven’t met him, so he didn’t say anything. Homicide is not necessary today, bud.”

Yugyeom beams—fuck, it is so unfair to be this good-looking—lifting his cup up to take a long sip. “Hold up,” he pauses, chewing on the straw, “are you ___?” Upon hearing your name fall from his lips, you sit up straighter in your seat as if being on a name-basis suddenly changes things. “Yeah. How’d you know?”

“Mark has a habit of talking about you and Jinae when he’s with us, seeing that you’re his only other friends,” Yugyeom says proudly, diverting his gaze to the aforementioned boy who is settled beside Jinae at the other seats. He takes another sip of his drink. “Well, it’s mostly about your friend, but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget how many days he went on about there being a girl in the locker room.”

Your mouth falls open. “No way!”

“Totally serious. He was annoyed about not having the room for himself for a while, but he always whined about you being pretty, and then one day he started complaining about how sarcastic you are and how he can never win with you, so I guess his little crush ended. And then he met Jinae,” Yugyeom explains, grinning mischievously. “And we all know how it is now.”

“I’m—wow,” you whisper, flabbergasted, mostly from the clarification but also, deep down, hearing the unfairly tall boy use the adjective pretty while talking about you. “I’m glad they met, then. He’s too stinky and old for me.”

“Wait, aren’t—”

BamBam’s sudden calling of your name interrupts whatever the blonde was about to ask. You nearly stumble out of the barstool but relax upon realizing he has only placed your order on the counter, ready for you to grab. “I got it,” pipes Yugyeom from beside you and, heart hammering in your chest, you watch with starry eyes as he places his cup beside you before skipping over and taking your tea and a disposable paper bowl from the counter.

“Thanks,” you smile appreciatively as he places the order in front of you. You twist to sit correctly in your seat. Instead of staring at the wall, you watch curiously as the iced chocolate boy shimmies onto the chair next to you. You clear your throat. “You were saying?”

“Hm?—Oh! Yeah, aren’t you in the class above mine?”

You nod, tearing open the chopstick packet and diving right into the dangmyeon and honey soy chicken. “That’s what Mark told me.” You pause, stuffing food into your mouth. “Although, if I were to judge you by your height,” you chew, letting out a mesmerized sigh at the unacceptably delicious flavors, “I would have thought you were older.”

Yugyeom, smiling charmingly once more, breaks into laughter. “Would you want to try that again without your mouth full?”

You gape, kicking his shin before silently realizing you’re not close enough with him to do that. Grumbling, you say, “What else am I supposed to do when you’re trying to talk to me when I’m eating?”

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll leave you be,” he chuckles to himself, taking a slow sip of his milk, and you look back to your meal, digging down to the rice and prodding tacky clumps into your mouth. Your neck suddenly begins to prickle at the notion that you’re being watched. With another mouthful, you slurp up a dangling noodle before building up the courage to look at the blonde only to find him already watching you intently, a lazy smile softening his features.

“You know,” you say as he raises a brow. You take a sip of your tea for effect, nearly choking on an unexpected tapioca ball. You continue, “A stranger watching you eat is rather uncomfortable, especially when it comes to noodles.”

“What else is there to do? Talk to Mark and his girlfriend?” Yugyeom retorts playfully, nodding to the pair, and you smack yourself when the idea of pushing away a stray strand of hair that falls into his left eye arises. Instead, you follow his gaze to Jinae and Mark cheerfully talking away.

“Point taken. Don’t you work here, or something?”

“I get out at one,” he confirms, chuckling when you oh-so-gracefully miss your mouth. Rice lands on your bare thigh. His gaze trails the grains and, upon realizing your lack of clothing, his cheeks flush cherry red, and you fight back a laugh. Deciding to save him from his internal, middle school boy panic, you continue, checking the time on your phone, “It’s one now. Yet when I got here, you weren’t working.”

“I had to get my iced choco.”

“But… don’t you need to work?”

“Eh,” he twists to look at the three behind the counter. “They don’t need me.”

“I don’t think that’s how jobs work, but okay,” you laugh, picking up the dumpling—Jesus, why is everything so good?—and, panicking over the fact that the conversation is ending, you opt to continue, devouring your meal in silence.

Barely two swallows later, a hand slaps against your shoulder and you drop yet another mound of rice as you lurch in surprise.

“Do you like swimming? In the ocean?”

Jackson, looking way more handsome than your average employee should—you’d love to meet the parents of everyone in this room—grins mischievously down at you, dropping his hand.

“Of course. My parents practically threw me into the sea the day I was born,” you joke, slapping yourself on the back when he rears his head to let out a roaring, high-pitched laugh. “Why?”

“On days when we get out at the same time, we always head down and stay until, like, seven. Do you guys want to come with us?”

“Oh.” Nearly choking on the lack of a response, you twist to look at Yugyeom, who watches with the same gentle smile that has not left his face. You cough, turning back around. “Definitely! That’ll be fun. Who is us, though?”

“Me, Jackson, Youngjae, and Bam,” Yugyeom interjects. Once more you turn and offer him a thankful smile before glancing back to Jackson, then past him to Mark and Jinae still chattering away over their meals like two doves sharing a bird bath. You sigh, half out of the dejection that comes with achieving the role of a third wheel but partially over the greedy realization that this means you may have these new friends to yourself. You clear your throat, glancing back between Yugyeom and Jackson before you say, “Are you the type of guys who like to yell ‘shark’ when we’re swimming?”

Jackson smirks. “Shit, are you not into that?”

Within the span of the time it takes for the foursome to change behind a dumpster outside of the grill and join you on your walk down through the sand, you have come to learn four things.

One—these five boys together are louder than any colony of seagulls fighting over a half-bite of a sandwich (if you have ever been the victim of that scene).

Two—Youngjae and Mark are co-parents to a fur child.

“You’re a dad?” You initially hissed, nearly dropping all the belongings you carried. “Coco is a dog,” Mark sighed, clearly exasperated by your conclusion-jumping. You rolled your eyes. “You never told me you had a dog.”

Three—Mark’s friends have a very in-depth plan to give him and Jinae their final push.

“You have to stay as distant from them as possible. We’re going to be your new best friends,” Jackson whispered once you fell in step beside him. “How do you plan on getting them together?” You whispered back, laughter lacing your tone at the idea of scheming on their future relationship. Jackson paused, blinking. He looked to Yugyeom on your side, who casually shrugged.

“We’ll have to leave during random times so they’re left alone together,” BamBam piped up from beside Jackson, nodding to the aforementioned pair walking ahead.

And four—when you are not used to it, insecurity has the claws of a vulture and the weight of an anchor.

And yet, insecurity may be the wrong word. Whatever it is, it sparks a small fire in your tummy, and butterflies are gradually coming to life at your obvious delay, barely there until you proceed to remove your tee. At this, you are startlingly aware of the quick glances thrown your way, and this is when it grows. Or, were there even glances? Had you imagined it? Yeah, that’s what happened, you tell yourself, laying your blanket onto the lumpy sand with unexpected accuracy that only comes with years of doing so. No, they’re staring, definitely staring. An internal panic—an unknown panic—now a forest fire, heart thumping against a glass ribcage. No, nobody is even looking.

You cast an inspecting glance over your newfound group, all mindlessly busy with their own belongings, until—there it is!—there's a fleeting peek from choco boy. You gulp, catching the way the right side of his mouth quirks up. Once you catch his agonizingly long stare, you look away, focusing on flattening the edges of the blanket until you realize, fuck, your boobs, practically spilling out like the Niagara Falls broadcasted on television for all to see with this position. Scrambling to stand upright—fuck the blanket—you skip on the sunscreen orgy and hurry towards the white blanket of froth that forms as the tide gradually approaches the shore, sighing in relief as your toes come into contact with the nippiness of the waves.

So. That’s what it was. Who it was. Shivering against the waves, you trudge on, dodging a wailing child who stomps madly toward his mother. You sigh blissfully as the burning temperature of your skin—whether it be from your fizzing nerves or from the sun beating down relentlessly—drastically cools once you duck through a wave.

In the past you were able to brush off passing thoughts of those around you, those watching you and possibly judging you, by starting up a conversation with Jinae, and even when Mark began joining you, he was so enamored by her that you knew you had nothing to worry about.

However, this is the first time in years you are at the beach with a group predominantly male.

Pushing back your now saturated hair and kicking your legs to stay afloat, you spin to look for your crowd, squinting at the shore that fades into liquid gold, vivid in the brilliant light, and search through the masses of gaudily colored umbrellas and chairs until you catch sight of your blanket and what looks like Mark practicing a backflip in the sand. Mark, Jinae, Youngjae, BamBam… fuck. Recounting, with your fingers this time, and still coming up with a measly four, you shudder into a silent panic all over again, rifling through the clustered vacationers for two certain boys. However, once you do in fact locate the duo resurfacing after diving with aesthetic synchronization under a wave, it seems to only benefit in their search for you, seeing as the older of the two beams like a star and quickens his pace.

“Thought we lost you there for a second,” Jackson greets. At this, you conclude that you may never get over his smile, and you force yourself to turn to the horizon in order to gather your thoughts. “Well,” you grin, looking between him and Yugyeom, both tanned honey gold from daily exposure to the sun, “You found me.”

“What happened back there? You looked like you saw a ghost,” Yugyeom continues, staring up at him. You wonder whether or not the glint in his eyes is innocent but brush it off as simple, playful banter. “I don’t know,” you lie, shrugging. “I think I just got really hot.”

Jackson hums, oblivious to the unexpected tension that has you longing to swim off to another nation and never return. “Do you think it’ll work?”

Yugyeom shrugs, finally breaking eye contact in order to look to his hyung. “Yeah, I mean, at least in the beginning. Don’tcha think they’ll catch on eventually, though?”

In the midst of focusing on jumping up with the current of the waves, you process their words, realizing you really do not even know what they are talking about. “Does this have to do with Mark and Jinae?”

“Mhm,” Jackson starts. “While we’re here, Bam and Youngjae are conveniently going to take a nap.”

“Oh, smart. You guys are really serious about setting them up, aren’t you?”

“At this rate, they aren’t going to do it themselves,” Jackson chuckles, running a hand through his darkened locks, pushing wet strands back. Your gaze absently follows the action. Barely a heartbeat later, salt water is splashed at your face, stinging at your eyes, but you are quick to squeeze them closed. Upon opening them again, you come to find Jackson, eyes wide and honest, and Yugyeom, biting down on rosy lips to hide his laughter.

“Did you just—” splash.

He does it again!

“Oh, you ass!” You yelp, lunging forward and reaching out for the younger boy’s shoulders. No matter how new of a friend he is, this is war. You fight against the strong tug of the ocean at your body. Cackling like a hyena, Yugyeom dodges your weak attempt of a punch, smacking away your insistent hands and shit, you can’t touch the floor anymore. In a split-second decision, you dive beneath the surface and peel open your eyes as much as you can despite the salty sting prompting you to close them. You swim toward your assailant, wrapping your hands around his leg, just above the knee. When you dig your nails lightly into his skin, you nearly choke on a mouthful of water at just how muscular his thigh is. When he starts to squirm away from your grasp, all mouthwatering daydreams about the thighs your new friend possess disappear, and you regain your pose, releasing his leg for hardly a second, just long enough to dig your fingers instead into his side and resurface.

“Stop!” He whines, thrashing away from your tickling. He splashes more water your way as a result. Once he finally trips over his own feet and his head submerges under an approaching wave you finally relent, backstroking away from him to an amused Jackson. “What a thot,” you grumble, rubbing the sting away from your eyes and warily watching the child as he recovers from your attack. “I met you guys hardly an hour ago and suddenly we’re close enough to beat one another up.”

Jackson shrugs, flicking your shoulder, and you shoot him a warning glare.

“I told you we’re going to have to be your new best friends,” he says.

“You! I could’ve died!” Shouts a bewildered Yugyeom as he swims over, looking way too gorgeous for someone who just got knocked by a wave. Despite his playful exaggeration, you smack away the finger he waggles in your face with an eye roll. “You splashed water in my face! Twice!”

“You were staring!”

“Staring? Staring at what?” You snort, unable to even recall what was happening before he suddenly splashed you. “I—hm. Nothing,” he sighs, the apples of his cheeks blooming pink. He looks down and focuses on the ripples of the water. “Never mind.”

“Ooh. ‘Kay,” you laugh awkwardly, looking to Jackson, who mirrors your puzzled expression. Finally letting silence settle in comfortably, you look to the shore in search of Jinae’s obnoxious rainbow umbrella to find all four lying on their towels.

“Anyway, I’m going to see how things are going. Try not to kill each other,” Jackson smirks—how dare he—before moving with the current to shallower waters.

Now what?

Praying to every god out there that conversation will come as fluidly as it did back at JJ’s, you look to Yugyeom, only to witness him with his leg held to his chest as he pulls a shell from between his toes. You wrinkle your nose, laughing, “Did you just pick that up with your foot?”

“It bit me!” He whines, frowning.

“The shell bit you?”

“No,” he caves, grinning stunningly. “It’s a hermit crab.” As he speaks, he moves closer to you, rolling the small cerith shell onto his palm before holding it out to you. “Aw,” you pout, pushing your wet hair away from your face to lean closer as the crab hesitantly taps Yugyeom’s hand with its claws. “They’re so cute.”

He snorts. “Not when they bite you.”

“That’s called karma,” you smirk, cupping your hands for him to drop the crab into. “People who splash their new friends and practically blind them get bitten by crabbies.”

“You’re very dramatic,” Yugyeom says, watching you the same way you adoringly watch the hermit crab. Your attention, however, is not so fixated on the small crustacean in your hand as it is on the slow rise and fall of Yugyeom’s chest—right there in front of you. Tears of water race down the toned muscles of his stomach each time the water level climbs and retreats. You’re just in the middle of ogling when you take notice to the sharp, black edges of tattoos on his sides, more so to the intricate pattern you can only partially see on his right. No, you scold yourself. What are you doing? You just met him today. Shaking your head to rid your mouthwatering daydreaming, you say, “So are you, Mr. I-splashed-you-for-staring. By the way, let me see your tattoo.”

“You’re not going to have it pinch me, right?” He chuckles cautiously, casting a wary glance to said it, and you laugh, gently letting the waves take the hermit crab out of your hands with a shake of your head. “I said I wanted to see it, not pinch it.”

Rolling his eyes, Yugyeom finally lifts his toned arm up to offer a better view to the precise design of a flower, a rose, on his side. You ignore his quiet intake of breath when your fingers subconsciously trace at the detailed ink. “It’s so pretty. I’d kill to do something like this.”

Yugyeom shrugs. “You should, then.”

You scoff, finally stepping back. “I wish, but then I’d have to deal with my parents. They already threw a tantrum when I got my first.”

“Can I see?”

“Oh,” you chuckle, heat rising to your cheeks—God, how old are you?—at the realization that answering his question would take a bit more effort considering you’re shoulder-deep in the ocean, “I’ll have to show you when we get out.”

“Sure,” he hums with a pretty smile, looking around quietly as you drop beneath the surface to once again cool the heat scorching your body. Then, when you come up, he says, “Do you want to get out now?”

“Yeah. We should tell Jackson we smacked each other or something,” you grin, beginning to head back to shore with him trailing a few steps behind. Once you get to the point where the waves start to break, you cross your arms over your chest to keep the girls in place, angling your body to avoid being knocked to the ground for an inevitably sandy, humiliating death.

“Oh, yeah, we’ll think of something,” says Yugyeom.

The sarcasm lacing his tone has not even registered in your brain when his hands are on your waist, shoving you forward until you helplessly trip over the force of the current, flailing ungracefully into the sand with a cry that only gets smothered with the wave passing over your head. That son of a bitch.

When you surface and rub the stinging water from your eyes, you watch unamused as he reels back in laughter, louder than any of the children around you, and with him not paying attention you grab at his ankles, tripping him into his own sandy misery and ignoring all the judgmental stares from bothered teenagers sent your way. Although, you realize much too late that you should have taken him falling on you into consideration. This still does not prepare you for an elbow in the gut and his unfairly giant build squashing you further into the sand. To make it worse, as a wave recedes and another surges forward, all you can focus on is the gritty sand smearing your skin as you tussle in battle with Yugyeom.

“You are,” you spit, finally shoving him off once you’ve gained some safety from the waves, “a royal pain in the ass.”

Unable to contain his laughter, Yugyeom stays on the ground. You wrinkle your nose grossly at the sand not only coating your hair but also his lightened locks. At his lack of a reply, you scoop up a handful of wet sand and slap it onto his stomach. “Hey! That wasn’t cool,” he whines, reclining up on his elbows and glaring at the glop of sand spreading over his abdomen, torso heaving with laughter, “c’mon, that was pretty funny.”

Your irritated façade finally breaks once he flashes an unfairly adorable, boyish grin, and you finally join in with his laughing, scooping up more soppy sand and dribbling it on his toned arm. It does not hit you until he only frowns playfully instead of stopping you how unexpectantly intimate yet natural it is for someone you just met. “I like the tattoo,” Yugyeom suddenly states, poking at the lavender and coral shaded scallop shell right above the waist of your bottoms. You jolt in surprise, cheeks burning at his friendly gesture that only further supports your earlier thoughts.

“Thanks,” you smile. With the last bit of sand glopping onto his stomach, you cringe at your own state of filthiness. “c’mon, we should wash this off. And no more tackling.”

With another quiet laugh, Yugyeom stands to his feet, watching sickeningly as wet sand slides off his body and back into the shallow water with an unpleasant plop! Then, much to your surprise, he reaches his arm down to help you up. “I think your knee went up my ass,” he giggles once you’re up, walking ahead and using the waves to wash off. you grimace at the thought while walking out further to rinse out your hair. “Yeah, and you nearly pulled my top off,” you scoff, cupping water into your hands and scrubbing the sand off your skin. “You’re like a little kid.”

“And you complain too much,” he fires back once you start heading back. This time you keep a watchful eye on him in case he tries to pull another stunt. You gasp playfully, slapping a hand over your heart. “Ouch.”

“Don’t worry,” Yugyeom says. You look over to catch his playful expression. His lips are curled up into a sly smile and his dark eyes twinkle mischievously. “it’s hot.”

You blink, suddenly overwhelmed. Walking alongside the unfairly tall boy you look back to your feet, wary of holes dug and left exposed as a tripping hazard by reckless children. You scoff. “Since when is being a bitch hot?”

“Technically I paused in between those phrases, so I could’ve been talking about the temperature,” Yugyeom says, smirking like the little jerk he is as you lean down to pick up your towel. “What are the first three letters of assuming?”

Scowling, you contemplate kicking up a shower of dry sand if Jackson was not snoozing peacefully next to your own layout. Instead, you punch his arm and watch in satisfaction as he grimaces. “Ha, ha. Very funny. Please leave me alone now.”

“I need help putting on suntan lotion, though,” he pouts just as you plop down onto your blanket, towel wrapped snugly around your shoulders.

“Jesus Christ, how old are you?” You groan, falling back and glaring upside down at him, biting back your laughter when he lets out a loud sigh. “Please? Just my back.”

“Oh my God. Fine, you big baby. I’m not moving, though, so pop a squat.” Finally giving in, you lean up with a defeated sigh, scooting over to leave enough room for his tall ass. You watch disgruntledly as he drops beside you, crossing his legs with his back faced to you. Once he passes back the bottle, you give it a good shake before twisting the cap off. Spraying routinely over is skin, you mutter an apology when he breaks out in goosebumps. “Here,” you mumble, tossing the bottle into his lap before rubbing the greasy spray further over his back and shoulders. You cringe for a millisecond before quickly swiping over the lowest area at the waistband of his bottoms and slapping his shoulder. “Begone, thot.”

When he spirals to face you, you are momentarily whiplashed, and you almost—almost—tell him that he’s so pretty with the mole under his eye and indisputably gorgeous face. However, you quickly remind yourself, oh yeah, you have only known him for a few hours. Fortunately, he replies to your banter, concluding your drool-worthy trance.

“I’m not moving. Just because you called me that.”

You watch, dumbfounded, as he casually flops over and onto his stomach, burying his face between crossed arms without another word. “You—You’re despicable. You have a whole towel to yourself. Leave me be,” you protest, poking his ribs with your foot, still wrapped cozily in your towel.

At your insistent jabbing, he finally pulls an arm away and seizes your ankle, holding it still with an amused smile while he stares up at you. He looks way too hot for someone so incredibly, undeniably annoying. “Yugyeom,” you whine defeatedly, poking his thigh with your other foot. You watch the confidence only grow over his features. You say, “Stop being an ass.”

“Jesus Christ, I thought we were here to set up Mark and Jinae, not you two children,” BamBam suddenly grumbles from beside Jackson, leaning up on his elbows and scowling in your direction. “We’re the same age as you,” Yugyeom retorts, looking to him with a glare. You wait for him to deny BamBam’s accusation, heart thumping loudly in your chest, and yet he doesn’t. “Shut up or I’ll kill you,” BamBam grumbles, realizing it’s not worth the fight. He returns to his interrupted napping.

Laughing, you accept defeat as well and remove yourself from your towel’s shielding concealment, crumpling it into a ball as a pillow and placing it down a few inches from Yugyeom’s head. You lay on your stomach beside him. “Your friends threaten to kill you a lot.”

“It’s because I’m the baby,” he grumbles, resting his head on his wrists to look at you. You do the same.

He continues. “It’s whatever, though. They’re just jealous I’m taller than them.”

“No, you’re just annoying,” faintly, you hear BamBam mumble. Laughing, you cover your mouth with your hand. “I agree with him,” you whisper, the smirk growing harder to hide when Yugyeom frowns in playful hurt. “Shut up,” he grumbles, kicking your ankle with his own. “Don’t you need sun lotion?”

“I put some on before work.”

“But you went in the water,” he pouts, “and that was hours ago.”

“It’s fine,” you smile, heart warm at his concern. “It’s almost four, anyway. The sun isn’t as strong.”

“Oh,” Yugyeom seems to accept this, eyes traveling to your shoulder and lingering there long enough until you feel the heat spread from your head to your toes. Then he looks back to your face, expression soft. “You don’t actually mind if I nap here, right?”

Smiling against the dampness of your crumpled towel, you quietly say, “I don’t mind. As long as you don’t kick me, or something.”

“I can’t make that promise,” he smiles once more before finally resting his forehead on his forearms. You study what you can see of his relaxed silhouette for a moment before messily tying up your damp hair and comfortably burying your face into the towel with a peaceful sigh. What an odd individual.

What an odd joy.

Two hours and a series of blurred insignificant events later, you find yourself lying on your back. A hand jerks your shoulder and brings you back to blurred consciousness. “What?” You grumble, your mind hazy as a result of a long, hot nap that has your brain momentarily reeling at where you are. “It’s a little after six. I’m leaving. Are you good?”

Squeezing your eyes as a sort of fine tuning to get your mind back into business, you finally blink up to Jinae. Holding beach items in her arms, she tells you she's heading back up to your apartment. “Um,” you pause, straining to sit up and scan to see if the others are up. “I’m good. I’ll see you tonight.”

Once she’s off, a tired sigh escapes from your lips as you flip back onto your stomach. You easily drift off for another fifteen minutes or so before waking once more, this time to a screaming baby. Rubbing sandy knuckles over your eyes, you look to your side. Yugyeom, still fast asleep, remains spread out across your blanket, right hand positioned into a small hole in the sand an arm’s length away. You wonder if he dug it in his sleep.

“He sleeps like a dead man. Once we left without him and he came to me and Mark’s apartment at, like, two in the morning ready to kill us,” a voice grumbles ahead of you. Jackson is lying just as you are with a messy case of beachhead, strands dried and awkwardly sticking up in all directions. You laugh, momentarily looking away from the brunette to the dimming sun, which is much lower in the sky at this point. You finally respond, “I can tell. Every time I woke up, he was still knocked. Also, I didn’t know you were Mark’s roommate.”

Wrinkling his nose, Jackson glances over his shoulder to the other three boys still passed out on the sand. “Is that good or bad?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I just hear a lot about you. And now I have a face to match all the stories with.”

“Gosh, what does he say?”

You contemplate it for a moment. It's not like Mark has ever really talked shit. You decide on messing with him. “He says when you sleep, you talk about feet.”

Mouth hanging open, Jackson absorbs your bullshit before his face drains of color, spewing nonsense like a child caught in a lie. “What? Oh my God, you’re joking. You’re joking! Shit, you probably think I have a thing for feet or something. I swear I don’t, oh my—oh my God, bro. I definitely don’t talk about feet.” In an attempt to hold back your laughter resulting from his panic, you force your gaze elsewhere. You focus on Youngjae’s hair billowing from the light breeze until Jackson has exhausted himself breathless.

“I was joking,” you finally cave, but only when you glimpse the deep puppy frown he holds. “All he’s ever said it that you’re too loud in the morning.”

It takes Jackson a few seconds to process your trickery. He blinks. “Wow,” he heaves, sitting up onto his haunches. “I see how it is. You have betrayed me. I guess we’re enemies now.”

“Ha!” BamBam roars somewhere behind. “You really had him!”

“That was pretty good,” pipes Youngjae, sitting up and lifting his sunglasses to push back his hair. He pokes Mark beside him. “Yo, your side girl just flamed Jackson.”

“Side girl?” You snort just as Jackson flails to stand up, kicking sand in the process.

“No, she didn’t!” Jackson shouts defiantly, hands on his hips.

“What’d she say?” Mark grumbles tiredly, blinking to keep his eyes open. He reclines on his elbows.

While Youngjae fills him in, you look to Jackson, who shoots daggers your way but fails to hide his own humored grin. You stifle a laugh as Yugyeom stirs beside you. He mumbles, “What’s all the commotion for?”

“She,” Jackson says, looking at Yugyeom and pointing a finger at you, “is a bitch.” He smirks, flicking your forehead on his way back to his towel. You stick out your tongue. In response he adds, “But a smart bitch.”

“I thought we already established that.” Yugyeom sighs. You shoot him a glare, and he returns the gesture with a sleepy smile that extinguishes your urge to smack him.

“Hey,” you wrinkle your nose. “Since when is it ‘national attack ___ day?’ For a group of guys, you sure are babies.”

Jackson gasps. “Shit, she’s Jinyoung in female form.” He shakes BamBam by the shoulders. “We can’t let them meet. They’ll be too powerful.”

“You’re so whiny,” Yugyeom says sharply. All eyes fly to him. He shrugs. “They’ll be too powerful.”

“Oh shit,” BamBam snorts, moments before Jackson shoots up and charges for the younger boy. Yugyeom flounders away in time to run away. You dodge the sheet of sand sent your way with a prepared duck and watch the two sprint up the beach. “Tragic,” Mark comments as Yugyeom stumbles face-first into the sand and Jackson hops on top of him to choke him in a headlock.

“Well, that’s my queue to go,” you quip, patting around for your crumpled tee shirt, finding it, and pulling it over your head. “This was fun. We should do it again sometime.” Shaking the sand out from your blanket, you become startlingly aware of the sudden silence hanging over the four like fog. You realize before Mark even speaks up that, chances are, this will be a regular thing.

He hesitantly says, “Well, I was thinking… maybe we could—”

“Yes. I know what you’re gonna say. I don’t think Jinae would mind hanging out, either. Anyway, I feel like I’ve known everyone for years, and the teasing is kind of fun,” you say, cutting him off. You return the smile he tries to hide before swinging your bag over your shoulder and waving to the others. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“Wait!” Youngjae yelps. You watch with wide eyes as he jumps up and gives you a warm hug, encasing his arms around you only for a moment but still long enough for your heart to warm. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you smile, patting his cheek and waving once more to BamBam and Mark. You start up looser sands when Jackson finally separates from Yugyeom after shoving him once more into the sand for good measure. “Careful you don’t kill him!” You shout over, watching with a laugh as the older boy whips his head up like a dog summoned by the shaking of the treat bag.

“Are you leaving?” He shouts, bouncing away from Yugyeom and jogging to you. Abs. “Yeah,” you say once he has reached you. “A shower is calling my name.”

“Are we hanging tomorrow?”

Looking to the three still lying out a few yards away, you shrug. “I’ll be here. Who knows with Jinae, though. Sometimes she gets bored of beachin’ every day.”

“Oh, well, whatever you guys decide to do, we’ll be here,” Jackson grins sinfully, slapping your arm before walking away. Of course you couldn’t have gotten a hug from him. “Keep your eyes out for the baby!” He suddenly calls, and you twist around to dumbly watch the tanned boy return to his friends. Your heart is suddenly beating loudly in your ears, and your internal fire only intensifies when said baby whines, pulling you into his chest, “Why are you leaving?”

Sucking in a necessary breath, you practically fall limp against Yugyeom’s hold, pressing your cheek against his chest but turning away from his friends in fear that they’re looking. “I want to shower. And eat. Plus, I have some dramas to catch up on.” At this he leans back, gazing down at you peculiarly. You’re painfully aware that his arms are still looped around your waist. He’s just a touchy guy, you tell yourself as he continues to groan like a child denied what he wants. “We could get food together.”

“Don't fret; I'll be back tomorrow,” you offer, satisfied when his lips quirk up and the corners of his eyes crinkle. “And probably all the days after that. Also, when school starts, I bet we’ll all be hanging together. We have plenty of days to get food.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He smiles, his expression soft. Then he pulls you in for another hug. “Text me when you get home.”

Flustered, heart beating frantically, you choke out, “I don’t have your number?” Grunting in realization, Yugyeom reaches for your phone in your hand. You watch with a held breath as he tries each of your fingers for the correct fingerprint scan until it unlocks. He goes into the Messages app and puts in a new number. “You do now,” he smiles, irises reflecting gold specks. He hands your phone back, and it’s not until you cross both arms over your chest that you notice the goosebumps painting your skin. “Thanks,” you force, spinning on your heels and making way for the sandy walkway up the dunes.

“Come back to the grill tomorrow with Mark and Jinae!”

“I will!” You shout back, not daring to look back for fear that the tall boy will make your heart hurt more, in a way that it most certainly should not. You sigh and concentrate on the sand dried on your feet rather than how you hope he will decide to crash on your beach blanket again tomorrow.

“Pussy,” Jinae taunts as you crash onto her mattress. You struggle to stretch your leg out far enough to give her bare ass a feeble kick as she changes out of her uniform. Scoffing, you tumble to lie on your stomach, twirling a strand of recently washed hair in between your fingers. “Like you’re any better. I just met him today while you and Mark have been galloping around each other like eighth graders since summer started.”

“Touché,” Jinae says, accepting defeat. She tightens the strings of her sweatpants before thumping down on the bed to be beside you. The bed dips as she rolls to curl her form around your own. “I bet you’ll both be in love with one another by Saturday.”

You laugh and wrap your arm around her shoulders, running your fingers through her dark corkscrew curls, the only thing she fully acquired from her mother’s genes. “You and Mark already are in love. You just refuse to act on it.”

“Yeah, whatever, I don’t wanna talk about him.”

Sighing, you tug harshly on a curl. “It’s gonna happen this week. You and Mark will be official.”

“Mhm,” she hums, smirking. “And so will you and Yugyeom, Miss We-Practically-Fucked-In-The-Ocean.”

“Stop,” you whine. You retract your arm and drape it over your face, shielding the burn that is creeping its way up. “Seriously, though,” Jinae giggles, tugging at your elbow. “I can’t believe you met each other today. The attraction was unbelievable. Chemistry classes across the world are quaking.”

“Shut up.” Groaning, you roll away from her relentless probing. “Listen, he’s cute. Really cute and yeah, sure, we got along great. But who said that I’m ready to date again? And you don’t even know if he would be interested.”

“You could always ask Mark,” Jinae says as you struggle off her bed, leaving her sprawled out alone. “Double dates!”

“Yeah, sure, Jinae. Keep dreaming.”

She pouts. “You’re no fun,” she huffs, reaching for her phone. “Get out, it’s almost two-thirty, and we have to get up soon.”

“Can’t we skip the jogging for one day? Sleep in? No one wants to see the literal ass crack of dawn,” you yawn. Folding your hands in prayer, you beg her to give you a break for one day. Jinae ponders it for a moment, rubbing her bottom lip with her index finger, before an open-mouthed grin evilly lights up her features. “Sure.”

Squinting, you waggle an accusing finger at her while slowly backing out of her room. “I don’t trust you. Try anything, Kim Jinae, and your ass is out on the street!”

“You can’t kick me out!”

“Yes, I can!” You shout, finally allowing your grin to show once you have closed her door.

Maybe some days are just a tad more joyous than others.

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