#that may be too much for a short back-up story

[livingformintyoongi]

BTS fic recs

I wanted to do this a while ago, but felt like I hadn't read enough, until I checked my likes and got a shock to the face lol. I wanted to give some recommendations of some fics (and a series) that I quite enjoyed reading, plus leave a small review because I feel like it's very underrated to comment on what you like something (people, comment more, I swear it makes a writer feel so much better than a like). There's the occasional spoiler in the reviews, so I recommend you read it carefully or just skip the comment ^^.

Dawning by @wintaerbaer JJK

summary: He’s never invited into your world during these late night sessions. You always push him away or ignore him. This is new. warnings: heavy depictions of depression and panic attacks, a brief line where taehyung worries oc is s**cidal. I really loved this fic. For a moment I thought it was some kind of two shot or something, but it only has this one part. Still, I felt the author captured the emotions very well. It felt so realistic that even I was worried when Y/N disappeared lol.

Bottle up old love by @wintaerbaer KTH

summary: Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep. warnings: language, a short harassment scene at the beginning (nothing too intense), explicit content including: unprotected sex (DO NOT), fingering, praise kink, biting, marking, spanking, cum eating (sort of?), big cawk soft dom jk, cowgirl (yeehaw), creampie, cockwarming. This fic made me remember why I love the exes to lovers trope. I loved seeing Jungkook as a tattoo artist, it's like, I don't know, so him, anyway, I loved it. I just found this account yesterday in the wee hours of the morning and I'm already loving it <3.

Cat-astrophe & Cat-enaries by @dumpywrites MYG

Summary: Your pet cat keeps going to your neighbor’s apartment and it’s a problem.  I fell in love with this Yoongi like you have no idea. When I just read the first part I was so eager to keep reading, seriously, I loved it, it deserves so much love.

Two Days by @dumpywrites JJK

Summary: He just wants you to give him two days. He'll take you on a few dates and you'll decided if you actually like him? Or not? I live for Jungkook being simp of the reader, I feel it's so real lol. This fic made me feel so warm inside, it was too cute to read. It's kind of like my comfort fic.

S'more than friends by @borathae MYG

Warnings: subby!Yoongi, switchy!Reader, consumption of beer, so much awkward tension, jealousy, sex in a tent, mutual masturbation, handjob, fingering, making out aye, Yoongi loves her boobs and she loves his butt it’s a win-win, sex while other people are sleeping, public sex, she has a thing for his hands (but what’s new lmao), fluffy post-orgasm talks because I’m soft. I read it a while ago now, but I remember when I did I felt so soft. This Yoongi is just too cute.

Please don't go by @httpjungkookcom JJK

Summary | Jungkook’s never kept anything from you, ever. Not even the time where he tripped and accidentally kicked your dog, or when he fucked the most popular girl in high school and couldn’t make himself cum (poor guy was embarrassed for weeks), or when he accidentally rubbed all of his acceptance letters in your face without realizing. To put it short, Jungkook is an open book to you. So when he suddenly disappears, there’s a lot to question. Even more to question when he finally gets back and won’t tell you anything, going as far to avoid you. You’re on a mission to figure it out, even if it kills you. Index | Jungkook is so smart, but so stupid at the same time. Jungkook is not sly in the slightest. Kind of angst, fighting, arguing, bickering, etc. Criminal activity, it’s a Spider-Man fic. Injuries and mention of blood. College setting and age, reader and Kook share the same major. Some cute fluffy moments in between all of the action. Aunt Yoon is essentially Aunt May in the Marvel story line.  Spiderkook, is more needed to read this fic? It was the first one I read about this au and I was WONDERED. God, you can't imagine how much I loved it. I thought it was so cute the way Jk approached reader being in his suit….

Accidental roommates by @jjkeverlast JJK

summary: moving apartments is stressful and difficult enough as it is. all the planning and packing and multiple moments of rearranging furniture; all you crave is peace. yet it seemed like peace was far within reach as the owner of the apartment had left out one tiny crucial detail from the ad — a ripped tattooed adonis, coupled, with a tiny baby daughter will come as your roommate. warnings: second hand embarrassment | jungkook's abs | annoying antics | suppressed feelings | both of them are stubborn and petty (it's gets tiring lmfao) | mentions of past relationships | a lot of time stamps | sexual tension | ft. namjoon 👀 | !constant change of perspective between reader and jungkook. I have a tremendous weakness with dilf, no matter who it is, I just love them. I think this was the first one I read by Jungkook. It was so fun and easy to read that the 14.7k words flew by for me.

Silk & Stones by @taegularities KTH

Summary: “Taehyung was a writer… he was a writer indeed.” Kim Taehyung knows his way around words – they cast a spell on your heart and mind, leave you gasping dangerously fast. Until the mystery behind his persona unveils and his touch, along with his words, becomes a vivid memory. warnings: writer + violinist tae 🥺 who’s a gentleman in the 19th century, brief mention of injuries/a mental institution, misunderstandings, heartbreak, secrets, grief, much poetry (and my attempt at writing a poem, pls spot), much disgoosting fluff, flirting and lots of sexual tension; explicit sexual content: 2 sex(y) scenes, fingering on a boat, choking, teasing, begging, praising, soft dom!tae, big dick!tae, tiddie fondling/sucking, some manhandling, dirty talk, they’re just so cute :((, oral (f. and m. receiving), some masturbation, oc is into neck kisses, some biting, fingering, hair pulling, asking for permission :(, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (it’s the 19th century...), aftercare; there’s quite some angst ok; lmk if i forgot smth !! This was a work of art for me. I felt so immersed in the story, so confused by the time changes and everything surrounding Taehyung, but I loved it, one of the best stories I've read of Taehyung since I joined tumblr.

17 going on 27 by @hansolmates JJK

summary; one second, you’re sobbing at prom because the most popular guy in school dumps you due to your relationship being a little prank to break your heart. the next? you’re a creative editor at Ego, the hottest young adult fashion magazine. as you try to figure out what’s the deal with this sudden time skip into adulthood, you come across relationships and friendships that are made to be cherished and made to be broken. genre/warnings; fluff, crack, future enemies to lovers, teenage and adulthood angst, time skips from high school!au to late twenties!au, 13 going on 30!au, all your romantic movie tropes come to life! a really big mess honestly, various movie and music references, mentions of sex, use of alcohol, everyone give jin and jimin a big ol hug, language, a surprise guest from the queen of england. I love adaptations, especially ones that add their own touch, and the writer did it so well. She made me hate Jungkook, and then love him, and then hate him again, in the end I ended up resenting him, I wanted reader to stay with Jin lol, but I still loved it. Definitely my favorite part was having Jimin as a best friend, I loved watching him take on Jungkook in the car. We all need a friend like him.

Hot Bot by @httpjeon JJK/PJM/KTH/JHS

JJK: You order a sex robot online after getting a coupon for half off. however, there’s something strange about yours. PJM: Fear is primal and causes one to make stupid decisions. KTH: Your parents have a gift for you, however, there’s been a mistake. JHS: As a product tester, you have one of the most sought after temporary positions in Hot Bot Inc. This is a series that has smut, I think the name gives it away. It's rather sad that the writer is on hiatus, but he left the gems of his works open to the public. The series is pretty good, I fell in love with Jungkook (and Yoongi kskjdsksjds). Highly recommended.

The proposal by @hansolmates JJK

summary; Jeon’s the editor-in-chief for Big Hit Publishings, a closet romantic with a penchant for antagonizing his assistant on the reg. When his work visa is in the process of being renewed and he takes a trip to Norway, his eligibility to stay in America is on the line. However Jeon Jungkook doesn’t go without a fight, and in order to save his job he offers you a proposal you can't refuse. genre/warnings; the proposal!au, fake marriage au, enemies to friends(!!!), friends to lovers, bouts of flangst, dry humping, slight blood but not too bad, lang, alcohol, poor jjk discovers he has the ability to feel emotion, poor y/n is in the middle as always. I was looking for an adaptation of this movie for so long that when I found this one I almost cried with emotion. I LOVED the movie and the concept it had, and I was so happy to read this fic that captures that very romcom essence that the movie has. I loved it.

Marshmallows and report cards by @untaemedqueen KTH

Warnings: Impreg Kink, Marking, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Birthday Sex, Spitting, Begging, Praise, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Big Dick!Tae, Multiple Orgasms, Unprotected Sex, Possessive!Tae, Cock Warming, Creampie. I already confessed, this kind of fics get to me. I remember reading it and melting with the ending. I read it a long time ago, so I can't give a longer opinion, but I do remember that I loved it and came out internally squealing after I finished it.

Orange tulips by @kainks JJK

Summary: You’d remember Jungkook with every life you lived. Only he’d never remember you, never recall how your fates were written in the stars since the beginning of time. Genre: Angst. Fluff. Light Smut. The anxiety and helplessness I felt reading this fic are on another level. This scarred me, I read it once and I was never the same person again. It was wonderful, I felt so many things and I was so nervous during the whole reading that I almost didn't even realize when it was over. It is a very enjoyable fic.

What if I love you too much? by @taleasnewastime

Summary: Jungkook. It’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. Before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. And though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. You don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. Because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. All the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself. Warnings: Single mum, small fights, explicit sexual content, oral (f receiving), safe penetrative sex, reader thinks Jungkook is cheating/playing the field, angst, but also fluff, child gets injured (though not seriously), talks of cuts and a small amount of blood. This fic left me feeling bad, it even made me question some future decisions regarding my relationship with my future partner and the necessary communication that must be had in a relationship from the beginning, especially if there is a child in the middle. It was something I really enjoyed reading, and even though I had my internal dilemmas with Jungkook, the drabbles in the story helped me a lot to let go of my grudge (I swear I have nothing personal with him sksjkajskajsj).

#bts x reader #bts x you #bts fanfic #fanfic #bts imagine #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #fiction #bts x oc #taehyung x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #taehyung x oc #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #jimin x female reader #jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin x y/n #jimin x oc #hoseok x reader

[georgescitadel]

George R.R. Martin on the process of creating A Game Of Thrones (1/3)

You hold in your hands the second volume of A Song of Ice and Fire… but not the second volume as originally intended. Although I wrote the opening of A Game of Thrones back in the summer of 1991, as related in my introduction to the Meisha Merlin edition of that volume, it was not until October of 1993 that I drew up a proposal for my agents to take to publishers. There is no mention of any book titled A Clash of Kings in that proposal. In 1993, I was under the impression that I was writing a trilogy.

Trilogies had been the dominant form in epic fantasy ever since J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings had been broken apart by publishers and released in three volumes. And the story that I wanted to tell divided quite naturally into three parts; much more so, in fact, than The Lord of the Rings, which is actually one fairly seamless narrative, and not a trilogy at all. I planned to title the books A Game of Thrones, A Dance with Dragons, and The Winds of Winter. I knew right from the start that they would all be large books. Huge books, even. But there were to be only three of them, and…and none were to be called A Clash of Kings. Sometimes the author is the last to know.

As I write this, I am halfway through the writing of A Feast for Crows, the fourth volume of my ‘trilogy.’ There is no mention of that title in my 1993 proposal either. These days, when pressed, I confidently assert that A Song of Ice and Fire will ultimately run to six books… but behind my back I know my lady Parris is smiling knowingly and holding up seven fingers. She may be right. Though I may dream of six books, plan for six books, work toward six books, the only thing that truly matters is the story. And the story needs to be as long as the story needs to be.

In Hollywood, the suits will tell you how long that is. A television show has to fit within its allotted time slot, of course, and you cannot beg, borrow, or steal an extra minute, no matter how much the story needs it. Running times are somewhat more flexible for films, though not as much as one might think. For the most part, the studios still want movies to run about two hours, so they look for screenplays of 120 pages or less, and demand cuts in any scripts that come in longer. My own screenplays and teleplays were almost always too long and too expensive in first draft, so in my later drafts, along with addressing the inevitable notes from studio, network, and producers, I was constantly trimming. In the end, I would deliver a shooting script that was the right length and under budget, but it was never a happy process… and I often went away feeling that the earlier drafts were the better ones.

The size of A Song of Ice and Fire was in no small part a reaction to ten years of trimming. I wanted to do something epic in scale, something at once grand and sprawling and complex and subtle, with a cast of thousands, huge battles, mighty castles, gorgeous costume, lavish feast, great rivers, towering mountains, vast fields… all the things I could not do in television. In short. I wanted to make a world. And for that you need a bit of room.

In my original proposal, I estimated that each volume of the trilogy might run as long as 800 pages in manuscript. The novels that I had written during the 70's and 80's, before Hollywood, had generally come in at 400 or 500 pages or thereabouts, so an 800 pages book seemed very lengthy indeed. The three books of the trilogy would be structured around the long, slow seasons of Westeros. A Game of Thrones would be summer’s book, A Dance with Dragons would take us through autumn, and The Winds of Winter… well, the title says it all. Even in the Seven Kingdoms, where a season can last for years, 800 pages ought to give me enough room to reach the end of summer and conclude the part of my tale, I reasoned.

‘Twas a lovely plan of battle… but no plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy, it has been said. Writers know the truth of that as well as any general, though our wars are fought on blank white sheets of paper and empty computer screens. For the map is not the territory, the blueprint is not the house, the recipe is not the dinner… and the outline is never ever the book.

- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings Limited Edition Introduction (2002)

#Ned Stark #Catelyn Stark #Sansa Stark #Arya Stark #Bran Stark #Jon Snow #Tyrion Lannister #Daenerys Targaryen #The Outline #A Game Of Thrones #George R.R. Martin #ValyrianScrolls #ASOIAF

[mydearestdaryl]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 ‧₊˚ ✧

Summary: Drabbles of Heather being walking baby fever.

Warnings: None, I think, hehe.

Pairing: Daryl x Greene! reader (they're in love, they just don't know yet).

Setting: Prison.

A/N: I try but can't find the inspiration to write Mama pt. 2, so here's this compilation of a few short drabbles of Heather in the prison era to make up for it. I tried to explore more of her bond with the entire group, not just reader, which was very fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much. Thank you for reading!

Grandpa's magic.

Little Heather was growing. She was almost 2 and a half years old, which meant she was more talkative, independent, and enjoyed playing and having fun more than napping; the opposite from her infant days.

The toddler was currently tucked in for a nap in the bottom bunk of the cell she shared with Carl, Daryl reading her latest favorite story from a book you found for her: Cinderella. “An' they lived happy ever after, night-night baby,” Daryl said, before kissing Heather's head and getting up from his spot on the bed.

“No night-night!” Heather announced, kicking the sheets off her and sitting up. She yawned, evidently tired, but fully determined to resume playing bubbles with Beth as they had been ten minutes ago. “Bubbles, Daddy,” she suggested, her little legs dangling off the bed as she pointed at her shoes; a silent request for her daddy to get them on.

“No bubbles, Heather, yea gotta take a nap, ya'll get all cranky if yea don', like (Y/N),” he joked as he watched you walk by, earning a sarcastic ha-ha from you.

“No nap,” the toddler stated, jumping off the bed to get her shoes on herself. Behind him, Daryl heard a laugh, finding Hershel slowly crunching down the hallway, “Ershel help!” Heather exclaimed as she saw him too, lifting a shoe up and waving it at the grey-haired man.

The old man, laughed again, turning to hobble on his crutches into the kid's room. “How may I assist you today, young lady?”

“I need ma shoes on,” the little one said, holding it up so Hershel could take it.

“Well, I heard it's your nap time,” Hershel mentioned, sitting at the edge of the toddler's bed and slowly lying down on the bed. “I was going to take a nap myself, but I was looking for some company so we could share some cookies when we woke up.”

Curiously eyeing her daughter to see if the old man's trick worked, Daryl lightly snorted as he watched her gasp excitedly, rushing to the edge of the bed and trying to climb up, succeeding with help from Hershel.

In a scene far too endearing, the toddler crawled on top of the old man, using his chest as a pillow and holding him comfortably as she allowed her tired eyes to close now without a fight, “night Ershel,” she mumbled, her excited smile fading into a resting expression as she quickly fell asleep.

“Yea actually got cookies?” Daryl asked in a whisper, brushing a strand of hair out of his baby girl's face.

“Glenn found some Oreos on yesterday's run,” Hershel whispered back, closing his own eyes too, fixing the pillow under his head. “I might as well rest a bit too,” he mentioned. “I'll let you know when she's up.”

With a nod, a mumbled 'thank you,' and a gentle pat on the older man's shoulder, Daryl left his daughter's cell.

There was a weird feeling in his chest, but it wasn't bad. He just never thought her kid would have such an amazing grandfather figure. He was more determined now to find the deer Hershel had been talking about craving a few days ago.

So much love.

Toddling into the kitchen for dinner after story time with her dad, hand inside his, Heather beamed when she saw you, running to you as fast as her tiny legs allowed her to hug your leg. “I love you, (Y/N)!” she exclaimed.

“Aw, I love you too, munchkin,” you happily replied, picking her up and hugging her while tickling her neck with your nose, eliciting the sweetest laugh from her. Then you set her down on the floor again, and she rushed to Beth.

“She jus' learned what it means,” Daryl explained, taking a seat next to you.

“I love you means,” Daryl started, pausing as he thought of the answer. He was not sure since he had never truly experienced something like that. Maybe during his childhood, when his mom was alive. Perhaps even the way he felt for you now… it came close. Hell, maybe it was.

“'S when someone makes yea feel real happy like yer heart smiles when you're with 'em. An' they make you feel good about everythin', like things are gonna be alrigh",” he explained. “'S when you wanna kiss them face all the time, an' give em hugs,” he added, kissing his daughter's face over and over until she pushed him away playfully.

“Love you, Bef,” the tiny human said to your youngest sister.

“Love you, Heather,” Beth giggled, placing a kiss on the toddler's cheek, who received it happily and went on to her next 'victim.'

“Love you, Cawl,” she stated confidently despite the R's still being a bit tricky for her. She hugged the fellow kid, who hugged her back before tickling her. She chuckled, trying to tickle Carl back.

“Love you, Cawol,” she said to the older woman as she ran to her. Carol's face softened and responded by ruffling the girl's hair.

“Me too, little one” Carol uttered.

“Love you, Wick,” she told Rick hugging his leg, still a bit unable to pronounce his name, making the former cop exhale a laugh, “and I love the baby,” Heather added in a whisper, feeling rather grown as she was now the oldest baby in the group.

“Right back at ya, kid,” Rick said, playfully poking her tummy. Her eyes scanned the room, searching for the remaining group members.

“I love ya, Glenn,” she threw herself into the young man's awaiting arms, getting twirled in a bear hug that made her laugh out loud. When her feet touched the ground again, she immediately ran to your other sister, “I love you, Maggie,” she said while the latter placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Love you, Heather,” she replied with a big smile.

“I love you, Ershel,” Heather giggled as she reached up to be held by the old man, who happily obliged.

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

Still smiling, she ran back to Daryl, chanting as she approached him, “And I love you the mostest, Daddy!” He welcomed her into a big embrace, repeatedly kissing her cheek, tickling her neck with his beard as usual, and making the kitchen echo with her sweet, childish laugh.

Tiny human, big feelings.

“Hey, Heather, check this out!” Carl called the little girl, excited to show her his new slingshot. However, the toddler was too focused on her tea party with Bunny, her plushie, to respond or even look at him, so the boy decided to shoot the smallest rock in his pocket near her direction to get her attention.

Big mistake.

Not proficient enough with his aim, Carl shot the rock straight at Bunny's head, knocking its eye off. A gasp escaped Heather's little mouth before she screamed in terror.

All the adults gathered in the kitchen where she was with concerned expressions to see what the fuss was about, Daryl being the first to get there. The hunyer eyed Carl suspiciously for a second before he kneeled next to his daughter, wide, scared eyes scanning her in search of an injury.

“Wha's wrong, sweetheart? Yea hurt?”

You approached the scene, placing a hand on Carl's shoulder to ask if he was okay, Rick doing the same on his other side. The poor boy looked so guilty.

“Bunny, Daddy!” Heather sobbed, showing her father the one-eyed toy before holding it close to her chest as she cried in her daddy's arms. “Cawl hurt 'im!”

“I- I didn't mean to! I just wanted to show her my slingshot,” Carl confessed, his voice growing quiet at the end, dropping his head when he noticed Heather's uncharacteristically enraged glare toward him. “I'm really sorry Heather, I can fix i-” he started, kneeling to her height and trying to reach for the toy, but she yanked it away.

“NO!” She shouted, tears still streaming down her chubby cheeks as her dad lifted her up, trying to shush her. “Bad Cawl!”

Gulping down the urge to scream at the boy for making his baby girl sad—breaking cycles, as he heard you say once, Daryl simply patted his shoulder with a frown, “Go on, le's give 'er space ta calm down,” he suggested to everyone; the crowd soon dispersing, going on about their chores.

“Daddy, fix it,” Heather pleaded as her tears and hiccups subsided, nearly 10 minutes later.

“Y'know, I'm gonna need Carl's help with this,” he winked toward the boy, who had been sitting nearby with his dad, resolute on getting the toddler to forgive him. “Whaddaya think, sweetheart? Carl wants to make it better too.”

“'Kay, but be caweful,” she warned them, reaching for Rick to hold her as Carl darted to Beth's cell to borrow her sewing supplies while Daryl got the patient ready on the table. Rick blew raspberries on the girl's tummy, successfully making her laugh again and distracting her from the eye surgery performed behind them.

“All done!” Carl presented it proudly, getting Heather's attention, although she still stared at him with resentment. “He's good as new, see?” Carl added, handing the plushie to her gently. Taking it in her tiny hands, she inspected her treasured toy.

“Heather, I'm real sorry. Can Bunny, you, and I be friends again?” Carl begged, finding her gaze when she tried to avoid his eyes, making her giggle as she was doing it on purpose.

She considered with toddler wisdom. Carl did fix it after all, and Bunny was all ready to play now. Humming while tapping her finger pensively against her delicate chin longer than necessary just because, she finally agreed, “Ok, we're fwiends.”

Wriggling excitedly out of Rick's grasp, she grabbed Carl's hand and dragged him back to her tea party to play. No slingshots were allowed this time, though.

Taglist: @ledgeria16 @poisonmedixon

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon headcanons #daryl dixon x reader #twd #twd fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #dad!daryl

[whispering-ways]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡ i like you (too much) - part 1 ♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

♡ summary: you just joined a new high school and you're hoping to make a bunch of new friends. unfortunately, you're paired up with Akatsuki and he seems to despise you. nevertheless, you're determined to make it work. little do you know that you're first interaction would lead to a wonderful friendship and possibly even more.

♡ pairing: bakugo katsuki x reader

♡ tags: no warnings, just fluff :) but the next couple of parts may or may not have some smut ;)

♡ notes: hi besties! I'm back finally with another fanfic after months. I'm so sorry for my hiatus, but I've been super busy with college. I'm graduating in literally in 5 days which is so exciting (neurosci and psychology BS) and also been working on a patent and been doing patient trials in the neurosci lab I volunteer at and been applying for grad programs, so its been a lot. but I'm back with a new (long) Katsuki fic now that things have finally settled! Really this was a story with my OCs, Drew and Kressie (names still yet to be confirmed but that's what I've got for now) but I thought this would still work with Bakugo. Let me know if y'all want me to post the OC version too :) hope you guys like it!

As you sit in the principal’s office with your parents, you start to drown out the principal’s monotonous voice. All you cared about in the moment was how you would fit in. Middle school had been terrible; a journey chocked full of bullies and spending lunches alone. So when your parents told you that the 3 of you were moving to a new state for your dad’s fancy new job, you thought this was your chance to wipe the slate clean. Start afresh and make some friends this time around. You’d been excited for weeks, but now sitting here about to start your first day, you felt your stomach churn with anxiety. 

The principal calling your name brought you back to reality. “So Y/N are you ready to start your first day? I know it’ll be halfway through your periods, but still your first day if you think about it!” 

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, picking up your backpack. 

“I’ll take you to your new classroom,” said the principal, standing up and opening the door for you, gesturing you to follow him. After saying goodbye to your parents, you head outside the office with a big sigh, readying yourself. It felt like forever before you reached your classroom. Your principal knocked on the door and stuck his head inside. You heard him say something to the teacher inside, but couldn’t quite make out what. She came out a couple moments afterward and the principal left you in her hands. A short introduction later, she brought you inside to the front of the class.

“Hey everyone, I’m sorry to interrupt you all in the middle of quiet work time, but we’ve got a new student. This is (Y/N) and she’ll be in our class from now on,” she said with a big smile on her face; it was almost too cheery. “I’m hoping since you only came in a week late, it won’t be too hard to catch up with the class.” She scanned around the classroom before continuing, “Looks like we’ll have to place you in the back with Katsuki. We share one big desk between students, so I hope that’s okay with you.” You nod and the teacher turns towards her desk, reaching down to grab a packet. “Here’s what we’re working on right now; answer as best as you can and don’t worry about getting questions wrong. You’ll be sitting right over there,” pointing to the back.

You look toward where she gestured to find a guy in a black hoodie, his eyes covered by his hood and lip curled in disdain. “Fantastic,” you thought, taking the packet from your teacher’s hand. “It’d be my luck to be put right next to someone that looks like they’d kill.” You plop down in your seat and look towards your new deskmate, smiling at him as an olive branch. Maybe he was super nice and just didn’t know how to show it. 

He looked at you up and down, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as if he was wondering why you’d even dare to look over. With a sigh, you turn back around and start to work on your packet. You wouldn’t consider yourself super smart, but definitely above average. But ‘above average’ wasn’t going to cut it for this packet. You chose to take Calculus to challenge you and to look better on college applications, but looking at the work in front of you, you regretted your decision. This stuff was just way too complicated, but you were determined to figure it out. 

You look over at Deku to see whether he’s struggling too for some sort of comfort. To your disappointment, you see him flying through the work, his head practically buried in the packet. You tried again to work through the first problem. “Find the derivative of the following function...what even is a derivative?” you thought to yourself. You pulled out your phone, hoping to try and find some sort of video to explain what was going on when you felt a tap on your shoulder. 

You turned around to find your teacher smiling at you once again. “Hey (Y/N), I hope the packet is going good, but in this classroom we don’t use phones to search up answers. If you’re having trouble, why don’t you ask your deskmate to help you out? I’m sure Katsuki would love to help you out!” 

You slipped your phone back into your pocket, giving your teacher a tight-lipped smile in return. “Out of all people, why did I get paired with him,” you pleaded internally. After a few moments, you give up and decide to ask Katsuki for help. “Hey, uh... would you mind helping me out with this question please?” No response. You cleared your throat, hoping to draw attention to your request. Nothing, nada, zilch. It’s then that you noticed he had some earbuds in. “Maybe he really just couldn’t hear me,” you thought. A few moments of contemplation later lead you to tapping his shoulder, hoping to finally get his attention.

He whipped his head around, giving you the chance to get a good look at his face. The first thing you noticed were his eyes. His eyes were red, probably because of contacts, and were coupled with dark circles; it looked like he hadn’t had sleep in weeks. You were finally able to see his hair peeking out from under his hood which had been messily bleached blonde with brown roots growing out. His lips were still in a snarl. “What do you want?” he asked, spitting out each word with anger. “Don’t you know when people are trying to ignore you?”

A hit and a miss. There was no doubting it now; he definitely hated you. You hadn’t even been in the classroom for 20 minutes and your high school dreams of making friends were already coming crashing down. You were just about to reply when he snapped back at you “What? Just going to stare at me forever or something?” 

See, you were nice, but not nice enough to let that sort of behavior go by without saying anything. “What the fuck is your problem dude? I just wanted to ask you about derivatives. Damn, a bitch can’t even be curious about math anymore,” you retorted. You were hoping to put him in his place a little, but instead, you heard him chuckle. 

“Ok fine, I’ll help you out. I’ll admit, that was a little funny. But this doesn’t mean we’re all buddy buddy, okay? I just want you off my back.”

“Sure whatever gets me done with this packet,” you said, flipping through the pages of the problems till you found the one you were looking for. You pointed to the derivative question and said “Just explain this one to me and I’ll be out of your hair. I just don’t really know how to get started with it.”

With an annoyed sigh, Katsuki gets started on explaining it to you. “Okay so basically all you’ve got to do is just differentiate all 3 parts and then add it. Was that too hard for you to understand or something or did you finally get it?”

You didn’t want to say it, but you didn’t get it. What was differentiating? Subtracting? You had no clue. But you couldn’t admit that, not when he was acting so rude; you had way too much pride for that sort of confession. “Let’s say I didn’t get it. I totally did, but if I didn’t, would you be able to explain it more in depth?” you ask him, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on your lie.

Katsuki definitely picked it up. He wasn’t stupid. But he was dreading having to talk to you more. He wasn’t trying to make friends or talk to people and be all chit-chatty; all he wanted was to be left alone, but unfortunately, you didn’t seem to be picking up on that any time soon. He grabbed your sheet and put it right between you two. If you wanted a in-depth explanation, you were going to get one. Bit by bit, he explained every single step of the problem, dragging out each individual part unnecessarily. That’d teach you to bother him again. 

What he did not expect was the beaming smile you gave him in return. “Thank you so much! That actually helped a ton dude! See I knew you could be nice,” you say as you bring the packet back to your side to continue working on the next couple of problems. 

Your response threw him for a loop. Sure, Katsuki was confused over how he could seem nice, but what really had him was your smile. He could’ve sworn it was the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Slightly crooked, but still shined like the sun. He turned around, pulling his hood down to cover the slight blush that had appeared on his face. He hated the feeling he had his stomach now and it was all your fault. He knew it was a bad idea to help you.

He dove into his work, trying not to focus on you. It felt like decades before the bell rang and people started packing up to move to their last period. Out of the corner of his eye, Katsuki saw you whip out a folded piece of paper, which opened up to reveal your schedule. He heard you sigh as he was packing up and he already knew what was coming. As soon as he came back up from zipping his backpack, he was met with your eyes looking at him and he knew you were about to bother him again. 

“Uh... so I’ve got my next period in room 2301, but I have no idea how to get there. I think its English Lit with Ms. Carlisle, but like we only have 10 minutes to get there and I don’t want to get lost. Do you mind just giving me some quick directions?” you ask.

He wanted to say no and tell you to get lost. But it seemed like his mouth betrayed him when he heard himself saying “Yeah ok, I”ll take you there.”

“Oh! I mean you don’t have to really take me to the room, but I appreciate it a lot!” you reply cheerily with another one of your smiles.

“Do her cheeks never hurt from all that smiling?” Katsuki thought to himself. “It’s whatever, I’m in the same class too so I don’t give a shit.” he said, standing up and slinging his bag over one shoulder.

He starts walking away and you take that as a sign to start walking or be left alone in the classroom. With a wave to your teacher, you speed up to catch up to him. It was a bit awkward walking beside him but not talking. You’d initiate some sort of conversation, but it looked like he was ready to bite your head off and you already felt like you were pushing it. 

Thankfully, Katsuki ended the awkward silence between you two, “So.... like, where did you move from?”

“From Florida, but not like city Florida, think like retirement home type of Florida. North Florida specifically.” you rambled, trying to fill up the silence between you for a bit longer. 

“Cool, so you’ve like seen gators and shit then?” he said, looking down towards you. It was then that he took notice of the height difference between the two of you. He wasn’t super tall by any means, but compared to you he felt like a giant. 

“I mean I’ve seen a couple snakes, gators... and a few lizards too! Nothing too scary though!” you say with a smile. He nodded in response and a silence settled over you two again. You started to rack your brain for something to say to keep the conversation going, when you suddenly felt a yank on your backpack.

“Don’t just fucking walk off, we’re here, English Lit,” Katsuki says, pulling you back to the front of the door after you’d walked right past it. 

“Oh! Thank you” you reply, holding the door open. “After you.”

Katsuki felt weird walking into class and it had nothing to do with the quiz the class had to do today. He walked over to his usual desk and felt you follow behind before sitting down right next to him. You put your bag down in your seat and walked over to the teacher, probably to go introduce yourself. It was obvious to Katsuki that he wasn’t getting rid of you or the weird feeling you gave him every time you smiled anytime soon. 

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sweetest laugh he had ever heard. He turned towards the source of the sound and he wasn’t surprised to see it came from you. It seemed like everything you did added to that weird feeling he felt in his stomach. He hated it. You sat back down next to him, syllabus in hand along with a couple of other forms for you to fill out. 

Class seemed to drag on forever for Katsuki. It took everything in him to focus on what the teacher was saying rather than how your eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and how you chewed your pencil from time to time and how you drew tiny little flowers and hearts on your notes whenever you got bored. The bell finally rang, releasing Katsuki from what seemed to be his own personal hell. He got up wordlessly to walk towards his car, ready to leave and go home. He made it a couple of paces outside of class before he felt a small tap on his arm. 

He turned around to see you looking up at him with big eyes. “Hey.. uhh.. Could I maybe get your number? We have to finish that packet by tomorrow’s class and I know there’s a good chance I could be confused again, so I was hoping to maybe get your help again?” you ask. 

How could he refuse those eyes? With a sigh, he held his phone out to you. You looked up at him quizzically. “Do I need to explain everything to you? Put your number in already. I’ll text you back so you can have mine” he snapped. 

You took his phone and typed in your number, saving your contact while you were at it. “There you go, all saved and everything,” you say. You couldn’t even fully finish your sentence before Katsuki snatched his phone out of your hands. 

“Well, it was nice meeting you Katsuki, but I’ve got to head to the buses soon. I think my bus is leaving in like literally 10 minutes. It was nice meeting you though and hope to see you tomorrow,” you say, running off to catch the bus before you were left without a ride.

“Nice to meet you too, I guess,” he whispered to himself. He hoped you didn’t hear it. He walked to his car, throwing his bag into the backseat and putting his head on the steering wheel. “What’s going on with me? Why is everything so weird all of a sudden?” he thought. He took his phone out from his hoodie, looking for your contact and, more importantly, to put a name to your face.

It wasn’t hard to find since it was the only contact that stuck out like a sore thumb. “Y/N..” he said, reading out your name. He noticed a small smiley face beside your name, a sweet detail that caused an unconscious smile to cross his lips. It didn’t take him long to notice and he immediately shook his head trying to drive his smile away. He put his head back on the wheel with a thud, letting out a frustrated groan. That weird and uneasy feeling in his stomach had come back again and he had a feeling it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

#my hero academia #bhna fluff #bnha fanfiction #bhna x reader #mha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bhna katsuki bakugo #fluff #smut #mha fluff #mha smut #my hero fanfic #my hero academia x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader fluff #katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader fluff #slow burn #my hero academia fanfiction #fanfic #bhna #mha #my hero #katsuki x you #bakugo x you #Bakugo katsuki x you #katsuki Bakugo x you #katsuki x y/n #Bakugo x y/n #katsuki Bakugo x y/n

[sunnytapioca]

Escape

SN!Donnie x GN!reader

Short comfort story

You sighed staring out into the open high rise buildings of New York as the sun began to set, hiding behind the tall buildings, glistening at the orange and red.

Footsteps approached you and you turned your head to see him, Donnie. Your best friend, your lover approaching you with a gentle demeanor and a soft expression, taking a seat next to you heaving his legs over the edge allowing his legs to dangle. “Don’t lose your prosthetic now.” You joked with a small smile. Earning a small jab in the arm from your boyfriend. “Why are you up here Dove?” He began giving you a soft look. “Just enjoying the view a bit.” You half lied. “Now you know how we both are about honesty dove. You only come up here alone when something’s wrong.” Ah yes, he knew you all too well now, he understood you like no other. No use in hiding it now.

“Fine, you caught me.” You admitted. “Just needed to get away I guess.” You huffed. “Away from?” Questioned Donnie.

“Away from life? Works been stressful, my parents aren’t exactly the most understanding of my situation, I’m burnt out, I don’t go out anywhere my sleep schedule is shit and I struggle to just be normal.” You frustratingly said fidgeting at your fingers. “Why would anyone want to be normal? Nothing about this life is normal love.” Began Donnie, gently grabbing your hands to stop you from picking at them he looked out. “I don’t understand the life on the surface much. I’ve only just started to. I can’t help much but I can tell you that it doesn’t have to be that way. I was once told by a friend that you only live in what you allow yourself to live in. Now at first I didn’t understand what it meant, in fact I was too angry to try and understand.” He paused with a small smile. “Only recently I understood finally, and it was by watching you, hearing you now that I see what it meant.” He muttered, his eyes glossing over staring out into the buildings.

“What.. does it mean?” You croaked out, eyes locked onto his expression. He turned to you slowly. “It means, you’ve got to think outside the box, instead of looking at all the problems you have and letting them drown you, try to look for a new angle, see how you can fight it in your own way, not a way someone tells you to. That may seem impossible at first, and it’s difficult, it took me a long time. Though eventually the more you see how you can tackle a problem differently the more you see there’s other ways to everything, there doesn’t have to be just one, and maybe some ways might seem crazy, some might seem absurd. What matters is you find a way to make it bend to your will.” He tried explaining. “I’m not the best at this feelings bullshit so I’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense.” He grumbled. “No, I think it’s cute..thanks Dee” you smiled, caressing his cheek, earning a soft churr from him.

“Still doesn’t help me escape from all of this.” You sighed.

“Then let me be your escape dove. When you need to just come to the lair, and you can stay for as long as you want.” He offered. “How about this, we go back to my room, we set up a movie for us both. No one will interrupt it will just be you and I my dear.” Which peaked you. “Alright, sure.” You muttered. “Right now I just want to enjoy us.. here.” He nodded at you, locking your fingers together as you leaned against each other, enjoying the sunset.

My sweet escape.

⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚ ⋆˚☆˖°⋆｡° ✮˖ ࣪ ⊹⋆.˚

Thanks for reading this short story. I hope you enjoyed.

Taglist: @hikari-michiko @fishsticksloser @daniibirb @peachidee24 @shadow-is-here-and-queer @little-mouse-gardens

#sunnytapiocaspeaks #sunnytapiocafics #rottmnt future donnie #donatello x reader #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rise donnie #SN!donnie #Shattered Nightmares AU

[landinrris]

Re: your tag “a top 10 video of the day tbh” - that made me curious. What ARE your top videos of the day and why?

Shuffled back through the videos for this, so here we go in no real particular order because I'm endeared to all of them and horrible with ranking things when they all make my mind vibrate in equal amounts. Shoving this under a "read more" because it got long (top 10 moments and all) and fic-y.

I'll start out with the first real video of the day that I remember (not counting Shaun Farrugia's Insta Story that clued everyone into Lando being on the boat). Just them dancing with each other in essentially a circle of people. Martin's hand on Lando's shoulder, his thumb splaying out along Lando's collarbone. Makes me weak and ill in equal measure. They have several moments caught on camera that feel like a "this is us being close while still in public," type thing.

Them dancing together at the Decks. Who knows the state of Lando's sobriety at this point. It's so carefree and open. I love the little flags on his cheeks and the ribbon around his head (the chain of his necklace poking out the back of his hoodie overtop his undershirt). I'm pretty sure this is around the same time that Lando asks Martin if he wants a drink as well because Eva's on the other side of Martin as the camera pans up.

This is a more understated moment that's pretty quick, but I just love that they're dancing in their own little world with everyone. Parked up next to each other because where else would they be? (original video link)

This video of them with Lando asking Martin if he wants a drink 🫠. Lando taking the second to ask Martin if wants anything, Martin pulling him close so he can hear what Lando's trying to tell him, the person recording the video panning over to them and then almost immediately pulling away, Martin stealing Lando's drink and then not letting him go while he pretends to drink it.... it's every bit of the video as you can see 😅. Like bro, you can let go of him, it's okay. But no, it's another one of those little moments I mentioned earlier where they can let themselves have this little thing in the middle of a crowded boat with who knows how many cameras pointed in their direction.

This video simply because it's cute and short and sweet. Them both vibing. I've put it here more so because of Lando's little dance and shimmy. It makes me sickeningly endeared. Lando may have quit DJing apart from special circumstances, but you can tell he loves getting into the rhythm of it.

I have... too much to say about this one... The fact that they're kind of sequestered off to the side a bit- Lando even behind what looks like a makeshift curtain of clothing. There are a few others around them, but boy if their attention isn't solely on each other. Their little mirrored dance is so much as well. But what absolutely annihilates me is the way you can tell they're both smiling at each other towards the end. Plus the fact that it looks like Lando either leans into Martin as the video cuts, or Martin pulls him in. In any case, it's a moment of privacy and it makes me ill.

These are two long Insta stories I recorded for reasons, the first one more pertinent to it immediately being here than the second. I just love Lando sitting in and amongst everyone. He's sitting next to Martin's father (which is an entirely separate thing tbh) chatting and having fun. The second video was included because when the lights go off and a spotlight shines back onto the area he was, Lando doesn't seem to be there, which was an interesting note I wanted to have in the records because of the shot of Martin making his way back in that direction during the first half. Much to think about. (Tumblr didn't like my embedded video, so here's a screenshot of the first bit, but you'll have to go through the link to see all of what I'm talking about)

This was just a quick tiny thing piggy-backing off the last video, but it's a more closeup shot of Lando chatting with Martin's father. It makes me all soft inside that he gets close with the families of the people important to him. (Tumblr also didn't like the embedded video that was originally here, so here's a screenshot if you don't want to click through to see the actual clip)

Putting this video here because of both Mat Normann's arms around Lando, but also because Martin's there vibing and dancing by his side. Like, they're truly just existing and having a good time. Need to know who gave Lando that stupid little visor. But again, I love it for the subtleness and the comfort with how packed that room was.

And then finally, this video that might as well be an hour long. The smiles, the bouncing back and forth... Martin's arm moves away from Lando at one point, almost like he was pulling Lando at the beginning. Many thoughts head very full. They almost never get to do this at the same time with each other, and it's an addicting feeling.

#damn the twitter vids for not embedding properly but i've got the links in the little blurb for those. i just couldn't find those videos #on instagram or tumblr to properly embed them #anyway i took ''top 10 moments'' seriously even though there weren't many not included that i have access to #they were truly living their best lives yesterday and i am so happy for them #lando #martin #norrix #ask

[daydreamerdrew]

Wonder Woman (2016) #797

#yay to Mary thinking to herself ‘transform into the hero Shazam’ #obviously I love the character but I don’t want her to go back to the name Mary Marvel #I wonder if it’ll be that she goes by Shazam in the stories that Josie Campbell writes #but say if Mary shows up in the upcoming Billy ongoing written by Mark Waid then he’ll write her as Mary Marvel there #I wouldn’t like the inconsistency but he was saying that they were allowed to and so would be calling her Mary Marvel again #he also said that after the Lazarus Planet event that Billy wouldn’t be able to say Shazam without transforming anymore #so I wonder if that’ll become true for Mary as well :/ #anyway the final fourth issue of New Champion had Mary saying that she couldn’t be a hero like Billy #who throws himself into situations without thinking #in a positive way- she was emphasizing herself as a planner #here she’s feeling a bit of shame and insecurity about being conflicted about something #and framing Billy’s ability to leap into action without thinking in a positive way in contrast to her #the ending of this story gives her reassurance about what she was conflicted about #but I wonder the next Mary back-up will continue the planning vs spontaneity insecurity or if that’s settled #and if it doesn’t tie in too closely to the Revenge of the Gods book then I wonder if we’ll get the conclusion or the beginning of it #to the plotline of Mary going to college away from her family #which was established but then not entirely returned to in New Champion #that may be too much for a short back-up story #dc #mary batson #my posts #comic panels

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2023. THAT WE MAY LIVE and NO EDGES from Two Lines Press.

NO EDGES came in my Migrations subscription box earlier this year, and I finally got around to reading it this week! It's a collection of Swahili fiction translated to English. I love little multi-author anthologies because it's the perfect amount of taste testing without committing. My favorites were A Neighbor's Pot by Lusajo Mwaikenda Israel and the excerpt from Nakuruto by Clara Momanyi.

Up next is THAT WE MAY LIVE, which is speculative Chinese fiction in translation! The whole series of books looks really cool, so I'll probably be adding all of these to my library piecemeal.

#books of 2023 #book photography #my photography #books #calico #two lines press #in translation #no edges #that we may live #i will not be tagging authors there are simply Too Many lmao #featuring the nano pen and only truly orange mug i own (the owl is like orange brown lol) #i also read no edges over like three days because the stories are short and the book is short and there's a lot of white space lol #good little morsels #i think i prefer multi author anthologies to one author anthologies because there's more Variety?? like i go for collections for a sampling #--of everything and that's easier with More Authors #one quibble with these i've seen on goodreads is that there's not much Context Up Front #which is true. the stories are presented without comment #so far both of these have been themed by language/region but apparently they've got other themes too #the author and translator blurbs in the back are helpful though!! #unfortunately it doesn't look like i can find a copy of the whole of NAKURUTO (which is a novel) in translation anywhere lolsob #so that's kind of a bummer because i did like what i read!! #very excited for the chinese one because the stories look Weird and Fucked Up and that's My Jam

[uefb]

I absolutely love writing Newt Scamander as a dad. Absolute mama bear. Occasionally clueless and entirely ineffective? Sure, yeah, probably. Yet still always aggressively protective, in his own special way.

#fic: a teenage legilimens #oc ch: ephesus rafael goldstein scamander #newt scamander #fantastic beasts fanfic #my stuff #this one may never get completed bc it’s just a short one shot & doesn’t have much plot but it’s fun to scribble away at things sometimes #regardless #also fife has grown up to be the kind of kid that would join a frat #which is to say — he’s far more theseus than he is Newt & combined w the legilimency he’s got Weasley vibes #but Newt loves him nonetheless — and Tina loves him too - even tho she ironically blames all his rule bending on newt — the stories far #more complicated than that lol #anyway rambling #uefb rambles in the tags #back to statistics fml

[ao3commentoftheday]

Do you have any advice and how to write a long fic?

I'll encourage long fic writers to add on in the notes, but as someone who tends to prefer short and medium-length fic, I'll tell you how I go about it.

Get a premise that you just absolutely love. You're going to be writing this thing for months, if not longer, so you want it to be something you're willing to spend a lot of time thinking about.

Embrace subplots. You'll have your main plotline that you want to see through from beginning to end, but you can also weave in some subplots here or there. The way I do this so that I don't get lost down a rabbit hole is that I always make sure that every chapter has at least 1 thing that moves the main plot forward and then if I want to spend 1-2K with some side characters doing something fun I can do that as well. Subplots can extend for the length of the full narrative, but they can also just last a chapter or three. If you're used to writing short fic, these might give you that familiar feeling of "completion"

A chapter is only as long as it needs to be. Don't get hung up on having a consistent chapter length. Don't get hung up on hitting some arbitrary number every time. Instead, figure out what the next part of your story needs to include and write however many words it takes to get that chunk across. Varying your chapter lengths is a normal thing to do and not something to stress about.

The next thing that I find important personally may or may not be relevant to you, but I find that I can't plot anything in much detail. If I get too into the nitty gritty with my plotting, it just feels like I've already written it. I need to keep it at the level of "And then A and B meet C and hijinks ensue." I can figure out the particular hijinks later. It's the characters meeting up that's the next important thing for me to figure out. Getting too far ahead of myself is a death knell for me in writing long fics, but there are other writers who swear by it. Test out different ways of approaching it and see what works for you.

As someone who tends to write more briefly, another feature that's common to longer fics is more extensive descriptions. People spend time painting visual pictures of the setting or the characters or the actions that are happening. Write the more bare-bones style that focuses more on dialogue (if you're like me) and then go back and read through what you've just written and see if there are opportunities to add in more detail. This can lead to some really interesting characterization choices and also help you out with worldbuilding.

When it comes to worldbuilding, you don't have to get it all on the page. You just need to share what's relevant for the reader in that moment and what is useful to lay out now so that it's already there in a future chapter. You can have an encyclopedic knowledge of how your world works in your head, but it's not actually necessary. No one is going to be quizzing you later - and if they do, you can always figure it out at that point.

Most important for me when I'm trying to get myself to the end of a longer fic, have a friend or a group of friends who are also into what you're writing - or at least willing to hear you get excited about it. Being able to get excited about your work is so important. It's like a bottle of water being handed to you on mile 10 of a marathon.

#asks and answers #long fic writers go! #and short fic writers who have successfully written long #how did you go about it? #long post

[crystallinestars]

Kissing Headcanons

Since this won the poll, here are the promised kissing headcanons for Jing Yuan, Argenti, and Aventurine!

Disclaimer: I haven't finished the 2.1 main story, so my interpretation of Aventurine may be a bit off. I'm going off of my interpretation of him from 2.0, as well as a few screenshots I saw around the internet.

WARNING: Contains a spoiler for Aventurine's real name!

Jing Yuan:

🦁 Jing Yuan likes kisses a lot, but he’s careful to reserve them for when you’re in private. He doesn’t want anyone to intrude on your romantic time together and is aware that he must look professional while at the Seat of Divine Foresight. That is why the majority of affection he shows you is done at home.

🦁 Jing Yuan enjoys receiving good morning kisses when he wakes up beside you, as well as good luck and farewell kisses when he parts from you to go to the Seat of Divine Foresight. If you don’t give him at least one kiss before he leaves in the morning, he’ll pout and try to weasel one out of you. He won’t leave until he at the very least got to kiss your cheek.

🦁 When he doesn’t feel like doing his paperwork, Jing Yuan will come to see you instead. At your insistence that he should finish his stack of documents, he’ll demand you give him kisses to motivate him to work. As childish as his requests may seem, your kisses do seem to give him the energy he needs to finish his paperwork. Only after holding you captive in his arms and indulging in your lips for longer than he should, of course.

🦁 If you feel down and in need of comfort, the Luofu General wraps you up in a gentle hug and tenderly presses his lips to your forehead. His words may not be the most comforting, but with that kiss, he shows you that he cares about your well-being, and hopes to give you the comfort you crave.

🦁 Jing Yuan’s kisses are slow, yet firm. He likes to place a hand on the back of your head and pull your face closer, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. It’s unhurried and firm, his soft lips melding against yours as his hand brushes through your hair, lightly combing through it. He only pulls away when you both run short of breath.

🦁 He gives you time to recover because he can tell that his kisses leave you a little dazed and awed at how loved they make you feel. During moments like these, he looks at you with fondness and amusement, as if he were looking at a small, cute animal. You are simply too adorable for him to resist, so don’t blame him when he pulls you into another long kiss before you’ve fully recovered from the first one.

Argenti:

🌹 Argenti’s kisses are full of his heartfelt feelings for you. He is a passionate man, and that passion transfers to romance, and subsequently kisses, as well. He feels touched when he receives kisses on the cheek as a thank you for saving someone, especially if they come from you, but he seldom gives kisses himself. The Knight of Beauty takes kissing very seriously, and will only kiss someone he truly loves.

🌹 His go-to places to kiss you are usually your hands. Like the gentleman he is, Argenti likes to take your hand and place his lips on the back of it in the lightest of kisses, his mouth just barely brushing against your skin. He tends to give you these types of kisses when you are going out for a romantic date or when he is courting you because they are a display of his reverence for you.

🌹 Argenti also adores kissing your palms. He takes your hand and places it on his cheek while looking at you with verdant eyes filled with adoration and devotion, as if he were so smitten with you, that you were the most important thing in the universe to him. With a heartfelt proclamation of his love for you, Argenti turns his head to place a tender kiss on your palm, much more firmly than how he kisses the back of your hand. With these types of kisses, Argenti wants you to know how much he cherishes your very existence, and how lucky he is to call you his lover.

🌹 Since Argenti is the epitome of a gentleman, he tries to avoid overwhelming you with his kisses. When kissing you on the mouth, he takes things slow. The way he cradles your face in his hands is gentle as if he were handling porcelain, and he makes sure to lean in slowly to give you time to pull away if you don’t want this. You never do, of course, but he won’t stop taking things slow and gentle until you make it clear to him that you are not only okay with but also want to receive more intense kisses from him. Only then does Argenti allow himself to kiss you with the passion that flows inside him, yet one he restrains for your comfort.

🌹 With your consent, Argenti will give you the most passionate and sensual kisses you’ve ever experienced. He leads the kiss with tenderness and fervor, supporting the back of your neck as he angles your head just right to deepen the kiss. He’s not afraid to use his tongue, skillfully slipping it into your mouth and caressing your own in an intimate dance that leaves you breathless and weak in the knees. For all his gentlemanly behavior, Argenti isn’t shy about expressing how much he desires you.

🌹 Even so, he is still loving and tender towards you. Argenti likes to hold your hands or face when kissing you, and once he pulls away, he gazes at you affectionately while brushing the back of his hand along your cheek or tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. Every action is filled with care. He may not be the best at expressing his true feelings with words, but his actions speak louder than words ever will about how much he loves you.

Aventurine:

🃏 Aventurine had some prior experiences making out with people, so he knows exactly what he’s doing when kissing you. The gambler likes to catch you by surprise with a heated and sensual kiss, one that leaves you flushed and breathless by the end. Biting on your lower lip and tugging at it, slipping his tongue in your mouth, and even sucking on the tip of your tongue are all things he does to get a reaction out of you. The more flustered and weak in the knees you get, the more smug he looks when he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your mouths. Licking his lips while giving you a mischievous and pleased grin, he’ll look like a cat that got the cream as he observes your flushed state.

🃏 Aventurine is great at erotic and sensual kisses, he can give them as easily as he can receive them so you’ll never fluster him with one of those. However, he feels completely out of his element when you give him sweet and tender kisses. Aventurine is not used to receiving gentle affection, and at first, it scares him because it’s such an unfamiliar sensation that touches him deep in his heart.

🃏 He's used to heated make-outs that don’t mean anything other than lust in the end once the other person leaves, but your sweet kisses aren’t like that. The way you press your lips against his skin is soft and loving, the way a true lover would. Unlike those people he encountered in the past, you truly love him. Not the money he owns, not his powerful connections, not his material possessions—what you love is him. With time, Aventurine realizes that you’re not with him for a fun and exciting fling, but for something more long-term. You genuinely love him. Not his persona as Aventurine, but him as Kakavasha.

🃏 The way you cradle his face as you kiss the top of his head, your lips soft and warm against his cheeks, temples, and forehead all make his breath hitch and heart squeeze almost painfully. The gentle kisses make him want to cry, and he hugs you tightly for reassurance and comfort. When you sweetly kiss him on the mouth, Aventurine practically melts. He never knew how good such gentle affection could feel until you came into his life and gave him the affection he’d been subconsciously craving. As emotional as this makes him, Aventurine finds a sense of solace in your tender touches and he wants to feel more of your love even though he sometimes feels undeserving of it.

🃏 Aventurine also likes receiving kisses on other parts of his body, such as his neck and shoulders. He enjoys it when you hug him from behind and press your lips onto the skin of his shoulder or back. It’s such a small thing, but the gesture feels intimate and loving, proof that you love and want him. He tries to hide it, but such kisses make him shiver in a good way.

🃏 Despite enjoying having his neck kissed, Aventurine doesn’t like you touching his tattoo since it can bring up bad memories. However, if you kiss him there as an act of comfort when he feels depressed, it can give him a bit of solace. Though in times like these, he finds the most comfort being wrapped up in your arms and reassured with gentle words and soft kisses to his forehead. It might take a while for Aventurine to feel comfortable enough to be this open and vulnerable with you about his feelings, but please don’t give up on him. Don’t abandon him after you have shown him how amazing real love is.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #jing yuan x reader #argenti x reader #hsr argenti x reader #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #take a shot every time you read the word 'kiss'

[lucyrose191]

Hey could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader where she's been feeling unwell but insists she's coming to the track and he's worried about her. Long short story, their son (Jack) with her and she felt like she's going to go faint and she tell Jack to find Toto for her and Toto's being her knight in shining armor,rescued her. Just fluff and comfort. Tag me later. Thanks! :))

TAKE IT EASY| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Toto Wolff x Wife!reader

Summary; Your stubbornness to admit you may be feeling unwell might just be your downfall one day but your husband will always be there to catch you, as will your son.

Warnings; none

F1 Master List

You could feel the worried gaze of your husband from where he was standing in the en-suite getting dressed, he had woken up before you this morning which was his first notification that something was wrong but once he saw your flushed cheeks and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead he knew you certainly weren’t well.

He had tried to convince you to go back to bed but you refused, you were here to support him and Jack was so excited to attend a race again and whilst Toto was more than capable of looking after him, it was just easier for you to take care of Jack and entertain him because Toto still had work to do, a toddler didn’t just want to sit in the garage and wait for their father to finish a bunch of things before having fun.

So you insisted that you were fine and were adamant on going to the track, ignoring the churning of your stomach, fogginess in your mind and how weak your body felt.

Toto wasn’t happy with your decision at all, your health was so much more important to him than any race that he had brought up not going himself but you had shot down that idea before he could even finish his sentence.

So he relented.

You were now on your way to the track, the car wasn’t doing anything good for your stomach, leaving you to lean your head against the window with your eyes closed as you took deep breaths through your nose.

What was meant to be the comforting touch of your husband rubbing his hand back and forth across your thigh wasn’t helping with the nausea you felt either because all you could think about was how similar the touch was to him rubbing his hand up and down your back as you threw up.

Jack was in the back babbling nonstop about how excited he was to see Lewis again and hopefully sit in the car and you loved your son so much but your head was so fuzzy that everything he was saying you were hearing three times and you couldn’t think straight.

"Mama?" His small voice called out and you could perfectly hear the undertone of excitement.

"Yeah, darling?" You slowly turned around in your seat so you could look at him, mustering up the biggest smile you could for him.

"Can we see Charles and Carlos, today?" He asked, face filled with hope.

"We can do whatever you want to do but remember they’ll be very busy preparing for the race so they might not have time to speak with you."

"Okay, and can we see Bono?" He asked.

"Yes," you smiled weakly.

"And Mick?"

"If you want to, yes."

"And Lando and Oscar too?"

"We’ll do whatever you want to do Jack."

"Well I want food before we see Lando," he said strong cause you to laugh.

"Yeah, we mustn’t forget about that," you agreed before turning back in your seat. Of all the days for your son to be riddled with energy, today was not really ideal but you suppose that’s what comes with being a parent.

You rested your head back against the window, looking out at the streets you passed, reaching out blindly your clasped your hand with Toto’s that hadn’t removed from its position on your leg, hoping his touch could help you feel even the slightest bit better.

Toto released a deep breath as he turned off the car and turned to look at you. You hadn’t even registered that you had arrived at the track, still staring out the window in a daze. "It’s not too late to turn around and go back to the hotel, we can go back to bed." He spoke up quietly, not wanting to startle her.

You shook your head and turned to him with a smile, "I’ll be fine, come on, jack’s getting antsy," you responded, hearing your son trying and failing to unfasten his seatbelt.

Your husband huffed in defeat and reluctantly got out the car, opening the door behind his to let Jack out, you heard him entertain his childish rambling and as soon as the door shut you took a second to take a deep breath before getting out yourself.

"Mummy’s not feeling today so it’s up to you to take care of her okay?" Toto whispered to his son, who was resting on his hip, so you couldn’t hear.

Jack frowned and looked to his father in concern for you. "She’s poorly?"

Toto nodded "She’s doesn’t feel well, are you going to keep an eye on her for me?" Jack nodded with a determined look on his face before wriggling for Toto to put him down.

"Mummy!" He ran around the car as soon as his feet his the ground so he could get to you.

"Yeah, baby?" You crouched down, surprised when he wrapped his arms around your neck in a hug.

"I don’t want to see Charles, Carlos or Lando today, can we just get food and stay in Papa’s office and watch the race from the garage?" He asked.

You looked at him in confusion at his sudden change, he was beyond excited earlier and whilst you were relieved at the change in what he wanted, you were surprised at how abruptly he didn’t want to go and see the other drivers anymore.

"Are you sure that’s what you want?" You asked, skeptical as he nodded confidently but you reluctantly agreed.

"Okay then," you grabbed his hand and Toto grabbed his other as the three of you made your way into the track, you ignored the worried eyes of your husband that kept flickering to you every few seconds, the pair of you ignored the fans and shouts of media reporters as you weren’t in the mood to feign happiness and Toto was just far too concerned about you.

You had hoped that as day went by you would start to feel better but if anything you felt worse, you had went to hospitality with Jack to get some food to take back to Toto’s office but the mixture of smells had sent you spiralling and you tried to get out of there as quick as possible.

You and Jack had been in Toto’s office for about an hour and you hadn’t seen your husband in about two.

Jack was being on his best behaviour though, you don’t know where his change in what he wanted to do today came from but he seemed content sitting on the floor with his snacks and watching the live recording of the track on your phone.

You had sat yourself down on Toto’s chair to try and relax a bit but your head was spinning so much and your vision was starting to blur.

"Jack?" You called out weakly, you had tried to sound as though everything was okay as to not worry him but it didn’t work that well.

"Mama?" Jack pulled himself up to his feet immediately, live broadcast long forgotten as he saw his mother even paler than you had been this morning and leaning against his father’s desk, a thin layer of perspiration on your skin.

"Can you go get Papa for me? Tell him I need him quickly." You told him, trying to smile at him but your body didn’t even have the energy for that.

Jack didn’t need to be told twice, he turned around and ran to find Toto, opening the door with so much force that it banged against the wall before closing half way again.

"Papa!"

The Mercedes team all looked away from what they were doing and turned towards the sound of Jack’s panicked voice followed by the sight of him running through the garage with a petrified look on his face, searching for his dad.

"Papa!" He pretty much screamed, fear overtaking his body knowing that something was really wrong with his mother right now and you were alone and he couldn’t find his father.

The Mercedes team were worried beyond belief as they took in just how scared Jack was and how desperate he sounded for Toto who wasn’t in the garage at the moment.

"Jack?" Lewis slowly approached the boy who was stood in the middle of the garage, looking all around him, tears welling up in his eyes when he couldn’t see his dad.

He looked at Lewis frantically. "Where’s Papa?" He demanded.

"I think he’s speaking to someone right now, are you okay?" Lewis crouched down in front of him.

Jack shook his head aggressively, "I need Papa, Mama needs him quickly!"

"Where’s your mama?" Lewis asked as worry filled him. "Show me where she is, maybe I can help her?"

But Jack shook his head "no, she needs Papa, she told me to get him quickly."

Lewis sighed but nodded, a bad feeling was settling have in his chest for you. "Okay, you stay right here and don’t move and I’m going to go and get your dad, okay?"

"You need to be quick!" Jack told him desperately.

"I’ll be as quick as I can." Lewis told him, giving a look to the team to keep an eye on him before turning and quite literally running out of the garage.

People stopped and watched in confusion as they saw Lewis Hamilton running through the pits, looking around frantically for someone.

It didn’t take him long to see Toto sticking out from the crowd, in the middle of an interview with Martin Brundle, he didn’t care that it was live and brutally interrupted the pair of them, grabbing Toto’s arm. "You need to come with me, now. It’s important."

Seeing the serious look in his driver’s eyes, a million scenarios swirled around in Toto’s mind. He didn’t even excuse himself from Martin knowing that Lewis wouldn’t just crash his interview for no reason.

What took him back more was the fact that his driver had started running back into the direction of their garage and Toto didn’t hesitate to follow.

He couldn’t imagine how this looked, Lewis running through the paddock frantically, crashing Toto’s live interview and the pair of them running back.

"What is wrong?" He huffed as they weaved in and out of the masses of people crowding in the pits.

Lewis kept his voice down as he explained, not wanting this to hit the internet from someone overhearing. "I have no idea, Jack was screaming in the middle of the garage, looking for you. He said Y/N needed you quickly so I tried to get him to tell me where she was but he wouldn’t, said she told him to get you as quick as he could, he looked terrified."

A deep sickening feeling settled into the pit of Toto’s stomach as he quickened his pace, he knew you weren’t well today and the multiple scenarios of what could possibly have happened scared him.

"Papa!" Jack yelled as soon as he saw his father enter the garage, running straight for Toto and diving into his legs. "Quickly! Mama said she needs you."

Toto picked Jack up and looked him in the eye. "You stay here with Lewis, okay? I’m going to go see Mama."

Jack nodded, suddenly a lot more calm now that his dad was here and didn’t complain when he was passed off to Lewis.

Toto quickly made his way to his office and as soon as he stood in the threshold of the doorway, his heart fell to his stomach as he lay his eyes upon you, unconscious on the floor by his desk.

He was by your side in a second, kneeling next to you as he rolled you onto your side and moved your hair from your face.

"Liebe?" He gently tapped the side of your face, trying to coerce you out of unconsciousness.

At no response, he pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, grimacing at the amount of heat he felt radiating from your body. Looking around his office, he saw a glass of ice water sitting on his desk, he grabbed the glass and dipped his hand inside before pressing it back against your forehead, hoping it would cool you down a bit.

"Schatz?" He tried to wake you again, this time successful as he heard a slight change in your breathing and saw your eyes moving beneath your lids.

"Y/N, you’re okay, take it easy." He continued speaking to try and coerce you more awake, smiling when he saw your eyes open.

You were confused to see your husband hovering above you, your mind was foggy and your body felt so heavy you couldn’t move your limbs.

Looking around, you found that you were lying on the floor causing your face to contort into confusion.

Turning back to Toto, you blinked up at him and upon seeing the questioning look on your face, he explained. "You fainted, and gave Jack quite the fright too."

Hearing Jack’s name, your body filled with worry and you tried to sit up but Toto’s hands on your shoulders encouraged you to lay back down. "He’s fine, he’s with Lewis."

"Need a drink," you told him causing him to look at the glass on the edge of his desk.

"I’ll get you a new one, I put my hand in that one to try and cool you down," he told you.

You shook your head, "it’s fine," you held out your hand for him to just give you the one on the desk, not really wanting him to leave at the minute.

Toto brought the glass to your lips, insisting on hosing it for you since your hands were shaky and he didn’t want you spilling it all over yourself. "Have you had anything to eat?"

You shook your head, the idea of food earlier had knocked you funny but you know you should probably eat something.

"I’ll get someone from hospitality to make you some toast," he told you, not really giving you the opportunity to refuse, not that you would have anyways. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah, thank you." you replied, sitting yourself up to lean against his desk. It was as though passing out was what your body needed to recover because the fuzziness in your head had faded away, the hot flush all over your body was gone and your stomach was no longer churning anymore, it just felt empty.

"We should’ve stayed at the hotel," Toto repeated for what felt like the hundredth time today and you couldn’t even argue with him this time. "I know," you responded.

"Do you want to stay in here and rest while the race is happening? I can keep Jack with me."

You shook your head, "No, I want to watch it out there; I’ll be fine."

Toto sighed but nodded.

"Mama!" Jack ran away from Lewis and towards you as soon as he saw you and Toto leave his office, you smiled widely and crouched down for him to run into your arms despite Toto’s protests, knowing you still felt a bit weak.

"Hi, baby," you wrapped your arms around him tightly and rubbed a hand up and down his back.

"I got Papa just like you said," he spoke into your shoulder.

"I know, you did such a good job," you told him proudly.

Toto insisted that you stay near him whilst the race was happening, not willing for you to leave his sight incase anything else happened so you curled up on a chair beside him with Jack on your lap, the boy also not wanting to be far from you, with Toto’s large coat draped over the pair of you.

A plate of toast and a glass of water had been set in front of you next to the monitors and there was no way you could stomach all four slices so you and Jack split it.

The media had their speculations as to why Toto and Lewis had been rushing through the paddock but once they saw you snuggled up on the chair beside Toto, still very pale, they could guess what happened but they thought it was adorable seeing how the man would constantly glance away from the monitor to you and Jack to ensure you were okay, his hand stroking your hair away from your face every few minutes.

#formula one #motorsport #formula one x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fluff #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x you #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff x reader

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

prompt: 1800s price/reader…. reader flees to his town where Price is the sheriff after a murder in her previous town only to be mistaken for the mail order bride that Price just sent for ….and he’s not interested in hearing any of her excuses when she tells him that he’s got the wrong girl (part 2) part 1

-

The solid hand at your back guides you through the dusty streets towards the courthouse in the middle of town. It’s not an easy walk. Your shoes catch on the skirt of your dress a handful of times in Price’s haste, each time almost causing you to tumble forward before you manage to catch yourself. 

It’s patently unfair. The strides of his long legs would easily have you losing him in a crowd were it not for the way he refuses to leave you behind; every time you so much as slow down a tad to catch your breath, the firm hand on your low back presses you forward again. You’d be snippier if you weren’t still addled from the events of just five minutes previous.

“I beg you, please—” you plead, heart skittering in your chest when you chance a glance up to find Price’s face set. Everything about him feels purposeful now, driven. “If you just—if you would just let me explain!”

“Nothing more to know, darling,” he says, not bothering to meet your desperate eyes. Clearly not in any mood to continue arguing with you on the status of your identity. 

He tugs you along when he takes a right turn down a road leading into the center of town. The belt of bullets around his waist rattles with every step. It’s a constant reminder of who you’re with and why you should not be with him. Every step feels like a step towards your own sentencing, like accompanying your jailer to your cell. It’s perhaps fool’s luck that the sheriff hasn’t inquired further into your identity or your reason for coming into town. Makes you think that perhaps there isn’t yet a warrant out for your arrest. Maybe that’s only to come. 

“Sure there’s more!” you insist. “There’s—there’s—” It’s like the words fly right out of your head, bucked off like a bronc rider. Too much has happened in too short a time. “There’s the matter of—oh, would you quit that, I am walking!” The last bit comes out snappish, peeved as Price pulls you towards the stone steps of a red-bricked building. 

The words County Court House are inscribed above the second-story door girdled by a wrought iron balcony. It’s a simple building, far from the colonnaded buildings from back home with their cupolas and hand-carved lintels. Even in size it hardly compares, a meager three stories with perhaps a basement. Still, it catches the eye in a town as small as this, by far the most imposing building for miles around.

It’s also the one he pulls you towards, hand moving from the small of your back to take firm hold of your waist. You flinch at the touch and the way his fingers dig in, almost proprietarily. It’s a physical shock to your system. While you’re not unaccustomed to the rougher ways of men, you’ve also been largely shielded from it yourself. By chance or fortune or luck. Men may take an attitude with you, as they’re wont to do, but none have yet manhandled you the way Price feels free to do. 

“Take a big step there now, darling,” he says, lifting the front of your dress for you a tad, to your shock. “No accidents before the wedding.” 

“The wedding?” you shriek, face heating at the heads that turn to look over at the two of you. 

The courthouse is bustling with townsfolk, still not as busy as in the bigger cities back east, but still clearly at the center of all business activities. The few people that pass you by on the way out of or into the courthouse are bold in their perusal, eyebrows lifting when they take notice of Price at your side—and how could they not, with the size of him and the badge pinned to the lapel of his vest that glimmers when it catches the light. 

“If you were expecting something grander, you should’ve turned up last month when I sent for you,” Price says, stern again. In the foyer of the courthouse, you can see the way the long hallway cuts through the building, leading into the adjacent rooms until finally culminating with the courtroom at the very back. You watch as a man slowly closes the door to the last door, shutting the occupants in. “Might’ve been more amenable to it then.”

“I’m not asking for a nicer ceremony—”

“Good, then you won’t be disappointed.”

“—but that’s because I’m not the woman that you intended to marry in the first place,” you finish, quieting to a hissed whisper, conscious of those still lingering close enough to eavesdrop. In all likelihood, the other people milling around probably already know that the sheriff has been waiting for his mail order bride to arrive. They wouldn’t be the first people to mistake you for her.

He pulls you into an alcove off the side of the foyer. When Price turns to face you, no longer just the heavy presence at your side, it takes a moment for you to gather your bearings. He seems larger somehow, with his arms crossed over his chest and feet rooted into the floor, drawn up to his full height. The hair on his forearms draws your eyes momentarily before he steps into your space, forcing you to meet his eyes again. 

He stares down at you with an intensity that makes you flinch. “Now, far be it for me to say that I know my wife-to-be by her demeanor alone, given that we’ve hardly corresponded beyond our initial agreement. But I find it mighty strange that a single, unaccompanied woman would show up in town with all of her earthly belongings as I’m expecting my own woman to show up any day. Hardly seems coincidental.”

“Don’t you think I would have sought you out if we were intended to wed?” you ask beseechingly. “Or that I would put up such a fuss now? What sort of bride would do that?”

“You want to know what I think, darling?” The timber of his voice deepens as he lowers his head slightly, wrapping the conversation in a layer of intimacy despite its public nature. There’s a darker note to his voice now, a thinly-veiled anger. “I think you’ve been keeping yourself housed and fed off the back of men like me and the money you’ve been sent to compensate for the rough journey. I think your guilty conscience brought you here because you know that the Lord doesn’t look too kindly on swindlers and thieves.”

“I’m not a thief,” you hiss in protest, affronted. Ironic that you’d be insulted by his words when the truth is far worse. 

“I’m sure you had your reasons,” Price permits, a reluctant softness in his voice. “But your conscience did you right. Marriage will suit you far better than a life of crime ever could.”

If only he knew. “You’ve still got it all wrong—I’ve never once even glanced at the matrimonial pages or the personals. And I certainly didn’t come to town expecting to be wed.”

You did, however, arrive in town with a guilty conscience. Even you’re wise enough not to mention that, though.

“Then if you're not her, who are you?” he asks. 

It’s clear from his tone that Price doesn’t believe you, but the question itself makes you antsier than even the thought of marrying this man. He still stares down at you in challenge, an eyebrow cocked. If you wanted to, you could easily answer his question and even furnish proof—a letter from an aunt or uncle or a telegram from a previous employer. 

That last thought makes your throat squeeze tight. You could furnish proof, but at what cost? You’re still unclear on how much information has been disseminated or whether you're a wanted woman. Though only weeks have passed since the event that caused you to flee in a haste, there’s no telling whether a warrant has been put out for your arrest, no telling whether word has reached a town this far west. 

“Not that it matters, but I’m from New York,” you say, scrunching up your nose. 

The look he gives you is unimpressed. “I’m sure you lost the accent on the train ride.”

Embarrassment makes you dig your heels in deeper. “I didn’t grow up there, it’s just where I’ve lived for the past few years.”

“And what’s your name?”

“…Elizabeth Smith.” 

It’s the first name that occurs to you, but the moment the words come out of your mouth, you can’t help feeling like you’ve made a huge mistake. Price must sense it too because he draws back up to his full height, lips twitching into a small smirk. 

“You have family or a post back in New York, Miss Smith?” he asks in a patronizing tone. 

“Family.” 

“Alright, then it shouldn’t be too hard to get confirmation and settle this whole issue.” He points behind you to one of the unoccupied rooms. “Telegraph’s office just behind you. We’ll get in touch with the Census Bureau and ask them to confirm your identity. And, if you are who you say you are, Miss Smith, then we can put this issue to rights.” 

Your blood goes cold. “That’ll—that’ll take time though. I can’t marry you today if they only get back to you in a week’s time.”

Price nods, his expression dissatisfied but resolved. “Wouldn’t be proper for you to stay at the house either, but I’ll make sure the inn lets you stay free of charge until this is settled. You’ll be in good hands under the Pattersons’ watch.” 

He doesn’t say it outright, but you hear the implication in his words. You’d be essentially under house arrest, perhaps free to move about town, but certainly not free to take the next train out. 

Your pulse thumps nervously at the base of your throat. Even swallowing takes effort now. The weight of his stare takes root in you, a living coil in your belly. No getting out of it. There’s no getting out of this. You don’t know why you thought you could, how you tricked yourself into thinking for even a moment that a man as formidable as the one set in front of you would simply give in. Let you go. You’ve hardly even moved the needle. 

It’s there still in his eyes. Not even doubt—something quite far past that. Certainty. 

“‘Elizabeth Smith of New York’, was it? Come, we’ll have them start the message and you can give me your birthday as well so it’ll be an easy find—” Price says, attempting to slip around you to head to the telegraph’s office. 

“No.” 

It slips out of you inadvertently, high and panicked. He pauses at the word. More than just your words. When you look down, you notice your fingers clenched in the fabric of his sleeve, bringing him to a halt. It pulls taut against the muscle of his forearm. 

Softness bleeds back into him at your touch. You can see it smooth out the lines of his forehead and the jut of his brow. He ignores the onlookers still hovering by the double doors to twist back to you, now obscuring their view of you. The breadth of his shoulders nearly blocks the rest of the foyer from sight when he looms over you like this. Down the hall, you can hear a gavel pound down on wood and a litany of raised voices in unison from behind a shut door. 

“You don’t have to make up stories,” Price murmurs, drawing a hand up to cup your cheek, holding it like a precious thing. “I told you before—all’s forgiven.”

His words remind you of being trapped in his office, drawers stripped down your ankles and skirt pulled up to your waist. Your bottom still smarts from the palm of his hand, still hot and sore to the touch. It’s hardly been long since then and yet it feels like an age ago, like trying to find your way in a dust storm. 

You open and shut your mouth, lost for a way out. Caught between a rock and a hard place. Marriage or a jail cell. You swallow. Both sound like a sentencing. 

But there are the cold, metal bars of a cell, and then there’s John Price. The first man in an age to elicit more than a passing glance from you. Deep blue eyes crinkled with the folds of old laughter, wide shoulders, and barrel chest. In another time, you think you would’ve jumped at the chance to be courted by a man like him. Keeled over at the very thought of being chased the way he hunts you down now. 

“Alright,” you say instead, giving in. The hand fisting his sleeve shakes. “Alright.”

It’s not a pleasant giving in. Your permission is handed over with shot nerves. The coil bunched up in your core burns white hot, hissing and spitting like a rattlesnake. 

Still, when he drags a thumb over the slope of your cheek, you fight not to let your eyelids flutter shut. “Good girl. We’ll make it work, love. Won’t be easy, but it never is.”

You don’t anticipate that it will be, but your mouth stays shut. Price must think you mollified, soothed rather than resigned to your fate, because he passes his thumb once more over your cheekbone, this time so tenderly that you wait for his lips to descend upon yours again, sure from the heat in his eyes that he won’t be able to keep from stealing another kiss. You lick your lips out of habit—not just to see the way his eyes follow the motion. 

Then the door at the back of the building bursts open to a cacophony of shouts and hollering voices. The moment broken, Price drops his hand away from your cheek, only to take your hand in his this time, pulling you down the hall towards the register’s to await the circuit preacher. He makes you walk on the side closest to the wall, shielding you from the men that burst out of the courtroom, surging towards the doors. You think that someone must have been found guilty because the lot of them look joyous, clamoring over each other for attention. 

You think that you might be spared another minute or two, enough time for them to clean up and reset the courtroom, but you’re shocked to find the circuit preacher ready to conduct the ceremony in the cramped register’s office. He and Price shake hands enthusiastically, the preacher turning to you to grasp your hands in welcome before turning back to the sheriff. They have a camaraderie that speaks of old friendship. 

The cramped room where you’re married smells of patchouli and moth wings, like holes burrowed into sweaters at the back of a closet. The bookshelves along the walls are stacked with books old enough that you know they’d crinkle deliciously if opened. You try to listen as the preacher begins the introductory prayer. Behind you, another man slips into the room, a witness. He hardly bothers to introduce himself for such a brief affair. 

You haven’t been to many weddings, but you always imagined that yours—if you were privileged enough to have one—might have more fanfare. The wedding you actually get is a brusque affair, a brief recital of vows that ends only when the preacher enjoins Price to kiss his wife. 

His wife. 

Your eyes go wide when a hand flattens along your spine and pulls you into a hard chest, John dipping his head down to kiss your mouth again. His kiss is less chaste this time, not restricted by convention as earlier. This time, his tongue licks hot into your mouth, like no kiss you’ve ever had before, beard scratching your face. His mouth tastes like something you’ve never had before, like heatburst. Hot and wet. Soft and suckling. Any kiss you’ve had before pales in comparison—juvenile fumbling, all dry and half-humiliated, unsure of yourself. Nothing like being kissed by your husband.

Your husband. 

He only pulls away when the preacher finally clears his throat, a tad embarrassed. You’re too dazed to feel the same, fingers still sunk into the lapels of Price’s vest, clutched there. It takes a moment for your brain to catch up and your hands to unclench. You feel Price tug your hands away and slip something onto your finger.

The few documents needing to be signed hardly takes any longer. You finally notice the man that had slipped in behind the two of you, a masked man even larger than Price, who nods at him before glancing at you only long enough for you to notice that his eyes seem curiously blank. 

“Thanks, Simon,” Price says as the man—Simon—signs under your names, but he only grunts. The ink is still wet when he leaves. 

“How was it so fast?” you ask absently, staring at the papers as the ink sits drying and the preacher takes his own copy before handing John his. 

“Everything’s practical out here, darling.” His hand holds you by the waist again, relaxed this time. Not worried about whether you might run. “Even the weddings.”

“You don’t…you don’t even serve dinner? Invite guests over? No gifts?” The questions are irrelevant, but you ask them anyway because it’s a way to focus on anything other than the preacher handing you the final copy of the papers and Price leading you back down the hall and out the doors. 

There’s a ring on my finger, you think, looking down. It sparkles when you twist your hand from side to side. Topaz, instead of diamond. 

“Maybe if you’d showed up on time,” Price reminds you. He no longer sounds upset about it, but it still seems to come out as an admonishment. 

You don’t respond to that. Perhaps you’re still shell-shocked, looking at the world through new eyes. It feels unreal that in the span of less than a day, you’ve been plucked up and married off, to the sheriff no less. The one man you would’ve tried your hardest to avoid crossing paths with. 

No chance of that now. 

“Where are we going?” you ask, still in a daze. The sun makes you squint when you leave the courthouse, making you miss the hat back in your room at the inn. Maybe you can convince Price to let you go back to collect your things.

“I think we’re due for a honeymoon, don’t you, darling?”

You go doe-eyed at that. When you look up, your husband is already smiling down at you, crow’s feet wrinkling at the sides of his eyes. 

“Let’s go home.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #john price #captain john price #price x reader #john price x reader #captain price #cod price #price/reader #price x you

[nightdiary]

last night's story | jake

pairing: jake x female reader word count: 28.2k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yea? I’m glad, too.”

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunghoon nods quietly as if to urge you to continue.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just over a week now.”

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

“I really do mean it, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your total’s $270.59.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go see a movie or something?”

“All the new releases look like shit.”

“Get some coffee?”

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

“Yard sales?”

“No, it’s hot as balls out.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

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

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

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

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

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, I–”

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

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

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

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

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

Breathing in sharply, you nod.

“Okay,” he says simply.

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

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

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

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

“I wouldn’t mind,” you say cheekily.

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hoonie, I’m sorry, you know I–”

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

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You– Why’d you keep all of this?”

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

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

“Can I tell you something?” Jake asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☀

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

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

Until shit begins hitting the fan soon after.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You knew you would be back eventually.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay, it’s a date,” you grin.

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That sucks,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How are you feeling?” Jake whispers.

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

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

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

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

☀

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what I think?”

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

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

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

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

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

taglist: @enhastolemyheart, @fakeuwus, @jakesimsgf, @hannivrse, @jayk2025, @bluesoobinnie, @luvvsjungwonn, @cha0thicpisces, @thejjrl, @sweetjaemss, @ohmykwonsoonyoung, @yaatrickyaaa, @albono-bueno, @itstessasblog, @emiliasstuffs-blog, @ddeonugu, @bloobworld, @loveleejn, @flower-lise, @jayfrvr

©nightdiary 2024. do not repost.

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

[dcxdpdabbles]

Freelance Inventor Part 2

Dedicated to @jimmysorsprinkles Thank you for enjoying my random dabbles. I saw that you wanted more Dads, Danny/Bruce, who are unknowingly co-parenting, so here it is! (set during the first prompt through the years of Danny just being a dad whenever he's home)

"I just don't know what to do," Bruce admits, watching Dick stomp about in tiny angry circles, muttering in his native tongue under his breath. He's been out there for about a half hour, doing laps in the yard. Danny knows he deliberately chose to do so under the window leading to Bruce's office.

The kid definitely wanted his guardian to know he was mad at him .

It was the fact Dick was unconsciously hunching his shoulders, curling his fist, and even raising his knee slightly higher than he needed for his stomps that were a nod to Bruce whenever the man was upset.

It seemed like Dick had picked up habits from Bruce during his short time here. If anything, Danny thought it rather cute if it weren't for the fact Dick was so upset.

"What happened?" He asked, standing beside Bruce, overlooking the pre-teen throwing a fit.

Bruce's frown is sharp and hinted with just the edge of uncertainty that anyone who didn't know him well would have dismissed. "He was being reckless in one of our extreme sports, and when I rightfully scolded him for it, he took it as me not trusting him."

Danny tilts his head, considering. It's been over three years since he became acquainted with the Waynes, and in that time- between his travels, his inventing, and his general desire to learn all he could in any way he could- he noticed that Dick was very quick to anger as a defensive mechanism.

This clashed horribly with Bruce's own mechanism- which was shutting down or at least emotionally wise. While Dick sneered and raged against the world, Bruce tried his best to forget he was human and detached himself from the situation.

Which wouldn't be so bad if it didn't feed into Dick's insecurities or Bruce's anxiety when they both reacted to adverse situations.

He has spoken to Jazz about it, and his sister has given him some advice that has helped him smooth things over with the young boy. Empathizing and paraphrasing the boy's issues was a big step in letting him feel heard and his feelings acknowledged.

For Bruce, he treated him like a ghost who had never seen a human. Plenty of ghosts were never human, were born in the ghost zone, or had been there for so long that they had forgotten what humans were like. Danny took time to explain why someone reacted the way they did- at least, why he thought so- and never made Bruce feel less for needing the help.

It was fun, in a way, to see Bruce's eyes lighten up with understanding and get him to talk about his rooted issues, but having to do so on carefully balanced tones and word choice. Phantom had so much practice de-escalating ghosts that it was a walk in the park with Bruce.

"I'll talk to him," Danny promised, leaning over to rest his hand on Bruce's shoulder and not batting an eye when the taller man landed down to rest his forehead on Danny's shoulder.

Where Bruce couldn't say in words, he yelled in his actions. It reminded him a bit of Wulf.

Bruce took a deep breath before nodding. "Thank you."

Danny hummed, reaching up to pet Bruce's hair like he would soothe Wulf, on days the werewolf would twitch too much at the door slamming, and suddenly his friend was mentally back in Walker's prison. "No problem. But, I will also be speaking to you later, and you are going to listen to Dick's side of the story without interrupting at dinner."

"Yes, Danny"

Alfred threw him an approving smile as he marched outside to meet Dick's rage-filled eyes and nervous hand twitching. He could catch the ending bits of whatever rant the boy was muttering.

"You're right. Bruce is an idiot sometimes." He starts grinning as the boy's eyes narrow further.

"You don't speak Romani."

"I may not understand what you're saying, but trust me, I feel it." Danny chirps, watching Dick's shoulder relax a little. " What did he do this time?"

"You won't even believe it!" Dick snaps, and then he's off, Danny keeping pace with him step by step as the boy works himself into another frenzy.

Later that night, Dick explained that he hated how Bruce made him feel so belittled and unimportant, his voice tight with a itch to fight, and Bruce carefully- with significant prompting from Danny- explained how he didn't mean it that way. He was only worried that he was about to watch Dick die in front of him, and he couldn't live through losing his family again.

Dick looked shocked to be considered family, and Danny swore he helped the boy sneak into Bruce's office, which so happened to have the adoption papers Bruce was hiding. Alfred gave him a large sample of pudding for dessert.

______________________________________________

"Hey, kid," Danny whispered, watching Jason tense up momentarily. It's not overly noticeable, but Danny has grown used to seeing little ghost blobs show emotions by how they twisted and twirled over the years, so he could tell what the slight tightening of the fingers around the book meant.

Anxious.

It would be understandable if Jason had been present for another one of Dick's and Bruce's explosive arguments. He came from a household that had an older male figure beat him whenever Willis got in a mood, so while he knew that Bruce or Dick would never hit him, Jason still tried to make himself scarce.

Jazz was the one to point out Jason's usage of escapism in the form of books to comfort himself, and so Danny took whatever time he could manage to read the same books as Jason while on his travels.

"What?" The boy grunted, voice soft but weary.

Danny sits across from him, making sure to stay in Jason's eyesight at all times. He had realized in only his second visit after meeting Jason that the boy did not like having someone too close in his space.

He grew up on the streets where being weary of older men kept him alive- Danny would never fault him for what he had to do to survive.

Unlike Dick, who was always down to talk about why he was upset if only to rant, Jason preferred to have a distraction. So he offers him a smile that he hopes projects You're safe with me and pulls out a book from his bag.

Jason's eyes light up at the cover. "I had some theories on Mr. Darcy being in love with Mr.Bingley before he met Elizabeth, and Bruce won't agree with me. Help me find citations as proof?"

"It's so obvious that he was, how can the old man not see that!" Jason snorts, tilting his head in a cute habit that he picked up from Dick. He really looks up to his big brother no matter how tense things can get.

Danny is glad he's gotten Dick to explain to Jason that he didn't hate him, but he was going through a lot, and Jason as a street kid, understood on some level.

"The old just hate listening to other people's suggestions even when we're right!." Jason leans over to read the book Danny places between them, considering Jane Austin's work while Danny files away the real reason he's upset with Bruce.

Later, after Jason and he present a bemused Bruce with a report on why Mr.Darcy is bi and had feelings for his best friend before meeting his wife, he tells Bruce to explain why he didn't consider Jason's suggestion in their extreme sport.

Jason goes to bed that night with a better answer than "because I said so," and Danny forces Bruce to go up to his room and re-read Pride and Prejudice to connect with his youngest.

Alfred offers them extra blankets and pillows since the two get so caught up reading to each other that Danny just decides sleeping in Bruce's bed is easier than walking down two wings to the guest rooms.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm not going to bed," Tim snapped when Danny knocked on his door. His fingers are flying over the keyboard of his computer, his little face glowing from the computer screen, and Danny is almost reminded of himself whenever he gets caught up in his work.

It may worry Bruce and Alfred, but Danny is a Fenton. He knows what it's like to have his brain run over time and sacrifice sleep or meals to get his ideas into the world.

His mother is the same, his father is the same, his sister is the same, and even Danny's clone is the same. It's fitting that the little boy he caught following Batmam around with a camera is the same since he all but forced Bruce to adopt him.

He hadn't meant to.

He had been testing an air purifier when he returned to Gotham since Bruce and the kids were out of state, and his ghost hearing picked up the sound of a camera click.

Imagine his surprise that when he turned to the roof opposite him, he found the tiny little face of an eleven-year-old staring back, holding a camera, and Batman swinging away in the distance. Danny became attached to Tim that night, even after he chased the boy down to ask if he was safe.

He did not like the implications of his parents always "working" while Tim ran amok in Gotham.

It took almost two weeks of following Tim around Gotham to help him with his photos before the boy allowed him to take him to Wayne Manor. It took three more before Bruce realized that Danny wouldn't allow Tim's parents to win him back, and together, they took the Drakes to court.

Danny has never been more grateful that Bruce was loaded with money and that his inventions gained him contacts in high places that wouldn't mind taking the Drakes down.

Tim was a lot like Bruce- where he shut down- but he needed people to be around him more. Sometimes just sitting in the same room- where Tim could glance up and see him- was enough for the boy to be at ease.

This was great for Bruce, who thought he didn't need to do much to make Tim happy- until Danny reminded him that Tim was a poor boy who was gutted for any form of parental approval.

He had to almost punch Bruce after overhearing him tell Tim he was proud of him, but there was room for improvement. Bruce meant it as helpful, constructive criticism, but Tim- whose parents all but drilled how useless he was- only heard criticism.

Only heard, he was not enough.

So now Tim was going, who knew how many hours without sleep, trying to fix whatever issue he thought he had caused. How a fourteen-year-old could have caused issues at his adoptive dad's multimillion-dollar company was beyond Danny, but it meant a lot to Tim, so he didn't need to understand it.

He just needed to respect it.

"Don't want you to," Danny grunts, throwing himself on Tim's queen-sized bed. "I just wanted to know if I could crash here. Bruce pissed me off."

Tim's fingers pause. "What did he do?"

"He tried to tell me how to handle my inventions' payment. I'm a freelancer! I know how to do that." Danny complains while twisting under the covers. Tim slowly turns around to look at him, but he acts like he doesn't notice. "I know he'll try to talk to me in the guest rooms, but he won't find me here. I just don't want to listen to another "I can do it better" lecture."

After a moment's pause, Tim admits. "He did the same to me and my team."

He means Cassie, Bart, and Conner. The little team of photography buddies Bruce introduced Tim back when they started homeschooling him. Dani suggested pulling Tim out of school is one of the best advice his clone ever gave him.

Tim took the pictures, Cassie and Conner modeled, and Bart made the clothes. Their work was slowly gaining traction online, and Tim seemed to glow whenever the Team was mentioned.

"Course he did." Danny sigh. He leans back into the pillow. "Know why he did it, too. Bruce doesn't want me to be taken advantage of, but it's hard not to hear him think I can't keep up, especially when my family is doing the same thing."

"Yeah," Tim's voice is soft. "It's frustrating that all your hard work is overshadowed or that everything you've done so far doesn't prove that you know you can."

Bingo. Danny discovered Tim's issue; now he just needs to bring it home.

"I know I'm great at what I do. You said so yourself- my past proves I am crazy good at work. I leave other people breathless in awe all the time. I can adapt and overcome so much faster than others. Bruce can see that, but he forgets to praise it." Danny huffs like he's trying not to be forgiving, and it causes a smile to unwillingly appear on Tim's face.

"I'll talk to him tomorrow but today I'm being petty and hiding. Thanks for letting me sleep here"

"You're welcome, Danny." Tim goes back to his typing, but only after a minute or two of Danny asking if he can turn off the light does the boy save his work and shut his computer down.

The room is plunged into darkness but Danny doesn't need the light to see how Tim sinks into his mattress. Tim is smart- crazy smart that every part of him that's Fenton crows with pride- and he can easily see through Danny.

"Thank you Danny" He doesn't say what for but he doesn't need to.

Danny reaches over, grabs the blankets, and makes sure they cover the small shoulder, tucking Tim in properly. "Any time kid"

The next morning, Bruce wakes them up with a powerpoint of all the things he thought were impressive about Tim and his team's last photo session. A powerpoint for Pete's sake.

But it makes Tim smile so much that Danny lets it slide. At least he listened when Danny chewed him out for forgetting to praise Tim.

Alfred offers Danny some of his private tea jars, which according to Dick, means Danny is in for life as Tim, Jason, and Bruce go over the PowerPoint again. Jason has begone to heal for his bitch of a mother's betrayal a few months ago.

Thankfully, Danny was in the area when he called and reminded the lady why she should not mess with Bruce's kids. Dani paying her a visit in her jail cell was just the Fentons' sending their regards.

(His dad gave Dani the ani-creep stick, and his mom hacked the cameras to loop. Jazz just watched hours of her to realize what made the woman scream and cry before sending the clone on her way. It was a good family bonding moment)

No one believed the woman claiming to be haunted that her son was Robin. Honestly, where on earth she got that idea Danny would never know.

His Jason, the sweet school-loving boy who graduated as valedictorian, running around punching criminals? Honestly, what was she going to claim next?

Bruce being Batman?!

Please.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #freelance inventor #part 2 #spirit halloween #Danny being a dad for the three first robins #Bruce not understanding emotions #And the kids not understanding their own emotions #Jazz trained her brother well #Fenton's are crazy and Super smart #They are aware of Danny's Not-Boyfriend and his kids #They love them

[mirohlayo]

Hi, can I request a Reader x F1 grid story where reader breaks her arm/leg and she can't race because of it, but she still attends the races to watch with her team? And then the drivers start to draw on her cast as a feel better soon gesture.

Maybe she also posts it on her social media throughout the day to show fans the progress of the drawings.

Thank you so much xxx

P.S. Love you writing

Hi !! So as you requested I used the F1 grid, but only the drivers who I write for originally (+ Albon). I also wrote reader as a F1 Academy driver to make it more easy to write and more realistic. It's the first time I write something like this, so hope you'll enjoy it girll !! ᥫ᭡

DRAWINGS ON MY BROKEN ARM

( because maybe you just need some love from your handsome friends. )

warning : none just a broken arm, a cast and fluff

note : I really struggled a lot to find some good cast pictures, these ones are a bit awful lmaoo sorry

word count : 1.3k

It was not planned. This was absolutely not what was planned.

As you get out of the car with difficulty, greeting pleasantly the driver who kindly accompanied you to the Suzuka circuit, you try as best you can not to move your arm too much. If you make unnecessary efforts you will tire yourself out for nothing.

You absolutely did not choose to break your arm. It was due to a mistake, a very big mistake indeed. While you were testing your car during free practice, during a session where the falling rain flooded the track with water, your tires did not grip effectively and you found yourself thrown against the wall, in a fairly serious crash. surprising.

The teams immediately helped you, and while everyone was asking you if you were okay after this crash, that's when you realized a big problem: yes, you were okay, but not your arm. . And after a short stay in the hospital, you now find yourself - or rather your arm - stuck in an amazing cast.

You obviously cannot participate in the next F1 Academy races. But you can, however, do something else that is much more energetic and beneficial for you in the state you are in: attend the F1 race which is currently taking place in Japan.

After all, being locked up for almost a week in your apartment was totally boring and you really need a little fresh air, and above all the passion for this sport to stimulate. Being a very close friend of certain drivers, you did not hesitate for a single second to accept your team's proposal when they offered to accompany you to the Suzuka GP.

Now there you are in the paddock, trying to slip through the others to get to the Mercedes garage. There where you find Georges, who smiles with all his teeth at the sight of you.

“Hello you” He walks over to you and starts to wrap his arms around you in order to give you a hug, but a reflex immediately makes him step back. “Oh sorry, I forgot you have a... little problem” He struggles to finish his sentence, grimacing at the sight of your wrapped arm in a cast.

You giggle before patting his shoulder. "Are you better since your crash? I saw that a few days ago and I was really scared for you." His eyes scan you, he is worried about you. You smile softly at him to reassure him. "Don't worry. I may have a broken arm but that won't stop me from supporting you in this race."

“Oh, Y/n!” Lewis' voice calls out to you, and you turn to face him, Charles next to him. They both smile at you, taking care not to touch your arm so as not to hurt you further. "I'm so sorry about your crash. You must definitely be disappointed." Lewis affectionately caresses your shoulder, a show of affection and support.

"At least you're alive, that's the main thing. It's good to see you here, the other guys miss you you know." Charles explains the situation, telling you how worried and scared the pilots were following your accident. You also received several messages from them on instagram, in which they supported you and showered you with kind words.

“Y/NNN!!” Daniel screams your name from afar, a big smile on his face as he almost throws himself at you. “Hey watch out for his arm.” Lewis alerts Daniel so he doesn't hurt you, but he doesn't seem to hear anything and comes to take you in his arms. “Daniel, I’ll go back to the hospital if you continue.” He finally pulls away, carefully observing your cast.

“Maybe I should call the others, they’ll be happy to see you.” Charles volunteers to bring the other drivers back, while you chat with your friends. They are all very respectful and very attentive, they are sincerely empathetic towards you.

In the distance, you finally see the rest of the boys arriving.

“Here’s my girl.” Lando comes to wrap his arm around your shoulders, a smirk present on his lips. You push him away, grimacing to tease him, and he holds his heart as if you had just broken it into a thousand pieces. "I know I shouldn't have sent you that 'get well soon' with a red heart on Instagram, hypocrite." He pretends to roll his eyes but his smile betrays him.

"Indeed, you shouldn't have. Your teammate was the first to message me and that's why he's my favorite boy today." Oscar tssk while crossing his arms, however amused by the situation. Max, Carlos and Alex are discreetly added to the group that has just formed around you.

“Even with a broken arm, you can do a lot of things you know.” Max told you in a confident manner. “Like Lance last year.” Carlos chuckled at Lando, both nodding at the same time because they thought the same thing. You can't help but feel alive again.

It's true that the last few days were difficult. Alone, injured and locked in your apartment, you no longer had much of a taste for life. You kept asking yourself questions about your future, about the rest of the races of the year. You were also worried. But you knew that coming here, being surrounded by your closest friends again, laughing and talking with them, was all you needed. You can only be grateful to them.

“I have an idea guys!” Alex then exclaims, drawing attention to himself. “Since Y/n is injured, and her cast is… white and bland, we should draw to give her courage.” He said while pointing at your cast. The other drivers nod, agreeing with the Williams driver's idea.

“I will have the honor of drawing first!” Then begins George, who is already ready to fight to have his drawing on your cast. "She wants a drawing of her favorite driver which is me. Too bad for you, George." Lando, and his sassy attitude, is ahead of the Mercedes driver. “I bet I draw better than all of you so let me do it.” Carlos steps forward to assert himself.

They seem to be on the verge of fighting over who will have the honor of drawing best, or who will draw first. You laugh while calming the situation. "Look, you're all going to be able to draw. We just need some markers." You remark, as you wave to your team in the distance to help you.

It doesn't take long before they arrive with a small pencil case filled with different colored markers. You then sit on a chair in a corner of the garage, the nine drivers around you. Oscar is the first to draw on your cast, while the others are still fighting over who will go second.

In the end, after a good session of laughter and slightly failed drawings, the result is there. Your plaster is decorated with designs, each one as extravagant as the last, but that doesn't matter, because their intention comes from the heart. This sincere gesture will certainly give you courage for the rest of your adventure, you are sure of it.

And as they all give you one last smile, one last hug, they leave to prepare for the approaching race. You end up joining your team further in the VIP stands, ready for the start of the race. “What a beautiful cast” Your engineer nods at the magnificent designs on your arm, and you smile. “Beautiful may not be the word, but it’s very precious to me for sure.”

And as you share a laugh, the red lights go out, as the din of cars echoes throughout the circuit. For a moment, everything seems wonderful. It's crazy how a simple little attention like drawings can brighten up your day a little more. And can also brighten up the day of others, like those of your fans for example...

yourusername just posted !

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and others...

yourusername: maybe no more arm but at least I have my handsome boyys ❤️

view comments

danielricciardo: if anyone wonders who drew the beautiful star, it’s me ✌️😁

⤷ landonorris: you wrote on her arm instead of her cast you dickhead

⤷ danielricciardo: I was feeling different 😜

user: Alex just writing his name makes absolutely sense

user: no cuz they're literally the SWEETEST ahww

⤷ yourusername: only oscar cuz he's the one who drew the best

⤷ danielricciardo: but you said it was me earlier

⤷ yourusername: i lied plus you literally drew on my SKIN instead of my cast 😠

landonorris: my girl not giving any credits to my amazing beautiful drawing 💔

⤷ yourusername: yeah cuz you have no talent, keep it up it's awful mate 🔥🔥

⤷ landonorris: hypocrite I hate you

charles_leclerc: take care of yourself y/n ❤️

georgerussell63: I slayed, my drawing is lit

⤷ yourusername: no 🙄🥱

user: i need friends as precious as them, love their friendship !!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 grid x reader #f1 x you #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russel x reader #daniel riccardo x reader #max verstappen x reader #alex albon x reader