slipped away from the noise for a bit… just the sea, a quiet sunset, and something I won’t name..didn't realize how much I needed the stillness until a hand found mine and everything softened. the waves kept doing their thing, the sky kept changing colors, but somewhere in between, time felt slower… lighter
we didn’t need much..just a blanket, a game we barely focused on, and a moment that didn’t ask for anything more
some things are better left unsaid… I think I'll let the ocean keep this one 🌊✨
synopsis. He's been gone for weeks. Missions, meetings, responsibilities — always something. You miss him. He misses you. And then one Saturday, you come home to find a dress you've never seen before, and a man who's been trying to find his way back to you.
series. part 7 of "Satoru as Your Boyfriend" series!! all parts will be found here!
word count. 2.2k+
A/N. this is a sequel to "i'll find you (i always will)" — part of the "Satoru as Your Boyfriend" series!! he's been trying. he's been working on himself. and now he's surprising her with a dress and a beach date. soft, fresh, and full of love!! 🫶 this was requested by @uiuiuaa!! <3
The apartment was too quiet.
Not in a sad way. Just... quiet. The kind of quiet that made you notice how loud he usually was — his humming in the kitchen, his commentary during movies, his laughter echoing off the walls.
He'd been gone for seventeen days.
Seventeen days of texting "good morning" and "good night" and "i miss you, sweetheart" with no one to say it to in person. Seventeen days of sleeping diagonally across the bed just because you could. Seventeen days of coming home to an empty apartment that felt less like home without him in it.
You missed him.
You really, really missed him.
Today was Saturday. You'd worked late, grabbed takeout on the way home, and trudged up the stairs with your bag dragging on your shoulder. The plan was simple: eat, shower, sleep, repeat.
You unlocked the door.
The apartment was dark. The curtains were still drawn from last night. The TV was off. Everything was exactly where you'd left it.
Except for the box on the coffee table.
You stopped.
It was a gift box — cream-colored, tied with a silk ribbon the color of the sky at dawn. No note. No tag. Just... sitting there.
You looked around. Still dark. Still quiet.
"Satoru?" you called out.
No answer.
You walked toward the box slowly, like it might disappear if you moved too fast.
You untied the ribbon.
The paper inside was soft, crinkling as you pushed it aside. And then you saw it.
A dress.
The dress.
The one you'd pointed at in a store window three months ago. The one you'd said "maybe someday" about, your voice small because you knew it was too expensive, too impractical, too much. The one Satoru had tugged you away from with a grin and a "come on, sweetheart, let's keep walking."
But he'd looked back at the window. You'd seen him.
And now the dress was here.
You pulled it out of the box, holding it up to the light. It was even prettier than you remembered — soft fabric, delicate straps, the kind of dress that made you feel like a main character in a movie.
Your heart was pounding.
"Satoru?" you said again.
Still no answer.
And then — arms wrapped around your waist from behind.
You yelped.
He laughed — that bright, beautiful sound you'd been missing for seventeen days — and pulled you against his chest.
"Hey, sweetheart."
"SATORU."
"Hey."
"You scared me."
"I know." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "I'm sorry."
"You're supposed to be on a mission."
"I finished early."
"You finished early?"
"I've been trying to get back to you for days." He turned you around to face him. His hair was messier than usual. His rectangular glasses were slightly crooked. There were dark circles under his eyes. He was wearing the button-up you liked — the one that made him look soft and warm.
"You look exhausted," you said.
"I've been traveling."
"You look beautiful," you said.
His ears turned pink. "That's supposed to be my line."
"I'm saying it anyway."
He grinned — tired but real.
"I missed you," he said.
The words hit you right in the chest.
"I missed you too," you whispered.
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.
"I brought you a dress," he said.
"I see that."
"And reservations. Or no reservations — we can just go. There's a beach. And a sunset. And I thought —" He stopped. Swallowed. "I thought maybe we could have tonight."
"Just tonight?"
He shook his head. "Tonight and tomorrow. And the day after. And the day after that. I'm not going anywhere for a while."
You looked at the dress in your hands. Then at him.
"You bought me a dress," you said.
"I did."
"And you planned a beach date."
"I did."
"And you finished your mission early just to surprise me."
"I did."
"You're ridiculous."
He grinned. "And yet, here you are."
Your heart did a little flip.
"Help me put it on," you said.
He kissed your forehead.
"Okay, sweetheart."
The beach was empty.
Not just any beach. The beach. The one you'd come to months ago, for the sunrise. The one where he'd taken your picture, where you'd eaten breakfast on a towel, where he'd held your hand and promised to love you forever.
He'd brought you back.
"You remembered," you said.
He smiled. "Of course I did. It's your favorite."
"How do you know?"
"Because you talk in your sleep."
"I do not—"
"You said 'the beach was pretty' three times."
You stared at him. "That's creepy."
"That's attentive. There's a difference."
The sun was low on the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink and orange. The waves were gentle, lapping at the shore. The sand was cool beneath your bare feet.
You were wearing the dress.
He was wearing a smile.
He'd held your hand the whole drive here, his thumb tracing circles on your palm, his eyes flicking to you every few seconds like he couldn't believe you were real.
"You're staring," you said.
"I'm looking."
"What's the difference?"
"The difference is," he said, "I'm not just looking at you. I'm memorizing you."
"You're so cheesy."
"You love it."
"I love you."
He stopped walking.
The waves washed over his feet. He didn't seem to notice.
"Say that again," he said.
"I love you, Satoru."
He pulled you into his arms.
"I've been waiting seventeen days to hear that," he whispered into your hair.
"You heard it every night on the phone."
"It's not the same."
"How is it different?"
He pulled back just enough to look at you.
"Because now I can do this."
He kissed you.
Not rushed. Not desperate. Slow and soft and full of everything he couldn't say over the phone — the I miss you's, the I'm sorry's, the I love you's. His hands cupped your face. Your fingers fisted in his shirt.
When he finally pulled back, he was smiling.
"Okay," he said. "Now we can watch the sunset."
"You interrupted the sunset for that?"
"It was worth it."
The sun had dipped below the horizon, leaving behind a sky of deep blues and purples. The first stars were just starting to appear. The waves were gentle, and the sand was cool beneath your feet.
Satoru was still sitting on the picnic blanket, watching you with soft eyes.
"You're staring again," you said.
"I'm admiring."
"That's the same thing."
"It's not."
You grinned. Then, without warning, you reached down, tapped his shoulder, and took off running.
"TAG, YOU'RE IT!"
He blinked. "What—"
You were already halfway to the water, your bare feet kicking up sand, the dress billowing behind you. His laugh echoed across the beach.
"SWEETHEART!"
"CATCH ME IF YOU CAN!!"
He scrambled to his feet, nearly tripping over the picnic blanket. "You're going to regret this!"
"I NEVER REGRET ANYTHING!"
He was faster than you. Obviously. He was Gojo Satoru. But you had a head start, and you were determined.
You ran along the shoreline, the waves washing over your ankles, your laughter mixing with his. The stars were coming out. The wind was in your hair. And behind you, he was gaining.
"SATORU, NO—"
"YES—"
He caught you around the waist, spinning you around once before pulling you against his chest. You were both breathless, both laughing, both grinning like fools.
"Caught you," he said.
"You cheated."
"I didn't cheat."
"You're literally the strongest sorcerer in the world."
"That's not cheating. That's genetics."
"That's not how genetics work."
He dipped you low, his face inches from yours.
"I caught you," he said again, softer this time.
"You did," you admitted.
He kissed you.
The waves washed over your feet. The stars watched from above. And somewhere behind you, the picnic blanket sat forgotten in the sand.
When he pulled back, he was smiling.
"Best game of tag ever," he said.
"You've only played one game today."
"Doesn't matter. Still the best."
You laughed, and he set you back on your feet, keeping one arm around your waist.
After the tag game, you were both breathless and grinning. Satoru had somehow produced a polaroid camera from the picnic basket — because of course he had.
"You brought a camera?" you asked.
"I brought the camera." He held it up, turning it over in his hands. "I wanted to remember tonight."
"It's just a beach date."
"It's our beach date." He looked at you. "The first of many."
Your heart did a little flip.
"Come here," he said, holding the camera out at arm's length. "Smile."
You leaned into him, your head on his shoulder, your hand on his chest.
"Wait," you said.
"What?"
"Let me whisper something to you first."
He raised an eyebrow but lowered the camera. "Okay?"
You leaned up, your lips brushing his ear.
"I'm really, really happy right now," you whispered.
He went still.
"I've missed this," you continued, soft. "I've missed you. And tonight... you've made me feel like the luckiest person in the world."
He didn't move.
"Satoru?"
He pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes were bright. His ears were pink.
"You can't just say things like that," he said, his voice a little unsteady.
"Why not?"
"Because—" He swallowed. "Because now I'm going to be thinking about it for the next week."
"Good."
He stared at you. Then he shook his head, laughing softly.
"You're going to be the death of me."
"Probably."
He kissed your forehead.
"Okay," he said, holding up the camera again. "Now smile. For real this time."
You smiled.
He pressed the button.
The camera whirred, spitting out a small white square. He caught it, watching as the colors slowly bled into focus — the blue of the sky, the gold of the sunset, the soft pink of your dress. Your head on his shoulder. His arm around your waist. Both of you grinning like idiots.
He stared at it for a long moment.
"What?" you asked.
"Nothing." His voice was soft. "Just... looking."
"At what?"
"At us."
You looked at the photo. At the two of you, frozen in a moment of pure happiness.
"Keep it," you said.
"I was going to."
"On your nightstand?"
"In my pocket." He slipped it carefully into his chest pocket, right over his heart. "So I can look at it whenever I miss you."
"You're going to miss me when I'm right here?"
"All the time."
You laughed, and he pulled you into his arms.
"Okay," he said. "Now let's eat. I'm starving."
"You already said that."
"I'm saying it again."
He'd packed a picnic.
You sat on a blanket in the sand, watching the stars appear one by one. The food was simple — bread and cheese and fruit, the kind of picnic you'd talked about having "someday."
"You remembered," you said.
"I remember everything." He handed you a strawberry. "You said you wanted to do this. Months ago. After that movie we watched."
"The one with the picnic scene?"
"That's the one."
"You were half asleep during that movie."
"I was resting my eyes."
"You were snoring."
"I was meditating."
You laughed, and his whole face lit up.
"There she is," he said softly.
"There who is?"
"My girl. The one I've been missing."
Your heart swelled.
"I'm right here," you said.
"I know." He reached over and took your hand. "I'm not letting go."
"Not even for more strawberries?"
He looked down at the strawberries. Then at your hand. Then back at the strawberries.
"...I'll let go for strawberries. But only for a second."
"You're ridiculous."
"You love me."
"I do."
He squeezed your hand.
"I missed you," he said again.
"I know."
"I'm going to make it up to you."
"You don't have to."
"I want to." He looked at the ocean. "I want to be here more. I want to wake up next to you. I want to make you coffee and burn the toast and listen to you laugh at me."
"I don't laugh at you."
"You do. I love it."
You leaned your head on his shoulder.
"Just come home," you said. "That's all I want."
He pressed a kiss to your hair.
"Okay, sweetheart."
You fell asleep in the car.
When you woke up, you were in your driveway. The engine was off. Satoru was watching you, his head resting on his hand, his eyes soft.
"Hey, sleepyhead," he said.
"Hey."
"You drooled."
"I did not."
He showed you the polaroid. You had, in fact, drooled.
"...Get rid of that."
"Never."
"Satoru."
"This is blackmail material. I'm keeping it forever."
You groaned, covering your face with your hands. He laughed — that bright, beautiful sound — and leaned over to kiss your cheek.
"I love you," he said.
"I know."
"Say it back."
"I love you too."
He smiled.
"Let's go inside," he said. "I want to sleep in my own bed."
"Our bed."
"Our bed."
He took your hand and led you inside.
You woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains.
Satoru was still asleep beside you — his face soft, his hair messy, his hand still wrapped around yours. The dress was hanging on the closet door. The picnic blanket was folded on the chair.
He stirred, pulling you closer without waking up, his arm tightening around your waist.
You smiled.
"Hey," you whispered.
He mumbled something unintelligible.
"I love you," you said.
He pulled you closer.
You stayed there, wrapped in each other, until the sun rose higher and the world woke up around you.
He was home.
Finally.
A/N. i beg u to PLEASE ignore any grammatical errors, i wrote this at 1am so i'm pretty sure i'm going insane 😭
Plagiarism not authorized. Do not feed my work to AI. Feel free to req!! <3
hello there! would you write a romantic getaway after tour for piwon? like a trip to bali, maldives, hawaii with a private beach where oc can get tanned in their bikini while they play around and skinny dip yk and under a waterfall or something they become oc’s personal photographer(as they should) and at night they go to romantic dinner while piwon looks scrumptious w a white button up and oc with a sundress like summer themed imagine cause i can’t move on from summer yet sigh 🌊👙☀️
pairing: p1Harmony x reader!
warnings: Summer (I hate Summer hahaha), fluff, cheesy moments, Jongseob being hot af
disclaimer: not my pic
Keeho
The air smelled like green things and sunlight—fresh moss, wet leaves, and a hint of wildflowers. The two of you had been hiking all morning, boots crunching through soft soil, hands brushing now and then as the path narrowed. The forest sang quietly around you—birds, wind, and the distant rush of water that promised a break.
When you finally reached the waterfall, it was like stepping into a painting. Water spilled from a mossy cliff into a small, glassy lake, mist curling through the sunlight. You dropped your backpack and crouched by the edge, peering into the clear water where tiny fish flickered like bits of silver light.
“Look how fast they move in the water,” you murmured, leaning closer.
Behind you, Keeho laughed softly, breath still uneven from the hike. “Yeah, I can see why they call them fish and not wait-around-and-pose.”
You didn’t look up, too focused on how the fish darted between shadows. You didn’t see him pull out his phone. Didn’t notice the soft click of the camera. He tilted his head a little, eyes following the curve of your smile, the way your hair fell forward as you leaned in. Every time he pressed the button, the sound felt like a heartbeat—quick, steady, secret.
When you finally turned around, catching him mid-shot, your eyes widened. “Keeho!”
He froze for half a second, then grinned, mischievous and unapologetic. “What?”
“You’re taking pictures of me?”
“Guilty.” He lifted his phone slightly, like the evidence was worth showing off.
“You could’ve told me,” you said, crossing your arms, though your voice softened at the edges.
He shrugged, that grin still tugging at his mouth. “You’re beautiful when you’re not posing. It’d ruin the moment if I warned you.”
Your face warmed instantly, the heat rising faster than the afternoon sun. “That’s—You can’t just—”
He laughed, stepping closer. “I can’t what? Tell the truth?”
You rolled your eyes, trying to turn back toward the lake to hide your smile. “I hate you”
“No you don't,” he said, voice light. “And I’ve got great taste.”
You tried to ignore him, focusing again on the fish. The water rippled gently, sunlight turning it into a sheet of liquid glass. Keeho stayed quiet for a moment, watching you through the viewfinder, his grin softening into something slower, steadier. You felt the weight of his gaze even before you heard another soft click.
“And what are you doing now?” you asked, glancing at him.
“Documenting my favorite part of the trip,” he said easily. “You.”
You groaned. “Gosh it's so cheesy.”
“Yeah,” he agreed. “But it’s true.”
Then, without warning, he leaned forward. His hand brushed lightly against your cheek, fingers catching a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your face. He tucked it gently behind your ear, and for a moment, everything—the birds, the waterfall, the world—went quiet.
He bit his lip slightly, eyes lingering on you like he was memorizing the sight. You couldn’t move. You didn’t want to.
“Perfect,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to lift his phone again.
You laughed softly, shaking your head, but stayed still this time. “You’re seriously still taking pictures?”
Keeho smiled behind the camera, eyes glinting. “Yeah. So don’t move.”
The shutter clicked again. And again. Between the bursts of sound and sunlight, you felt something tender and unspoken humming between you—the kind of warmth that didn’t need to be said, only felt.
And maybe it was the waterfall, or the summer air, or the way he looked at you like you were something worth keeping—but for the first time, you didn’t mind being caught in the frame.
Theo
The room smelled faintly of salt and something floral—fresh linens, maybe, or the faint perfume of the sea drifting in through the balcony doors. You and Theo stood in the doorway, bags dropped at your feet, the hum of the hallway fading behind you.
The air conditioner sighed softly, brushing cool air across your overheated skin. You exhaled, every muscle in your body begging for mercy. The long flight, the drive, the heavy heat—it had all melted into a single thought: finally.
The first thing you noticed was the bed—huge, white, and impossibly inviting. Then, on the side table, a silver bucket with a champagne bottle buried in ice, and a box of glossy, dark chocolates tied with a satin ribbon.
You blinked. “Did you tell them to do all this?”
Theo shook his head, dropping his cap on a chair and running a hand through his hair. “Nope. Maybe they just sensed our good taste.”
You smiled faintly, then gave up on standing altogether. The bed practically swallowed you when you fell onto it, the mattress soft enough to erase the entire journey from your body. You closed your eyes, spread out like a starfish, and sighed. “Okay, vacation officially started.”
From somewhere behind you came a sudden pop!
You jumped a little, sitting halfway up. “Theo!”
He looked far too pleased with himself, holding the champagne bottle like a trophy, a crooked grin on his face. Tiny bubbles frothed at the mouth of the bottle as he wiped his hand on a towel.
You raised an eyebrow, grinning. “Isn’t it a little early for champagne?”
He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “Early? We crossed three time zones. It’s evening somewhere.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s not how it works.”
He shrugged, already pouring the pale gold liquid into a glass. “Who cares? We’re on vacation. That means we get to do whatever we want.”
You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him move around the room—the sunlight catching in his hair, the easy way he smiled, the comfortable quiet between you.
He walked over, holding out the glass like an offering. “Here. For surviving the journey.”
You took it, the chill of the glass pleasant against your fingers. “Thanks.”
Theo sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, close enough that your knees brushed. He leaned back on one hand, his shirt slightly rumpled, his eyes softer than the light spilling through the curtains.
“See?” he said, voice low. “Already better.”
You laughed quietly, taking a sip. The champagne tickled your tongue—crisp, light, a little sweet. “You might be right.”
“Of course I am,” he said, smiling like it was the easiest truth in the world. Then, before you could respond, he leaned in and kissed you—slow, unhurried, like the first taste of a long summer night.
When he pulled back, his voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m going to make sure this trip is unforgettable.”
You met his eyes, warmth spreading through your chest. “Big promise.”
He smiled again, brushing his thumb lightly across your cheek. “Then I’d better keep it.”
Outside, waves murmured against the shore, the sound blending with your laughter. The champagne glass glinted on the nightstand, and for the first time all day, you felt completely at ease—like the world had tilted just right.
Jiung
The beach at night looked like another world—silver light spilling across the sand, the ocean whispering things you couldn’t quite catch. The two of you walked barefoot, shoes dangling from your hands, the air cool and heavy with the smell of salt.
Jiung’s voice was soft when he spoke, barely loud enough to compete with the sound of the waves. “It’s kind of perfect, isn’t it?”
You smiled. “Yeah. Feels like the world’s asleep except for us.”
The moon hung low over the horizon, painting a ribbon of light over the water. You stood there for a while, just watching it move, the tide kissing your feet before slipping away again. Then, on a sudden impulse, you stepped back, grinning.
“What?” Jiung asked, his brow furrowing as you slipped your dress over your head, leaving yourself in nothing but the ocean breeze and the silver shimmer of moonlight. You tossed the fabric and your sandals at him.
“Hey!” he yelped, catching them clumsily. “What are you doing?”
You laughed, taking a few steps backward toward the water. “What’s the matter? Scared of a little skin?”
His mouth curved into that slow, crooked grin that always made your pulse trip. He looked around the beach—empty except for the two of you—and shook his head with a disbelieving chuckle. “You’re crazy.”
“You love it,” you said, voice light and teasing.
He hesitated only a second longer before pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it beside your clothes. “If we get caught, I’m blaming you,” he said, his laughter mixing with the sound of the surf.
“Fair enough,” you called back, stepping into the water. It was cool against your skin, the chill curling up your spine in a shiver that felt alive, electric. You dove in until the waves reached your shoulders, then turned to see him wading in after you, the moonlight catching on his skin, his hair damp and wild.
“You’re actually doing it!” you said, laughing.
“You think I’d let you have all the fun?”
He reached you, the water swirling between you, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. The world was just waves, moonlight, and the quiet thud of your hearts.
When he finally touched your face, it was gentle—just his fingertips tracing the outline of your jaw. His breath brushed against your cheek before his lips found yours. The kiss was soft, deepened by the salt air and the sound of the sea folding over itself.
You broke apart just enough to look up. The moon hung perfectly above you both, bright and enormous, reflected in the shifting surface of the water.
Jiung’s voice came out low and warm. “I think this might be my favorite kind of crazy.”
You smiled, leaning into him. “Told you it’d be worth it.”
He laughed quietly, forehead resting against yours. “You always are.”
The waves rolled in again, cool and endless, wrapping around you both as the night held its breath—two hearts, one ocean, and a moon that seemed to shine just for you.
Intak
Steam curled lazily into the evening air, carrying the scent of lavender bath salts and warm water. You stepped out of the bathroom wrapped in one of the hotel’s plush robes, your hair still damp, your skin tingling from the shower.
“They’ve got everything in there,” you called out, still half in disbelief. “Mini lotions, bath bombs, soaps shaped like seashells—this place is so boujee.”
You turned toward the balcony, still talking, but your words trailed off when you saw him.
Intak was lounging in the bubbling Jacuzzi, one arm draped along the edge, the lights from the city below reflecting in the water. The steam ghosted around him like something cinematic, his hair damp and pushed back, a teasing grin tugging at his mouth.
You froze in the doorway, grin spreading across your face. “Well, look at you.”
He raised an eyebrow, the grin deepening. “What? Can’t a man enjoy a little luxury?”
“Without me?” you said, crossing your arms in mock offense.
He tilted his head toward the open spot beside him, water glistening across his shoulders. “You gonna stand there giving a speech or are you joining me?”
You didn’t need to be asked twice. The robe slipped off your shoulders and you stepped carefully into the hot water, sighing as the warmth soaked through every inch of you.
“Okay,” you admitted, settling beside him. “This is heaven.”
“Told you,” he said, immediately sliding closer until your legs brushed under the water. His arm came around your waist, tugging you gently against him. You could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, warm and sure beneath your hand.
For a moment, the world felt small and perfect—the soft hum of the jets, the whisper of waves far below, the faint chill of night air against your wet skin. The stars scattered above like they’d come out just to eavesdrop.
Then he leaned in.
The first kiss was slow, deliberate, full of that lazy confidence that was all Intak. His hand found your jaw, thumb tracing your cheek, and you melted into him before you even thought to breathe. The warmth of the water and the press of his lips blurred together, dizzying and sweet.
When he finally pulled back, you blinked at him, dazed. “You’re so cheesy,” you said, though your voice came out softer than you meant it to.
He just laughed quietly, eyes still on you. “You love it.”
“Do I?”
He grinned wider, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “If you didn’t, you wouldn’t still be here.”
You scoffed, but your hand slid over his anyway, fingers intertwining under the water. The jets bubbled around you, the world humming with the sound of warm water and distant ocean breeze.
He leaned his head against yours, voice dropping to a murmur. “This is pretty perfect, huh?”
You smiled, closing your eyes. “Yeah. I guess boujee has its perks.”
He chuckled, pressing another kiss to your temple. “See? Told you. You and me—we make luxury look easy.”
The night stretched on, soft and golden and alive, the two of you lost somewhere between laughter and heat and the sound of waves far below.
Soul
The restaurant looked like it had been plucked straight out of a dream—soft golden lights swaying above linen-draped tables, the hush of the ocean just beyond the open terrace, and the faint shimmer of candlelight catching on glass and silver. You tugged at the hem of your sundress, glancing around with a grin.
“This place is so fancy,” you said under your breath. “Definitely not the corner ramen shop back home.”
Soul let out a quiet laugh, his gaze sweeping over the restaurant. “Yeah. The chopsticks here probably cost more than my sneakers.”
You giggled as the waiter led you both to a table near the railing, close enough to hear the rhythm of the waves. You sat down across from each other, menus in hand, trying to look calm while your eyes darted over the glossy pages.
“Okay,” you whispered, leaning closer, “what even is half of this stuff? Foie gras? Truffle foam? Do people actually eat foam?”
Soul raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Apparently, people pay extra to eat foam.”
You both snorted, trying to keep your laughter quiet enough not to draw stares. But as the initial amusement faded, Soul’s expression softened. He looked at you over the top of his menu for a long moment before gently placing it aside.
“Hey,” he said quietly, reaching across the table. His fingers brushed against yours before settling over your hand. “You know what? You deserve this.”
You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
He gave a small, almost shy smile. “Our life back home—it’s messy. Busy. Half the time, we’re eating takeout on the floor surrounded by laundry. You’re always running around, taking care of everything, never really stopping.” His thumb traced slow circles against your skin. “You deserve to be spoiled a little. To sit somewhere nice. To just… breathe.”
Your chest tightened in the best way—like your heart had been caught mid-step. “You’re gonna make me cry,” you said with a watery laugh.
“Then I’ll tell a bad joke to balance it out,” he teased, but his tone stayed soft.
You squeezed his hand. “I can’t believe you brought me somewhere this fancy just to say something like that.”
He tilted his head, eyes glinting in the candlelight. “Actually, I was thinking…” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Maybe we should just embrace it. Tonight, we’re one of those couples. You know, the super boujee ones we always make fun of.”
You laughed, delighted. “You mean the ones who talk about ‘notes of oak’ in their wine and pretend to know what caviar tastes like?”
“Exactly.” He grinned. “We’ll nod thoughtfully and say things like ‘Mmm, exquisite flavor profile,’ and act like the bill doesn’t terrify us.”
You grinned, lifting your glass. “Then it’s settled. Tonight, we’re rich, elegant, and unbothered.”
Soul clinked his glass gently against yours, the sound crisp and bright over the low hum of conversation. “To being fake fancy,” he said, smiling so wide it made your heart ache a little.
“To being fake fancy,” you echoed, smiling back.
The night stretched around you like silk—soft laughter, the shimmer of the sea, and the glow of candlelight dancing between your joined hands. For a little while, the chaos of real life felt far away, and all that mattered was the warmth in his eyes and the easy rhythm of your laughter.
Jongseob
The market buzzed with life—bright awnings, tangled voices, the smell of grilled seafood and citrus in the air. You could almost taste summer in the sunlight. Jongseob walked beside you, his fingers laced easily through yours, the back of his hand warm against your skin.
Every few steps, you stopped to admire something new. Handmade bracelets, painted shells, baskets of mangoes so ripe they glowed in the sun.
“Look at these!” you said for what had to be the tenth time, eyes lighting up at a stand covered in tiny glass animals.
Jongseob chuckled behind you, the sound low and fond. “You really want to see everything, huh?”
“Of course! This place is amazing.” You spun once, your sundress flaring. “I feel like I’m in a movie.”
He smiled, squeezing your hand. “If this is a movie, I’m the guy carrying all your shopping bags.”
You laughed, tugging him along to the next stall—this one glittering with jewelry that caught the sunlight like spilled stars. Necklaces, bracelets, rings—each piece swaying gently in the sea breeze.
“Oh wow,” you whispered, your eyes locking on a delicate necklace with a small seashell pendant edged in silver. “That one’s perfect.”
The shopkeeper saw your interest instantly. “Ah, you have good taste!” he said with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Handmade, special material, very rare. For you, only 150 dollars.”
Your face fell a little. “Oh… that’s kind of…”
Before you could finish, Jongseob stepped closer, still holding your hand. His smile was polite—calm, but edged with quiet confidence. “It’s beautiful,” he said smoothly, glancing at you before looking back at the man. “But not that beautiful.”
The seller blinked, clearly not used to being challenged. “I assure you, this is premium—”
“Premium like the other ten identical ones behind you?” Jongseob said lightly, one brow raised. “Listen, I get it. You’ve got to make a living. But my girlfriend here…” He paused, his thumb brushing across your knuckles. “She’s beautiful enough to make that necklace worth wearing, not the other way around.”
You blinked, warmth rushing up your neck at how effortlessly charming he sounded. The seller hesitated, caught between pride and persuasion.
Jongseob smiled again, patient but firm. “We’ll take it for fifty. It’s fair. You still make money, and she walks away looking like the sea made her something special.”
The man sighed, clearly defeated. “Okay, okay, fifty.”
Jongseob nodded, handing over the cash before the seller could change his mind. He turned back to you, holding the necklace up by the chain. “Turn around.”
You did, still dazed by the way he’d just handled everything. He fastened the clasp gently behind your neck, his fingers brushing your skin. When you faced him again, he was smiling—not the cocky grin he sometimes wore, but something softer.
“Perfect,” he said simply.
You couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “You really didn’t have to do all that.”
He shrugged. “Couldn’t let someone overcharge my girl.”
The words “my girl” hit you like sunlight—warm and dizzying. And watching him stand there, confident, protective, his hair glowing in the golden light of the market… well, there was no denying it. He looked good.
Maybe too good.
“You know,” you said, trying to sound casual even as your heart raced, “you’re kind of dangerous when you get all smooth like that.”
He grinned, taking your hand again and tugging you gently down the path. “Dangerous?” he echoed, smirking. “Guess I’ll have to use that to my advantage later.”
You shook your head, laughing, but your face was warm, and your heart wouldn’t stop beating a little too fast as you walked beside him through the sunlit chaos of the market—his hand in yours, and the necklace gleaming softly against your skin.
polysho goes for a beach date!!!!! tsukasa and nene always tan beautiful, emu doesnt really get affected… but rui??? rui gets FRIED. absolutely sunburnt. do Not let that boy into the sun. the rest of wxs end up bathing him in aloe vera and forcing him to chug water
hi marie!! ok i KNOW ur kinda new here but fr i just gotta say… ur fics?? SO GOOD. like for real i fell in love w ur writing right away 😭 i love how u write diff bluelock characters too i swear i LIIIIVE for ur fics 💕💕
sooo uh i got a lil req if u don’t mind hehe 😁 was thinkin maybe u could do a series w diff bluelock boys?? idea’s kinda like:
the boys & reader goin to the beach n when reader takes off her coverup n shows a 🔥 swimsuit he just… freezes. straight up BLUSHIN so hard bc it’s the first time he’s seen her like that 😭 reader just laughs n teases him while he keeps sneakin lil glances. then later under the umbrella she’s like “hey can u put sunscreen on my back?” n she unties her top n lays down n he’s SO flustered tryna rub it in carefully. ties her back up after n they go in the water but then he sees dudes checkin her out. he gets all jealous n pulls her close, hands on her waist, hips, even taps her butt lol holdin her tight like “she’s mine.” then he sees a guy STILL starin n he glares n mouths “imma kill u” while reader’s gigglin callin him clingy n he just hugs her tighter lmaoo
i know it’s kinda long 😭😭 but i wanted 2 make it clear hehe hope u like it 🤭 ANYWAY i love ur fics so bad girl u keep SLAYIN 💋 ur fics r like comfort food fr idk how u keep doin it but not surprised tbh ur brain??? UNSTOPPABLE. every fic’s a banger don’t stop bestie 💋💋 keep killin it 💕❤️
Got me cheeseing over here omg. You don't know how much these messages mean to me, like, actually. It's ironic as a writer that I do not have the words to say how much this means to me :,) So thank you. <3 (also I love this request)
Waves and Sunscreen
Requested.
It’s the first beach day of the summer and you and your boyfriend make time to go to the beach. You take off your coverup, and suddenly your boyfriend can't look away from you.
Part 1: Isagi, Chigiri, Rin, Bachira, Kunigami, Reo, Nagi
Requests: OPEN
💙 Isagi Yoichi
When you take off your cover-up:
You’re standing near the cooler talking about which drink you want when you casually pull your cover-up over your head. Just a towel and a breath of wind, and suddenly you’re standing there in the kind of swimsuit that truly has him at a loss for words. Isagi looks up mid-sentence… and forgets what he was going to say all together. His mouth stays half open. A water bottle slips from his hand and thuds softly into the sand.
You turn around. “You okay?”
He blinks. Slowly. Then swallows hard.
“Y-Yeah,” he says. But his voice cracks, and his face goes red.
“I mean, yeah, I just—uh. You look really… really good.”
You stare for a moment before a laugh escapes your lips, already walking toward the umbrella like it’s nothing. He’s frozen in place, replaying the image in his head. You in a swimsuit? That swimsuit? He was not expecting.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You flop down on your towel and undo your bikini top like it’s no big deal.
“Can you get my back?” you ask, chin in your arms.
“Wha—now?”
You tilt your head. “Yeah, now. It’s the sunniest part of the day.”
He hesitates like he’s preparing for a high-stakes penalty kick.
Then finally kneels next to you, unscrews the bottle, and gently squirts some into his hand. Way too much btw.
You don’t say anything. You’re just waiting.
He starts rubbing it in, and it’s barely a touch. His hands are soft, hesitant, staying high up on your shoulders and only daring to smooth along your back when you exhale a little laugh.
“Relax,” you tease. "I'm not that fragile."
He mutters something under his breath. Quiet. Almost too soft to hear.
“T-That’s not what I’m worried about…”
When he ties your top back up, his hands fumble with the knot. You can feel his fingers shaking.
In the water, when guys start staring:
You’re waist-deep, hair wet, laughing as you splash him.
He’s smiling, until his eyes shift over your shoulder. Two guys standing farther down the shore. Staring. His expression changes instantly. He moves closer. One arm around your waist. Then the other. Pulls you back into him, your back against his chest.
You blink. “Yoichi?”
He doesn’t answer. Just rests his chin on your shoulder like he’s relaxing, but he’s definitely watching. When one guy won’t stop looking, Isagi narrows his eyes and mouths something that makes the guy look away real quick.
When you take off your cover-up:
He sees it happen out of the corner of his eye, just a quick movement as you pull the fabric off your shoulders. He turns his head without thinking, then stops. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t react right away. Just goes quiet. You glance over, and he’s standing there with a hand on his hip, blinking slowly, mouth pressed in a tight line.
“…What?” you ask, smirking.
“Nothing,” he says. His voice is calm, but his ears are pink.
“You look good.” He says bluntly.
He clears his throat, looks off toward the water, and pretends he’s totally unfazed. But when you walk past him to grab sunscreen, he definitely takes another look.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You stretch out on your towel and untie your top like it’s normal, and for you, it is. But for him? He hesitates for a second when you hand him the bottle.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He doesn’t answer. Just kneels beside you, pours a little lotion into his hand, and starts rubbing it in. His hands are warm. Careful. But not shy. He keeps his touch steady as well as focused, and quiet.
You glance back and see the small crease between his brows.
“Are you concentrating?”
He exhales. “Trying not to mess it up.”
When he finishes, he ties the top back without making a show of it. Doesn’t say anything extra. But you catch him stealing a look at your shoulder as you sit up, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s keeping something to himself.
In the water, when guys start staring:
At first, he doesn’t notice. He’s busy watching the waves, wiping water from his eyes, squeezing water out of his hair. But when he does catch one guy looking a little too long, and then another...He doesn’t say anything, just swims closer. His hand settles lightly on your waist. Then he moves behind you, stays close, almost casual.
You raise an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”
He nods.
“Yeah. Just staying close.”
Another guy looks again. Chigiri meets his eyes once, and doesn’t look away until the guy does. You smile, nudging his foot underwater.
“You’re not subtle.”
He glances up once. Then again. Slower the second time. You look over and catch the crease in his brow. The subtle sigh through his nose.
“That’s not the one you said you were bringing.”
You shrug. “Changed my mind.”
He looks away fast. Shakes his head.
“Tch. You could’ve said something.”
You walk past him, and he mutters something under his breath, too quiet to catch. But his ears are red, and he won’t look at you directly for a full minute.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You lie down on your towel, reach behind your neck, and untie your top without warning.
“Can you do my back?”
He sits up fast.
“Y/N, what the hell are you doing? We’re in public.”
You just glance over your shoulder. “I’m laying on my stomach. No one can see anything.”
“That’s not the point.”
He looks around like someone’s already staring, then shifts to kneel beside you, blocking the view out of instinct. You hand him the sunscreen. He takes it, muttering under his breath.
“I swear to god…”
Still, he starts rubbing it in. Quiet. Focused. His touch is a little rushed at first, like he wants this over fast, but then slows down when you relax.
You peek back at him. “You’re doing a lot for someone who just complained.”
“Yeah, well,” he mutters. “Don’t untie your top in public next time.”
When he finishes, he ties it back tight. No lingering. No teasing. Just a quick knot and then he’s tossing your towel higher over your shoulders like he’s shielding you from the world. You roll your eyes, smiling into your arms. He sits beside you, arms crossed. Still annoyed. Still red.
In the water, when guys start staring:
You’re laughing, relaxed, floating near him and he’s too busy watching the shore. He sees it happen. One guy. Then another. Next thing you know, Rin’s behind you. Hands on your hips. Calm grip, firm enough to make a point.
You turn your head. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing.” He glances at the guy again. “You’re fine right here.”
Another look. A longer one. Rin mouths something, low, short, and not even a little friendly.
You laugh under your breath. “You’re not jealous, are you?”
“No,” he says flatly. Then squeezes your waist just a little tighter.
He’s mid-frisbee throw when he glances over, just in time to catch you slipping the cover-up off your shoulders. The disc falls straight to the sand. He stares for a second too long. Eyes wide. Mouth slightly open.
“Whoa.”
You turn around. “What?”
He grins, trying to play it cool, but the flush on his face says otherwise.
“You didn’t say it was that kind of swimsuit.”
You smirk. “Does it matter?”
“No, not at all~” he says, grabbing the frisbee without breaking eye contact, still smiling and eying you down.
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You lie down, untie your top, and hand him the bottle with a casual, “Get my back?”
He blinks. Tilts his head like he didn’t hear you right.
“…Who, me?”
You raise an eyebrow.
“Okay, okay,” he grins, taking the bottle.
He kneels beside you, rubs the sunscreen into his palms, and gets to work. His touch is steady but light, not awkward, just careful. You can tell he’s being respectful, even if he keeps sneaking little glances at your expression like he’s waiting for you to call him out.
Once he’s done, he ties your top back with a gentle tug and sits back with a little nod of approval.
“Nice teamwork,” he says, brushing sand off his legs. “Next time, I get the towel spot though.”
You just smile and nudge his foot. He bumps yours right back.
In the water, when guys start staring:
At first, he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy splashing you, making dumb faces. But then he sees one guy looking for a little too long. He swims behind you fast, hands on your hips, grinning against your ear. You laugh, trying to shake him off, but he just tightens his grip. Then he looks right past you, catches the guy’s eye, and gives him the kind of smile that doesn’t look very friendly. Still soft, but sharp enough to mean something.
He’s setting up your beach chairs when he hears the soft rustle behind him. Turns around, and stops. You’re standing there, casual as ever, now in just your swimsuit. He blinks. Then quickly looks away like he didn’t just stare.
You tilt your head. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.”
But his voice is tight, and he’s suddenly a little too focused on adjusting the umbrella. You walk past him toward the towel and he glances again, just once. His ears are pink. His hands go straight into his pockets. He clears his throat.
“You look… really good.”
You look over as a smile appears on your lips.
"Thank you baby."
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You stretch out and untie your top, tossing him the bottle like you’ve done this a hundred times.
“Can you do my back?”
He catches it awkwardly.
“Right now?”
You nod. He’s already kneeling beside you before you can say anything else, trying his best to act normal. He squirts the sunscreen into his hand and rubs it in gently, quiet, calm, and way more careful than usual. You can feel him holding his breath a little.
“You okay back there?”
“Yeah,” he says quickly. “Just… being careful.”
He finishes and ties your top back with a firm tug, not letting himself say anything else. His hands linger for a second longer than needed, then he sits back, wiping his palms off.
In the water, when guys start staring:
He notices fast. You’re laughing, arms out in the waves, and he’s standing nearby until he sees a guy across the water very clearly not watching the tide. He doesn’t say anything. Just moves next to you. An arm slips around your waist. Then both. Pulls you in gently.
You blink. “Something wrong?”
“Nope,” he says, staring straight ahead. “Just stay close.”
He’s fixing the speaker, already relaxing with his sunglasses on when you call his name and toss your cover-up aside. He turns. Pauses. Smiles, slow and obvious.
“Well damn,” he says, eyes flicking up and down. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
You roll your eyes and keep walking, but he’s still looking with a giant grin, hands on his hips now, head tilted slightly.
“You wore that on purpose, huh?”
You throw him a grin over your shoulder. He just laughs and shakes his head. “Unreal.”
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You stretch out, untie your top, and hand him the bottle.
“Help me out?”
He raises an eyebrow. “You sure you trust me with this?”
“You gonna mess it up?”
“No. I’m gonna take my time.”
He kneels beside you, warms the sunscreen in his hands, and smooths it over your back with practiced ease. His fingers glide slow, not inappropriate, just confident. Like he knows what he’s doing and knows you know it, too. When he finishes, he ties your top without rushing, then leans down to whisper near your ear:
“Let me know if you ever want more help"
He teased before standing up and dusting the sand off his knees, his sunglasses still on his face. You scoff and swat at him, and he just laughs, smug, satisfied.
In the water, when guys start staring:
He’s got one arm around your waist already, pulling you in after a wave when his gaze flicks toward the shore. He sees it. That guy. Now because he has his sunglasses on, the pervert staring at you had yet to notice that Reo was staring daggers into him. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just shifts his stance, hand firm on your hip now.
You glance up. “What’s wrong?”
He nods toward the guy. “He’s been staring for a looong time." He said it playfully, but his gaze was still on the man, his body more stiff.
You raise an eyebrow. “You’re mad?"
Reo leans in, his voice low, his sunglasses falling down on his nose just enough so that you could see his eyes.
“I’ll buy the whole beach if it means they stop looking.”
You laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Rich and ridiculous,” he says, tugging you closer.
He’s laying flat under the umbrella, half-asleep, arm over his eyes.
Then you say, “Hey, toss me that towel?”
He lifts his head, and sees you standing there in your swimsuit. He blinks once. Then again.
“…Huh?”
You laugh. “What?”
He doesn’t answer. Just stares for a second longer than normal, then groans and throws the towel without aiming. It lands half on your foot.
“You said it was that one pink swimsuit." He mumbles.
You shrug. “It is.”
He sits up slowly, one hand still shielding his eyes.
“It’s not. " He groans staring at you in your blue two-piece,
"You look… crazy good. Not fair.”
Under the umbrella, when you ask him to put on sunscreen:
You lie down on your towel, untie your top, and roll the bottle over to him.
“Can you get my back?”
He sits up straighter. “Ugh… you sure?”
“You’re already awake.”
“Barely.”
Still, he drags himself over, sits beside you, and squirts the sunscreen into his palms. His touch is lazy but gentle, slow and careful, like he’s focusing way harder than he wants to admit.
“You’re so warm,” you mumble.
He mutters back, “Yeah, ’cause you’re stressing me out.”
When he finishes, he ties your top back with a loose, almost sleepy knot. Then flops onto his own towel face-down like he just ran a marathon.
In the water, when guys start staring:
You’re waist-deep, smiling, and floating next to him when he glances toward the beach and sees someone watching. He doesn’t say anything. Just moves behind you and places both hands lightly on your hips.
You turn your head. “What are you doing?”
“Gettin’ comfortable,” he mutters. But his eyes flick back to the guy, and they don’t look tired anymore.
When the guy doesn’t stop, Nagi lets out a sigh. Tightens his grip.
“Tell me when I can punch someone.”
You laugh. “You’re not punching anyone.”
“Then let me stand here.”
He stays locked on you like an anchor the rest of the swim.
