#not sure if i will come back to this because i dont have any Plot Solutions

[reborrowing]

that alien thing I was thinking about. I don't usually do epistolary writing, but this gets the point across without spilling all the alien details so I can come back tell the rest from a more normal human POV if I want to come back to it.

~550 words

cw: dehumanization, alien abduction, corporate fuckery

Trash > Observational Lab NS02 Notes!

Timestamped 683800:1101

Looks like the lab will be seeing some use sooner than we thought. Pamza had their crew charting an unoccupied system near the Eysina jump and found an active biosphere in the middle of it. A probe didn’t detect any sort of faelar or other artificial networks or anything that would suggest any kind of civilization, so they’re sending the field team to touch down and see about getting us some wildlife samples.

In the meantime, I get to recalibrate allllll our containment tanks because somehow no one anticipated the exact conditions required to house some random xeno-bugs.

Timestamped 683810:1352

So the new alien things are fuzzy and actually kind of cute! I figured the field guys would just find a couple of 'pod things, those awkward things that evolve early in a planet’s life cycle.

But I overheard someone saying the sponsor’s pleased, some of these things might even be marketable? Not my concern I guess, but the labs are full and I am busy!

Timestamped 683809:1112

Some of these species should not have been housed together. Zoc is pissed at the field guys. Me too, after spending all afternoon cleaning out that tank. These things are um, tightly packed under all that fur.

I watched Zoc do an exploratory xenonecropsy which was…not something I was expecting to get out of this apprenticeship. I don’t know how I feel about it. It’s good experience, probably? But I think I prefer to work with living things.

Timestamped 683811:1089

Some of these things are smart for their size! I guess they’re probably not small relatively and life on their planet found some way to cope with the size limitations, but it’s still weird to see. They're pretty social too. I think some of them have started recognizing different lab members. 

There’s this one that I think even likes me. It’s kind of a stabby little thing, hand-sized, fluffy. It trots right up to my hand when open the tank and climbs up to my crest to sleep while I sit down to prep instruments for later. It’s adorable. If the Sponsor does send a team back to that planet, I’ll probably buy one of my own once they’re available

Timestamped 683822:4011 [recovered file]

Something happened in the lab today. I don’t think anyone else saw. I was cycling some water for the twoleggers, one of them almost got out and—I don’t know. I don’t think basic animal intelligence would have thought to do that. But we don’t have any kind of ambassadors on board, never mind the specialists needed for first contact and translating and…oh.

I probably just misinterpreted what I saw. Maybe I just need to review my xenocognition theory. I’m wrong. I'm sure of it. I’m just an apprentice. I don't know things.

Timestamped 683822:4043 [recovered file]

I can’t remember if they monitor search queries. I bet they can do that. It’s their ship. Their tech. I tried to figure out what I'm supposed to do if I think we accidentally found alien life that's...Can they see these files? fuck.

Timestamped 683827:4121 [recovered file]

It knows. The little twolegger knows I know, it knows and I don’t know how to tell it that I can’t do anything for it without sentencing it to death. It's going to hurt itself. Or someone else is going to notice if it keeps trying to prove itself and then they'll sentence it to death.

I have to make it stop.

[antivivziepopparade]

All of the proof that we have that Vivziepop is abusive. (So far....)

While you support this post please go ahead and support my channel to see more about Vivziepop's abusive behavior. Thanks!

1. She rushes her employees.

Season 1 was made in 2020. While Season 2 was made in 2021 while being released with MULTIPLE EPISODES only ONE year later.

That's-

INSANE!

-and im about to tell you why:

The average cartoon needs almost ONE WHOLE YEAR to produce one episode. And this is what we see in MAINSTREAM shows.

Meanwhile, Helluva Boss took only one year (and a half) to make MULTIPLE ENTIRE EPISODES that last over 20 minutes. The longest waiting time for an episode being 8 months. Not even a year, and we get multiple episodes off the drawing board.

You can even see here that it's taken only three years to make 16 episodes. When this is an indie studio, so this should have taken so much longer to make. Yet for some reason, it took only a few years for us to get full seasons. In 2021, we got over 4 episodes alone. Have you ever wondered why these episodes come out so fast while other shows take a lot longer to get new seasons? That's an easy question to ask... Spindlehorse...

Is being ABUSED.

And I have the proof to show.

2. The pay controversy.

Spindlehorse's payment has been under controversy for providing the lowest pay possible to those that work at the studio.

One piece of evidence was given by Adam himself (albeit unintentionally) by saying this:

This kind of pay is highly unstable! And before you say "But he didn't force them to be there-"

LOOK.

The employees themselves admitted that they had no choice. People had no choice and Vivienne Medrano took advantage of that for her own selfish desires. This is disgusting treatment of a studio as small as Spindlehorse. Or any studio for that matter.

Hell! chaifootsteps said once that once Zeurel released that he was paying his animators too low, he deleted one of the tweets showing the low pay and decided to do something to give his employees better wages. Meanwhile, Chimera Bunny pays even less than Viv does and just because paying your workers low is normal in the animation industry- plot twist: Doesn't make it ok!

People have suffered so much in this industry, it's why "New Deal for Animation" exists. The only reason you haven't seen many Vivziepop workers having protests and speaking out is because Vivziepop says things like this behind people's backs if they "dare" do anything she doesn't like:

So that explains as to why so many people remain as "anon" or say nothing at all because they got cold feet. Vivienne's terrible!

Especially since even her top employees have admitted to not being paid enough despite Adam's "I pay them to stay if they make us the most mon-ey!" claims from the article:

Also this:

This is how she speaks about her own employees:

"YOU DONT LIKE HOW I TREAT YOU?! FUCK OFF!"

Straight up abuse.

Also, wasn't Walt Disney known for abusing his employees?

To the point where people had an entire protest in 1914 about it?

Wow... such a healthy workplace treatment comparison. Doesn't make Vivziepop look more like a jerk.... at all! /s

3. She bullies kids/laughed at a sa victim that was sa'ed by her friends. As one kid was bullied into a panic attack (I know them personally) back in about 2020 and Viv decided to vague post about them behind their back even after they apologized.

For someone who's so focused on "forgiving despite cancel culture" she sure likes to blame and harass people for disliking even ONE thing about her show or herself. One thing- and you're harassed over making a meme about a cartoon with fictional characters (What Froot Did that set Vivziepop and Gumball off.)

Secondly, one of her friends sexually harassed a minor.

And instead of acknowledging the sa, Vivziepop wrote this:

She ended up calling it a "joke" and made fun of the victim involved.

This is outright abusive behavior that should not be tolerated.

Children don't deserve to be traumatized this way. Especially over something as simple as making memes about a cartoon (negative or not) or simply telling someone to stop fetishizing abuse.

More on this in this video made by Gummypop:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND-

That's all that I have for now!

Will likely be updating this post in the future. Goodbye!

EDIT:

More evidence of Vivziepop using abusive language and slander against her employees behind their back. Claims of them being a "stalker" (like she did to Kedi and also its clear that she told her employees to say that Kaz was a "stalker" otherwise how else would they be saying these things after she fired them.) along with using abusive language such as "CUNT!" to prefer to Kaz this way in a professional setting I cannot. 💀

More evidence of Vivziepop harassing a kid:

ANOTHER edit:

More evidence, she's burning them the HELL out!

Yet ANOTHER edit:

More evidence of Spindlehorse being abusive:

EDIT:

Even MORE evidence:

The fact that the story AND the storyboards AND the animating for season one's episodes were all done in one year is just so crazy to me like... WHAT?! Either way, this post will continue to extend the more that I find evidence. So remember to look forward to that one!

EDIT:

Sadly no, as animation abuse is so common that the police dont even see it as an issue. The last time I tried to call the police on her they needed a location. The problem? There is no location of Spindlehorse since it's a "private" studio. So because of that viv gets away with abuse despite the obvious implications of her behavior and how many people came out with allegations towards her.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 31] || [Chapter 33]

Pairing: Gaz x gn!Reader || Ghost x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.3K~ cw: not angst but a bit 'angsty', fluff fluff fluff. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: This one made me all emosh to write ngl.

Chapter 32: No Harm Done.

You're sitting by the sliding glass door leading out to the balcony on Sunday morning, looking out and holding a warm drink in your hands.

It's raining outside. It's always raining in England, so it shouldn't really surprise you... but it still feels like a lazy, down-sort of day regardless.

You're home alone. Johnny went to base for P.T. and a meeting of sorts, while Kyle went out to the gym himself, giving you some time for yourself.

Your phone sits in front of you, fingers tapping away, back-and-forth, between chats with friends and with the lads, your lads.

Ghost said they'd text you to let you know when they were back, a promise they'd made after they sort of just turned up at your door all injured and hurt without warning so many weeks ago.

It feels like it's been an eternity since you had them all here.

Your eyes find your chat with Simon, flittering over the last couple of texts you sent each other. Right before the boys left on their newest mission.

Regardless of what Kyle and Johnny say about Simon, he's actually the best texter out of all of them... John being the worst.

simon: Have about 5 minutes before we have to go. you: will u be safe? simon: Always am sweetheart. simon: Don't you worry about me. you: i meant ALL of you. you: and of course i worry about u! simon: If it was about all of us, you wouldn't be messaging me separately. simon: And I appreciate it but you shouldn't. you: i hate how smart u are. you: u face death literally every day in your job simon: And I always come back. you: okay but im allowed to worry no? you: youd worry about the others too? simon: I guess so. simon: But I'll be fine. you: u dont know that. simon: I know enough. simon: Been doing this for over a decade. you: that's not reassuring the way you think it is. simon: You're very worried. Is this because of what I said?

That text makes you set down your phone when you read it again, your face warm with embarrassment at the reminder, just like it had been during that text exchange as it was happening.

He had told you he loves you. Two of them had by now.

The thought of that still makes you shiver, the words so full of emotion and vulnerability when Simon said them, never any pressure on you, just a gesture on his end.

you: maybe? simon: That's really cute of you. simon: Don't let it make you worry or overthink. simon: I'll make sure I come back to you. you: si... simon: GTG ✋ simon: Will text you when I touch down.

Kyle's, however, were a lot less vulnerable. They were sweet, sudden, driven by happiness and amusement...

Both of them came out of left field and caught you off-guard.

Both of them felt just as real, however.

You took a sip of your warm drink and glanced out of the window again, watching the droplets slide down the glass panes.

You can't help but think about how things have been going for you.

Is this becoming too much? Is it going too far? Did you finally lose the plot?

When did a silly little Tinder account you made with your friends while fighting heartbreak become a 4-way relationship and 2 out 4 men telling you they're in love with you?

You're lost in thought when the door opens behind you, Kyle making his way in.

"Hey, lovie." He greeted, causing you to jump a bit, spilling some of your drink over the glass top of the table.

"Ah, fuck." You complained as you reached for the napkin holder and started mopping up the liquid. "Hi, Ky." You added as you cleaned the mess you made.

"Sorry, did I catch you off guard?" He asked as he approached the table and began to help you.

"Yeah..." You murmured and looked up at him, finally, finding him in a grey sleeveless hoodie and black workout shorts.

You smiled softly at him as you gathered the wet napkins and moved to the kitchen to dispose of them.

Kyle seemed to catch the look in your eyes as you glanced up at him. "What's wrong? You seem strange..." He asked as you followed you into the kitchen.

"Just thinking, it's nothing." You told him as you turned after throwing out the rubbish, only to find him standing right behind you, looking at you with scrunched brows.

"Is this about yesterday?" He asked you softly. "Was it too early?" He added in earnest.

The memories of the day before come back to you sharply. The way, after he told you he loved you, you sputtered for a bit, your face burning up, your eyes wide...

And how you had come back home together, your nose still pink, his cheek still red, the both of you looking embarrassed and sheepish, avoiding eye contact and biting your lip.

How Johnny had teased the two of you, thinking you had gotten down and dirty in the car and that's why you had come home looking so embarrassed...

You look up at him with a sigh and shake your head. "No, it's just..." You trailed off.

"Was it because Soap teased us after we came back?" He reached forward and gently ran a hand over your cheek.

"No!" You added and sighed, leaning into his palm, and gently holding his forearm in your hand.

"I'm just worried... I've never... been in something like this before." You explained, as you looked into his eyes. "More than one partner and-"

Kyle nodded at you, watching you with understanding eyes and a soft gaze, like he wanted you to keep talking, communicating.

"I don't know how to act about this... I don't know..." You trailed off and looked away for a moment. "It's... a strange feeling."

"To love more than one person at once?" He asked you as his brows raised in inquiry.

You nodded in response and looked up at him. "Yeah... And to... have them love me back."

"So I wasn't the first to tell you, huh?" Kyle asked, having caught the way you mentioned 'more than one person' when it came to 'loving you back'.

Your face burned up hot in embarrassment and you shook your head at him.

"Simon was." You replied, which made Kyle's eyes widen and then a smile take over his lips as he shook his head.

"Wasn't expecting that..." Kyle admitted as he caressed your cheek again.

"Did you say it back for him? Like you did for me?" He asked and you nodded your head in reply.

"Well..." Kyle trailed off, seemingly lost in thought for a moment, as if pondering what to say, and how to say it. "It's not exactly a bad feeling, is it?"

You shook your head. It wasn't a bad feeling. In fact, you quite liked having said the words, having had the words said to you.

"Then, I'd say there's not a big cause for worry. We all knew this would happen, right?" He added. You, once again, nodded at him.

Gently, he cupped your face with both hands, his thumbs rubbing your cheeks. "Then, let's just... let it be." He chuckled.

"You and I love each other. You and Simon love each other. I love Simon too..." He admitted with a shrug. "No harm done, right?"

Smiling a bit more, you ended up nodding and gently pushed up, kissing him slowly and deeply, both of your eyes closing, his hands caressing your face, your hands caressing his forearms...

You're so into the kiss, you don't hear the front door close, nor Johnny approach, until he shows up at the kitchen door. "Greedy bastard, leave some space for the Tav, will ye?"

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling ,

@tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva ,

@emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes ,

@irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @cod-z , @frescoisnotinthemilitary ,

@leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @xxshadowbabexx , @severenswife , @enarien ,

@l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago ,

@sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki ,

@comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear ,

@mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat ,

@stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving ,

@blckbrrybasket , @agoodmoviekiss

[honeyhoshi]

scarlet, starlet pt. 1

summary: mingyu intends to make his girlfriend's wishes come true — all of them.

this a part of the man of the match universe

genre: professional football (soccer) mingyu, idol oc, porn with a little plot

wordcount: 3,251

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader

warnings: DDlg kink, d/s themes, both parties are safe, sane, and consenting adults, afab reader, lots of mentions of female anatomy, reader is implied to be significantly smaller than mingyu, making out, dry humping, finger sucking, fingering, squirting, huge mingyu, big dick gyu (canon), slight cum play, cum eating, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (pls dont do it, its not worth it), spit kink (bec i wrote it), creampie (also bec i wrote it), size kink go bbrrrr, bulge kink, dirty talk

author's notes: yet another work written for my lovely @madeforgyu! this is just part 1 of her birthday gift and is a part of the universe we have lovingly poured soooo much time and effort in. wuv u and all of that!

The excitement that comes with a new album and a comeback sometimes gets lost in just how complicated AM♡RE’s schedule has become. In between having to do pre-recording as a whole team, music shows would request certain members to be part of other variety segments which allowed other members to rest or even take on other schedules.

This led to fussy 4AM pre-recording sessions then running back to the company office to film overseas interviews and just napping during the car rides to and from one venue or another.  By the time the whole team made it back to the KBS building for the live broadcast, the only thing fueling you was adrenaline and obligation. It’s a so-so way of celebrating your twenty-fourth birthday.

You try to shake it out of your system when you think of the cute pink drink truck that was parked by the entrance to the studio that your fans were enjoying. You think it could be a lot worse because you did catch a glimpse of the many birthday ads all over Seoul as you moved from one location to another.

But still, it could be better too.

With all the last minute activities and schedules being fit into every free moment you had in the past few weeks, it had been difficult to really set any celebration plans into stone with your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

A pout makes itself present on your face the second you start thinking of him. Having Mingyu around would make everything that wasn’t ideal about your birthday just simply melt away.

At this point, a message from him would suffice. You’re no stranger to receiving and sending messages at odd times but after Mingyu’s good morning message, all your other texts had gone unread.

You’re wracking your head if he had mentioned anything scheduled today but you come up with nothing because you can clearly remember that he said he was taking the entire day off to celebrate with you.

The thought sticks even as you’re being ushered on stage and you only really snap out of it as you find yourself in front of the crowd, the rest of your members bowing and waving before you have to take your starting positions.

You shake it off, thinking instead of how you’re sure a message from Mingyu will greet you the moment you step off stage.

You’re greeted by something far better than a text message when the music cuts and you’re trying to catch your breath.

A large smile is still plastered on your face as the thrill and joy of performing courses through you. The cheers fill you with warmth and satisfaction, hoping that you had given a good performance for the live show’s crowd, but a voice cuts through the usual noise of fans.

There’s a booming voice coming from the side stage and a “That’s my girl!” that sets every nerve on your body aflame in embarrassment and pride in equal measures.

It’s your boyfriend.

It’s Mingyu.

A bright smile splits your face and you can’t help the flush that paints your face pink as the rest of your members turn to see the afternoon’s special guest. With everyone on stage giggling and whispering amongst themselves with their lapels turned away from their mouths, even the crowd was starting to realize that something out of the norm was going on.

You make your goodbyes quick, giving deep bows of appreciation, but the excitement coursing through your body can’t be contained.

Once your leader has deemed you polite enough, offering you a sympathetic smile and nodding towards the general direction of the backstage area, you can’t move fast enough.

You briskly walk towards Mingyu who, despite his effort at dressing to be discreet, is still the most eye-catching person in the room. Standing tall and proud in the hustle and bustle of the music show staff is the top scorer of the Cheongdam Diamonds, offering you the most wicked grin.

There are so many eyes around you. Looks of jealousy, resentment, and also awe are no longer strange when either you or Mingyu are in the room. Having both of you present just meant all of the above, but a hundredfold. None of that matters to you at all when you let out a squeal and jump into his arms.

You don’t care. You’ve stopped caring. Let them see.

You can no longer count how many bad ideas have become good ones when Mingyu whispers them into your ear. You can’t even remember a time you’ve said no to him and his clever ideas. Not that you ever would really, especially when Mingyu always makes it worth your time.

 It starts innocently enough, as it always does with you and Mingyu.

The second you managed to drag him into your dressing room, locking the door behind him, you had peppered his face and mouth with as many kisses as you could as he giggled and whispered birthday greetings every time your lips parted.

In no time, Mingyu had managed to wrap your legs around his waist and was guiding you as you slowly rocked your hips down onto his. The friction was so delicious even through all the layers of your stage costume but you knew that this would hardly suffice for either of you.

“I fucking hate these shorts,” Mingyu says with a grimace as his hands find their way to your ass, upset to find the layer of your safety shorts standing in his way.

Mingyu has always hated it when he would reach down and find your smooth skin covered with a seemingly offensive piece of clothing. On most days you barely wore any underwear around the house, just the way he likes it.

You love the little look of annoyance in his face and trace the lines of his eyebrows as you sit pretty on his lap, “They’re there to protect me.”

Mingyu can only snort at that.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Imagine if we stopped wearing these, then everyone would see what’s yours, Daddy.”

You feel his frown relax underneath your finger, “We can’t have that now, can we?”

“Nuh-uh,” You answer, allowing Mingyu to guide your hips. Even through the stupid safety shorts you could feel how his cock was pressing against the zipper of his jeans and Mingyu always knew how to find the cleft of your center to ensure that you were grinding your clit onto him.

“Why’s that?” He whispers against your lips, tongue flicking out to lick at your upper lip for just a split second.

You bite your tongue at the pleasure slowly building up between your legs and how he’s teasing you with his tongue, “Because this is yours.”

He makes a face of faux confusion before asking, “What exactly is mine?”

“This pussy.”

“Good girl.”

In no time, Mingyu has you strip for him and you stand before him, completely devoid of your costume. In the back of your head you can already imagine the frustration of the staff member assigned to assist you with getting fully dressed again, but the look Mingyu gives you has you pushing the thought away.

He’s sprawled on the couch as if he owned it and you’re dying to fall to your knees between his spread legs, but the second you move to do so, Mingyu grabs your wrist to stop you.

“It’s my sweet girl’s birthday today, so we’ll do all the stuff you like,” He says, standing up and crowding you against the counters littered with different makeup brushes and pots of eyeshadow and powder puffs.

“But I want to suck your cock,” You state as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mingyu chuckles and you meet his eyes. You’re entranced.

“I know you do, love. But I don’t want you to bruise your knees when I’m dressing you back in that little skirt.”

He has a point and you frown, “How about tonight?”

He smiles as he brings three fingers up to your mouth, “Okay, I’ll even let you choke on it. Now suck on Dad’s fingers, get them nice and messy.”

You immediately let your mouth fall open and start to lap at the three fingers Mingyu offers you, savoring the salt of his skin and the rough pads of his fingers. If you tried hard enough you could pretend they were his cock, hard and smooth and so so delicious. Your little daydream has you salivating in no time, coating Mingyu’s fingers and lubricating them enough for what he’s no doubt about to do to you.

“Look at that little mouth go,” He marvels, “So small, three fingers can barely fit. Are you sure you can suck my cock?”

You’re shaken from your thoughts and immediately a look of distress spreads on your face, “Yes, it can fit! I can make it fit. You’ll make it fit, won’t you?”

Mingyu’s fingers are barely out of your mouth as you try to convince him. The look on your face makes Mingyu smile. It’s horrible and mean and you love it so much.

“Yeah, I’ll make it fit. I’ll make sure my baby will take it.”

You preen at the promise and wait in anticipation as he pulls his hands away from your lips and pressing his mouth against yours.

This kiss was not exactly a typical one. Instead of pressing your lips together, Mingyu licks into your mouth, his tongue bullying its way inside and pushing your own tongue out of the way. He runs this tongue against the roof of your mouth and against your teeth until you slowly start to press your tongue against his.

You groan in relief as he finally eases up to kiss you properly but tense up when you feel one of his hands grab at your left thigh to lift it up and prop it up on the counter. This position has you spread wide open for him. He loves it when he can see all of you.

The slick that’s been gathering between your folds is surely visible in this position and it makes you clench around nothing as Mingyu pulls away to survey you in this position.

“So so pretty,” He whispers underneath his breath, not even to you, just to himself, “Going to destroy this tiny pussy.”

That’s as much warning as you get before he presses two fingers into you at once.

Mingyu is bigger than most men in all aspects. He’s tall and broad, having put in so much time to get his physique to where it is now. His sheer size followed everywhere else. His fingers were long and thick and the press of two into your core has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Whether it was his cock or his fingers, you knew to always expect a stretch. And you loved it.

“Sooo good, Daddy,” is all you can muster as Mingyu sets a punishing pace that has you trembling in his arms in no time.

Each curl of his fingers sent a jolt down your spine that had you inching closer to the edge despite how Mingyu had just started.

“My pussy is taking two fingers so well,” He says, “I think three would be even better.”

You hate that he pulls his fingers out but you’re immediately placated when he brings the two fingers to his mouth to suck your slick off of them.

He makes a noise of delight before removing his fingers and leaning down. For a second you think he’s going to eat you out but instead Mingyu spits out the saliva and slick he’s collected in his mouth and lets it drip down from your clit. 

He moves back to take in the absolutely debauched state of your pussy, smiling to himself, pleased at how messy he’s gotten you, before spreading the wetness with his soiled fingers.

“Are you ready for three, little girl?” He asks, almost mocking. You preen at the nickname and at the promise of the stretch of three fingers inside of you.

Even with the preparation he had given you, he punches a deep exhale from you and he pushes three fingers. The fit is so tight that you can feel how the rough pads of his fingers are. He always did refuse to wear gloves when he lifted weights. Now you want to thank him for it, because the friction inside you makes you want to scream.

It doesn’t help how slowly he’s going either. He’s relishing in how your walls wrap around his fingers, how you tighten up when he slips in a little further. And when he crooks his fingers just right, he can feel how you’re getting just a little bit wetter, slicker.

“You take me so good,” He whispers against your lips, so close it's almost a kiss.

You’re breathless though, mouth slightly ajar, waiting for his tongue to slither between your lips. He doesn’t make a move though aside from a cocky smirk and an arched brow.

Mingyu lets his fingers continue on with their noble job of getting you closer and closer to the edge. Each push and pull of his digits inside you set your nerves alight, but the delicate movement of his right hands make you want to die.

Even as he’s coaxing and orgasm with three fingers on his left hand, the fingers on his right are tracing delicate swirls and unrecognizable patterns along your inner thigh. Every now and then they’d go higher, just by the lips of your pussy.

The pace is much too slow for your liking and you’re worried that your absence would start to seem suspicious. You weren’t at Mingyu’s training center where everything is kept under lock and key with a very well written NDA. You were at Music Bank where staff members were nosy and there was surely another girl group member roaming the halls, praying for your downfall.

“Daddy, faster,” Is all you can manage in between kisses on Mingyu’s jawline, licking a stripe to taste the salt of his sweat and that underlying tinge of just him.

You don’t expect his free hand to come and grip the underside of your jaw, his fingers long enough to reach both sides of your cheeks. He applies just the right pressure to squeeze your cheeks and force your lips into a pucker.

It would be cute if not for the look on Mingyu’s face.

“This is a birthday gift, angel. Be good while I give it to you, hmm?” He says as he begins to pick up the pace.

In no time the pace is punishing, the only thing slowing Mingyu down is how each push of his fingers back inside of you required a stretch and each time your walls made space for him inside you, you let out a little whimper.

When Mingyu presses his thumb against your clit, adding to the already intense pleasure, you can barely keep it together. In no time you feel the telltale signs of an inevitable orgasm.

No matter the method, every single orgasm Mingyu has ever given you was mind blowing, and this would be no exception. You feel the wetness dripping down your ass before you’re comprehending what exactly has happened, having difficulty in processing the immense pleasure coursing through you, your eyes slipping shut at the feeling of cumming all over Mingyu’s fingers.

Your walls tighten around him, even as you spill into his open palm and he continues to push in and out, droplets falling to the floor beneath you and between his feet.

Mingyu’s eyes are fixed on your entrance as he keeps you filled, pleased with how stretched out you are, ready for him to just slip in.

He pulls his fingers out only to move them to cover your clit, gently rubbing, keeping you on the precipice of pleasure, not allowing you a moment to come back to Earth. You’re in that heady space only he take you.

“Eyes open, baby. Watch daddy fuck his cock into you,” Mingyu says with a light slap to your face.

He moves and lifts your other leg up, maneuvering your hands that are wrapped around him to hold yourself open, keeping you fully spread open and seated on the dressing room counter.

Mingyu grasps his cock and gives himself one, two, three pumps to ease the initial need for friction, before he taps the now leaking tip against your clit. A pearlescent drop of precum falls on the hood of your clit and you watch, helpless as he harshly swipes at it with his thumb.

You hiss at rough handling but are immediately silenced when he brings the thumb up and shoves it into your mouth. He presses down on your tongue as if to wipe the cum off his finger. 

He grabs a fistful of the hair at the nape of your neck and smashes your mouths together. You love the way even his mouth seems to hold dominance over your own. The movements, no matter how unruly, are still just the right thing to get you going once more.

“We taste so good together, huh?” He whispers after fucking your mouth with his tongue. He pulls away slightly and lolls out his tongue to let a thick wad of spit fall from his lips down to your center.

The impact of the warm liquid has your gaping hole clenching around nothing.

It pleases Mingyu so much that he forgoes all the other teasing he initially had in mind and just guides the head of his cock to sop up the spit on your pussy before pushing in to the hilt in one thrust.

The blissed out sigh that you let out set him on fire.

Gone is the idea of long, languid strokes to stoke the fire in your belly. Instead he goes with a punishing pace that has high pitched cries slipping from your mouth.

His hands find the thickness of your ass to keep you in place, his hips doing all the work of rearranging your guts. In this angle and position, he can see how the head of his cock bulges in your abdomen slightly. It if was possible, he would have gotten harder.

Having already been so sensitive from hardly being able to come down from your first orgasm, Mingyu’s actions had you reeling into your second one in no time.

“My princess deserves to come already,” Mingyu says, slightly breathless, leaning his forehead on yours “Dad wants this pussy to never let him go.”

You nod in agreement, “It's yours forever. I love you.”

It almost seems pathetic for him to cum at those words, but it's a spectacular orgasm as he pulls out until only the head of his cock is inside you before he slams his hips flush to yours and letting himself flood your pussy with his cum.

You’re delirious as he keeps you steady,  pulling out so slowly to make sure you keep every single drop of him inside of you.

“Keep it in until you get home,” He says, “I want to slip right in the second you get through the door and still feel me inside you.”

You press your lips to his once, twice, and a third one for good measure before nodding excitedly.

“It’s your gift to me. I won’t let a single drop go to waste.”

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 GUYS I JUST READ THE CUTEST FAN ACCT FROM TODAY'S MUBANK WTFFFF

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 There's a special guest at today's live performance!! After the Midas Touch recording there was a really loud and DEEP cheeer coming from backstage. The members were all looking to see who it was ijbol!!

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 Ahreum was so happy when she figured out who it was that after bowing and greeting fans she left the stage but her mic was still on!!

huhu our baby was probably so happy and giggly as she always is! the op of the fan acct thinks its Mingyu!!

thank you Mingyu for loving and taking care of our precious Ahreum! 🥹🫧🩷

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 CONFIRMED WTFFFFF 😭😭😭 Mingyu was seen leaving Music Bank today!!

SIR U R A FOOTBALLER U HAVE NO REASON TO BE AT MUSIC BANK IF NOT FOR UR IDOL GF!!

[oukabarsburgblr]

hii!! this is so embarassing to ask because i never do this,, but by any chance do you have plans on making a continuation of the ybc x male reader fic? i enjoyed it like SO MUCH 🥹 i'd like to know more of reader's relationship with the characters, especially some of them who seems to be into him (akemi, kashima, tamura, toono? etcetc) 👉👈 more smut would be appreciated too heheh love to see the reader getting manhandled and all 🤭 thank you for your hard work by the way!! big fan of your works 💖💖

drabble...aftermath of YBC

FEATURING : AKEMI, TAMURA, KASHIMA, TOONO x male reader

Pls dont be embarassed to flood my inbox hahaha. i feel like my work is appreciated when they do. Thank you for reading my posts! I dont intend to continue on YBC since the manga itself is unfinished and i prioritise the plot of the original manga. Although i did promise a small fic somewhere in my old comments so heres a snack 🌭

Spanking, filming, talking, dubcon, small smut (not as much as the previous one)

(m/n) liked to believe that his life would continue as normal after that. Maybe he shouldn't really put his trust in those perverts. Akemi out of all people.

"Look here, (m/n)-chan~"

The blonde cooed, pulling the (h/c)'s face up to look at the camera in front of them. (m/n) only drooled, his body limp on the singular bed with Akemi humping his ass in the blonde's room.

The day before, was the revolutionary gangbang and (m/n) passed out, too tired to even clean himself but he awoke in the president's room. His body was cleaned and expected his lower half ached but he didn't expect the blonde to climb on top of him asking for seconds.

"Ahn! You're so- mmmff cute, (m/n)!" Akemi mewled, pounding his dick into the (h/c)'s ass, who was on his knees, his teary-eyed cock-drunk face facing the camera, giving his best lewd face with the bed creaking underneath them.

Akemi proposed for a video, wanting a memento of their special moment, albeit (m/n) was no longer a virgin, he reassured (m/n) that he was still as sensitive as one.

"Mmmn ughh unh-" (m/n)'s breath hitched, he fisted the sheets underneath him as his sore hole leaked lube and twitched every time Akemi thrusted his dick in. He was not sober, still drowsy from yesterday's pounding session but he let the blonde ravaged him, too tired to resist, and it was a win for him too.

Pushing his hips back, (m/n) weakly tried to fuck himself on the blonde too, the president laughing and kissing his back with encouragement. "You really are the best. Even better than us Yaribu!" Akemi licked and bit his neck, drawing out whimpers from the (h/c).

Akemi pulled out and quickly finished himself on (m/n)'s ass, making sure the camera caught view of his cum smeared all over the (h/c)'s bottom and dripping down his back. (m/n) whined, he wanted another round as Akemi leaned forward to grab the phone, pulling (m/n) up and shoving it in his face.

"Say 'not a virgin'~" (m/n) did not say it, only frowning and smacking the laughing blonde who delved into the former's previous request, making sure he recorded every single orgasm (m/n) achieved, his camera lens capturing his squirting cum-filled hole.

-

Tamura was a bit nicer to (m/n) when it comes to sex. Although his mouth was foul, he was a cooperating person in intimacy. They were friends, maybe. But the (h/c) wished the fucker would shut up at times.

"Come on, senpai. Pretty sure you can go faster than that!"

They would fuck if they had run into each other, if his vice-captain wasn't by his side, of course. Tamura sloppily making out with (m/n) as they stumble somewhere private to satiate their lust, in this case, the janitor's closet.

(m/n) had tears slipping down his chin, whines from his throat as he rode the blue-haired second year. His knees scratched against the wooden floor, his ass slapping on top of Tamura's thighs and his anus swallowing the latter's veiny cock.

"Ahn ahn ahh ah! Mmff- I'm gonna cum! C-Cumming- soon-" (m/n) squealed as he squirted out ropes of cum onto Tamura's abs, his hole clenching around the latter who quickly thrusted up into the squirming third year. "Who knew you had this side of you!"

The second year kissed (m/n), his tongue shoved down the latter's throat before pulling out to mock him again. "You have such a neat face and a polite facade. You're the perfect slut!"

Slapping Tamura, (m/n) hissed in pain as the second year dug his nails into his waist. "Fuck you." Tamura licked his lips in excitement. "I like you." He purred, aroused at getting cursed at.

-

Kashima was the sweetest. In sex and in person.

"(m/n)-senpai!" The first year ran to him, catching up at the other end of a hallway. "How are you today?"

He grinned and would suck up to the volleyball captain, wanting his attention from his other crush. Kashima would often try to run into the third year, crossing paths in the upperclass' hallways or passing by the volleyball gym. It was cute, to say the most, Kashima's little crush that is.

It wasn't so little when he was in other positions.

"(m/n)-senpai urmmff! I like you! Ngh mmngg-" Kashima held up (m/n) against the shower room, the (h/c) pulling him in when there was no one and they slobbered over each other, tearing clothes off and the first year was so passionate with him.

But (m/n) knew his mind would drift elsewhere. Toono, to be exact.

(m/n) panted, his arms around the ravenette's neck, his legs locking around Kashima's torso who was pounding his hips into (m/n)'s against the cold and wet wall. His eyes lulled back into his skull at Kashima's rough thrusts.

He knew there was something going on between Kashima and Toono, he saw it during the end of the gangbang. And he had no plans to interfere, only indulging in Kashima's affections for him as he doted on his kind kouhai.

-

Toono was still embarrassed to face the third year, hiding away every time their eyes clashed and jumping into bushes if the (h/c) so happened to be walking by. It was annoying and amusing to the third year, the reaper who had brought him to the Yaribu's room.

But it was getting tired to see him running away.

"Stop being so scared of me."

(m/n) confronted the brunette, who cornered himself in the library when the (h/c) had only wanted to grab a book for his upcoming studies. Toono nodded wildly, agreeing with the third year. "Y-Yes! Of course, senpai!"

The (h/c) rolled his eyes. "I told you, I'm fine. It wasn't that bad, it was fun too!" "FUN???" (m/n) pressed his lips into a thin line. "Duh. It's a gangbang." "B-But, we're guys so-"

The captain grabbed his face and smacked their lips together, wanting to shut up the stammering brunnette. It wasn't the most morally correct action but it felt right and Toono wouldn't shut up about his oh so heterosexual-ness.

Toono was stiff at first before he began to melt into the kiss, his hands shaking as he gripped onto (m/n)'s shirt. The (h/c) pulled away, gazing down at the blushing first year. "You should stop talking about 'we're all men' stuff, okay? It's repetitive and a fib."

The brunette only nodded, in awe of the third year. (m/n) promptly left the starstruck Toono, as he ushered himself out of the library with a satisfied huff.

[END SCENE]

[unedited]

Afterthoughts :

The anime left out so many things in the manga i just speedrunned an hour ago. Like they did NOT look like twinks. I could not find a future with Shikatani, Itome, Yaguchi, Jimmy and Yuri for this specific scenario, like they would not gaf, especially Itome who would definitely plan to murder (m/n) at one point.

With said, I would not be writing for YBC (except for that one user rq i forgot the username to) not until Kashima and Toono finally get together properly. I LURVE KASHIMA ARGH.

Sorry for those who's seen the cropped out fic for this and im aware i did not put my 100% for this mess. I dont think i can write properly any time soon and I just realised I'm terrible with requests haha. Think im gonna focus on my ocs more. Had so much fun with those aus.

BONUS :

Daisuke grasped his captain's face, licking (m/n)'s lips as they stumbled onto the desk of the empty classroom. "I can't stand it. Seeing you with them." The (h/c) felt shivers run down his spine as Daisuke pulled his uniform off. "It just happens. Thought nothing would change."

(m/n) gasped out, his body lying on the table as Daisuke pressed himself on top of the (h/c), his heart racing and his hands shaking. "I was furious. Furious at them for harassing you. But I never thought you'd go to them." "People are making a big fuss out of my virginity. It's just sex- mmff!"

The (h/c) covered his mouth as Daisuke shoved his hand into his pants, fondling and pressing his crotch. "You are everything to me, (m/n). Everything I could ever wish for." Daisuke kissed his captain's neck, pulling off his own shirt.

"You are the pinnacle of my sins and greed."

(m/n) felt his heart was beating so fast, his hands groping the ravenette's chest as he opened his legs further, helping Daisuke shuffle his pants off. "Should've told me sooner." He mumbled, licking and biting Daisuke's neck.

"I was waiting for you first." Daisuke snapped back, pulling (m/n)'s face and shoving his tongue against the latter's, making out passionately, drool slipping out from the corner of their mouths.

"It's my fault then?" The captain teased, his mind getting hotter as he bucked his hips against Daisuke's. "No. I could never blame you. It's those stupid perverts."

(m/n) laughed as he cupped the pouting ravenette's cheeks. "You have no one to blame but yourself." He winked at his vice-captain. "Then let me make up to you." Daisuke grinned, his body pressing more against the twitching (h/c), only the evening sun baring witness to their ludicrous confessions.

TAGLIST :

@tehyunnie @rainnyydaysworld

The difference in quality w my oc and the ybc members???? I failed you all💀 ill edit it properly

[sohnric]

to. my first – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x fem! reader

genre: 90s au. twenty-five twenty-one au, friends to lovers au, exes to lovers au. fluff, slice of life, coming of age, suggestive. highschool au, football player! sunwoo, baker! sunwoo. cheerleader! reader. first love au. what we call wet cat sunwoo. meeting your ex after years and falling back in love with him kind of thing.

warnings: alcohol, throwing up, swearing, reader has hair long enough for a ponytail, a heated make out session or two that alludes to them having sex but no actual smut happens, finger sucking, the reader moping around a lot, no plot just vibes.

word count: 31k

a/n: inspired by me telling @/csenke that sunwoo is my first love. why am i so soft for this man i truly dont know... thank you best friend for betaing this monster i appreciate it a LOT! also thank you to sana @/heemingyu and izzy @/from-izzy for the help on some parts of the fic and brainstorming the ending w me, as well as beta reading small parts of this.

spin-off to my fic millennium bug because sunwoo deserves love too! the reader from eric's fic is referenced to as MB!Y/N in this. you don't have to read the first fic to understand this one, but there are a lot of references in this and i highly encourage you to do so!

they say you never forget about your first love. you guess that's true. (or– a story about reckless love, first kisses, growing up, ambition, and inevitably, failure.)

August 2007

The laughter all around is electric. The music playing in the background makes you sway and hum to the melody, the familiar tunes making your insides light up with a different sense of nostalgia when you remember the times in which these songs were popular. Your tired limbs make you cut your way through the room and sit down on a vacant chair, not really caring about where your designated seat was anymore, just needing to rest for a second before you either throw up from exhaustion or faint from how tired your legs are from all the dancing. Paying a quick goodbye to Juyeon on the dance floor, you heave out a satisfied sigh when your bottom meets the cushioned seat of the chair, eyes zeroing on the filled dance floor.

Feeling a cramp in your foot, you scowl and lean down, ready to do the thing you’ve been desiring for at least the last three hours– if not the whole day. Hands playing with the strap on your heel, you make the shoe come undone before you slip the uncomfortable footwear off your feet, relaxing when your naked limbs meet with the cold tile on the floor. 

You don’t really know who in their right mind would have a wedding in the middle of the summer heat, but you guess there are people that are out of their mind like that– and those people are your friends from high school. 

Everything about coming back to your hometown has made you feel unpleasantly nostalgic so far– the streets haven’t changed a bit, your childhood home still looks just the same, furniture unmoved, and the air is still as crisp, yet humid as it always was during late August. It’s only tonight that finally makes the weird bittersweetness turn into joy. You’re back home with everyone you’ve ever known, with everyone who’s made you into who you are today. You’re seeing all their faces for the first time in ages– and frankly, it does feel good. 

The satisfaction in your veins stays for a bit until a figure dressed in a suit comes into your point of view. It’s not like you’re seeing him for the first time tonight– he’s a big character, even when it comes to this wedding, so it’s hard to not notice him– but as his legs take him towards you in a wobbly nature, it dawns on you that now is maybe finally the time you get to talk to him. Don’t get me wrong– there are no hard feelings between the two of you (or at least you don’t have any, you’re not so sure about his side of the story). It’s just that seeing him dressed in a tux, tie now a little loose around his neck, the twinkle in his eye still present as back when you were both a lot younger, there’s still a strong aftertaste of your feelings towards him somewhere on the tip of your tongue. 

His walk is a little lopsided as he grins at you and takes a seat on the vacant chair next to yours, a huff of air escaping his lungs as his body relaxes, limbs falling freely down the sides of his chair. His cheeks are a little red and his hair a little messy– there’s only so much to explain his composure apart from all the dancing he’s done.

“So I see that you still can’t handle your liquor well even after all those years?” you joke, making the boy turn his head to face you, an amused twinkle appearing in his smile. 

His eyes are still the same chocolate orbs you know, still the same soft look adorning them whenever he feels particularly ecstatic. He shrugs, jolting his bottom lip out before he sighs to himself. “Well, it’s not every day you are the best man at your best friend’s and your sister’s wedding,” he muses, shrugging. 

Laughing at his remark, once again taking in the state of the room– Juyeon, Hyunjae and Haknyeon each dancing somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, MB!Y/N’s friends from university twirling her around in the right corner, Eric staring at the bride with a warm gaze in his eyes, sipping on a drink while resting against one of the tables, clearly taking a mental image to look at every time he feels the need to– it all feels kind of surreal. Who would’ve thought all those years ago that it would end like this?

Well, Eric Sohn, for starters. He confessed to everyone in his wedding speech that he knew he wanted to marry MB!Y/N the moment she kissed him on New Year’s Eve of 1999– him being this cheesy was only acceptable because it was his own wedding. In any other circumstance, Sunwoo wouldn’t be able to let his best friend live this down.

It’s not like you ever expected those two to break up– it just makes you a little in awe at how fast time is passing. “It’s kinda crazy, isn’t it?” you hum, squinting at the flood of people on the dance floor.

“It is,” Sunwoo hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek, “still can’t believe they’re dating. Hell, they’re getting married right now…” 

“You can’t believe your sister is dating your best friend?” you laugh, wiping the sweat that’s accumulated off your forehead, the mist appearing there both because of your reckless dancing and because of the unbearable heat of the August night.

“That, and also the other way around,” he hisses, “but I guess they’re both so insufferable that they go well together, so I don’t know why I’m still so surprised.”

Chuckling at his comment– you guess the bond he has with his sister is never to be changed, no matter how many years have passed– you watch as he shrugs off his suit jacket and throws it over the back of his chair, starting to roll up his sleeves to expose his forearms. Eyes following his motions, you clear your throat and force yourself to look back into his eyes when he asks you a question. “What about you, though? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“I am,” you nod, no hesitation, “it’s really nice to see all of you after so long. Plus, I’m having a lot of fun, so that’s a nice bonus." 

“I can see that,” he grins, “by the way you sat on my seat just now, and all–” 

“Oh god– I’m sorry,” you gasp, suddenly feeling a little silly. And here you thought he went up to you because he wanted to catch up… “I’ll move, if–”

The sound of Sunwoo’s hearty laugh lands into your ear– it’s just the same as it was back when you were both high schoolers, making your heart soar– before he shakes his head and urges you to stay with a motion of his hand, putting his large palm on your thigh to keep you from moving. “No, no, don’t be stupid,” he says, “I don’t mind. I was looking for you anyway, so you just made it easier for me by sitting here, actually.”

He was looking for you, resonates in your head, the familiar buzzing in your fingertips alerting you of the effect he has on you even tonight. God, maybe you were the one that had too much to drink…

“You were?” you ask, tone of voice light– not at all suspicious. 

Sunwoo nods, shrugging. “Well, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do,” he smiles, “don’t we?” 

Eyes meeting his, the contact feels electrifying to the point it makes your head spin when you look at him, taking in his glossy eyes and the flush of his cheeks. They’re less round than when you two were young, but his eyes still stay the same– big, round and tender.

He reminds you a lot of the time when you saw him drunk for the first time.

to. my first time getting drunk

April 1999

Havoc rings in his ears like jingle bells, the world around him spinning like he’s on a rollercoaster. His head feels like someone is installing a nail to the middle of his skull and when he looks around, Lee Donghyuck is staring at him with a glass bottle of soju in his hand, urging him to drink more.

Sunwoo doesn’t have it in him to do much else other than shake his head. It feels like he forgot all his vocabulary, not a single word coming out of his mouth or to the awake parts of his brain, watery eyes begging his classmate to not make him drink any more. 

What seemed like a good idea just a few moments ago– see, it’s prohibited to drink on school trips, but Kim Sunwoo is infamous for loving to break the rules– now seems like the worst idea of his whole entire life. He feels so sick he thinks he’s going to die of alcohol poisoning, but the laughter around keeps painfully reminding him that he hasn’t even had that much to drink in the first place. The amount of times he’s been called a lightweight this night is making his pride severely hurt, and even graciously intoxicated, he can’t bear the sting this is putting on his already hurt ego. 

“Come on, birthday boy! I’m sure you can handle one more,” Donghyuck urges, uncurling Sunwoo’s fist and placing the bottle into his grasp, making the poor boy wince and battle back tears. 

He knows he’s being embarrassing. The choice between not dying and not humiliating himself is rather a difficult one, but the moment he finally finishes the crossword puzzle in his brain and puts the glass opening against his lips, the bottle is thankfully taken out of his grasp and discarded somewhere where his eyes can’t reach.

“You’re done for the night, Kim Sunwoo,” you haul at him, shaking your head at the poor boy, “you’re done.”

Sunwoo wants to open his mouth and protest, maybe ask you what you mean, but the moment his lips unseal, he gets a sniff of the alcohol in the air and suddenly, he feels like throwing up. Your eyes lock with his, a pleading– maybe a warning– mirrors in Sunwoo’s gaze, and even though he’s so drunk he feels like he crossed dimensions, he applauds your ability to know just what he means by a single look into his eyes.

“Oh, Christ–” you curse, hurried steps moving to the corner of the room, swiftly grabbing the trash can and running back towards your friend sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. 

You make it just in time to catch the contains of Sunwoo’s stomach into the trash can, making the boy insanely grateful– he’s wearing the new shoes his mum got him for his birthday, and god knows he’d hate it if he ruined them the very first day he can show them off to his football friends.

The whole world disappears into the background as he throws up while making a mental promise to himself to never drink again. The only thing keeping him from losing it all is the feeling of your hand on his back, comforting rubs grounding him back to earth. Giggles fill his ears and he’s sure everyone’s laughing at him– even in his drunken state, he can recognise the shame filling his veins– but before he can open his mouth to argue with his classmates, the sound of your angry voice makes him seal his lips close and listen to the scolding you offer to his teammates for making him drink so much.

“You know he has a weak stomach, Donghyuck!” you huff and puff, your hand still drawing comforting circles to Sunwoo’s back as his head stays stuck in the bucket, not having enough energy to even straighten his spine. 

“It’s his birthday! Come on, don’t be so tight-arsed.”

“Well, do you want him to die on his day of birth? That’s not very cool of you,” you growl, the shuffle of your clothing and a pained “ow” escaping his friend’s lips hinting to Sunwoo that you just kicked the right wing to his shin. 

Deserved, Sunwoo thinks.

“Can somebody get Eric? I’m pretty sure he’s in Daehwi’s room with MB!Y/N, Minjeong and Jihoon,” you hum, waiting for anyone to follow your orders. 

Sunwoo blinks in and out of it, his consciousness giving up on him with the incredible pain in his temples. He feels incredibly grateful to have someone like you by his side not only now, but all the time. The two of you have gotten incredibly closer ever since he joined the football team– and with you being one of the cheerleaders, you’re always somehow around. Not that he’s complaining, of course. It seems like you are one of the more responsible ones in this room right now, and god knows Sunwoo needs a bit of guidance on his day to day ventures.

“Do you think you’ll be sick again?” you ask, voice soft in his ear. “Or can I take the trash can off you now?”

Sunwoo thinks for a bit, then he nods and lets go of the plastic bucket. He doesn’t know what happens to it after and nor does he care– it seems like the alcohol in his veins took away all his sense of object permanence. He can barely see anything in the yellow lights of the room (which makes him believe he is going blind from all the alcohol he’s had– don’t tell him it’s just his eyes getting hazy and confused with how much his head is spinning), but he’s sure he can feel you wiping his tear-stained cheeks (he wasn’t crying– his eyes were just watering) and pulling him closer to you when he threatens to fall over even in his seated position. Your hand comes up to play with his hair when you let him rest his head against your shoulder, your actions making him sleepy, eyes closing on themselves like a threat for him to fall asleep any second.

Something about the care, the loyal protectiveness you take over the boy makes his heart soften. He breaths in your scent, trying his hardest to focus on your presence and not the weird feeling in his stomach– although it’s settled a bit since he threw up, it’s still a little uneasy– and before he knows it, there’s a tap on his shoulder waking him up from the haze.

Sunwoo mourns, not really wanting to move from his position, too comfortable with your fingers threading through his hair– but much to his dismay, your soft voice appears in his ear, telling him he has to get up. “Can you walk on your own? We’re gonna get you back to your room,” you hum, your lips accidentally brushing against the shell of his ear, making everything in him light on fire. He’s not really sure if this is the effect alcohol has on you, but if it is, he’s certain he never wants to drink again.

“Sunwoo?” you call, the way you say his name suddenly all too angelic in his ears– but still not enough for him to answer. “Alright,” you sigh after the dreadful silence, taking charge of the situation, moving away from the boy and offering him your hands to hold on to as you try to get him on his feet, “I guess we’re gonna find out.”

His fingers intertwine with yours as he stares up at you, his vision blurry, but still sharp enough to make out your tired face. The sight is enough to make Sunwoo worry– is he being too much? Are you mad at him? Do you not want to be his friend anymore? – but before he has a chance to address any of those concerns, he’s being tugged up to his feet. Not ready for the weight of his own body, his knees buckle and refuse to work. There is a pair of hands clutching his arm automatically– yours– as another pair holds him up from behind by his waist. 

He’s not really sure who was his other savior, but by the silent curse heard from behind, he thinks he recognises Eric’s voice. 

“I know I shouldn’t have left him alone,” he hears his best friend say, voice full of frustration.

“You really shouldn’t have,” he hears you sigh, making the poor boy scowl.

It still feels like he can’t really speak, exhaustion taking a toll on him, but he follows the orders as you tell him to get on his best friend’s back– Eric’s crouching figure ready for the impact, waiting for the taller one to clutch onto him so he can carry him into the safety of their shared room. The operation has to be quick if they don’t want to be caught by their teachers while walking through the hall, and somehow, in the distant crevices of his brain, Sunwoo recognises that and he makes no battle to resist, doing exactly as he’s told.

“Man, you’re heavy,” he hears Eric huff under him as the poor boy carries him through the hall. “You’re gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow, dude…”

Sunwoo’s head rests against his friend’s shoulder, hands carelessly hanging around Eric’s neck. He tries to blink away the sleep, desiring to stay awake, when your concerned face appears in his vision and suddenly, he feels insanely guilty.

“I’m sorry,” the two words escape his mouth with no trouble– the first words to appear in his vocabulary after the few minutes of him being surprisingly mute– only to hear his friend chuckle.

“Well, you’re going to be dying from a headache tomorrow, not us,” Eric hums, “so I think you have to apologize to future you first.”

Sunwoo pouts, bangs falling into his eyes making him blink in a desperate try to get the stray hairs away, attempting to make eye contact with your side profile. “Are you mad at me?” he asks, voice a little groggy from all the screaming and drinking.

“What?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his question. Your face morphs into a confused expression, the one where a wrinkle appears in between your brows– and it takes everything in Sunwoo not to poke the little line with his pointer finger in utter endearance.

“Are you… mad…?” he asks again, watching as your face morphs into amusement.

“No,” you shake your head, a hint of a laugh in your tone. “Why?”

“You look grumpy.”

“I’m just worried,” you note.

“About?” Sunwoo asks, his intelligence morphing into a one of a 10-year old with the influence the alcohol has on him. 

“You,” you say, sighing and shaking your head as you move two steps in front of Eric and open the door to their room, closing it swiftly behind you and following the duo towards Sunwoo’s bed. 

The younger one drops the boy into the cushions of his bed with an exaggerated sigh (that might as well be real, for all we know– god knows you wouldn’t be able to carry Sunwoo on your own), and the comfort of the pillow around his head is enough to make Sunwoo’s eyes start closing again, sleep threatening to take over his consciousness.

There’s some noise interrupting his sleep, though, making the boy tear his tired eyes open to notice you walking through the room. Sunwoo finds Eric putting a glass of water onto his bedside table and watches as you put a trash can beside his bed, hushed whispers sent Eric’s way resonating in the quiet room. “Make sure that he sleeps on his side so if he throws up again, he doesn’t choke–”

“Y/N?” he calls your name, watching as you look at him with careful eyes.

“Hm?”

“Are you leaving?” he asks, maybe a little foolishly.

“Yes.”

The boy nods at your reaction, showing his acknowledgement. In the drunken state of his mind, he knows he doesn’t particularly want you to leave, but he’s also fairly certain, finding the rational thought in the sober part of his brain, that you have to leave, and so he lets it go. The drunken state of his mind wins, though, when the next sentence foolishly escapes his lips.

“Please don’t stop liking me after this,” he mumbles, words slurring.

“What?” you ask– confused because you either don’t fully comprehend what he’s trying to say, or because you truly just couldn’t hear what words escaped his mouth– but when you don’t get a clarification, you just nod at the boy, seemingly desperate to keep him happy tonight. “Okay, I won’t.”

“You won’t stop liking me?” he asks, a big pout playing with his features.

“No.”

“Okay.”

That seems to put his mind at ease– enough to make his brain finally turn off and lead him to sleep. He doesn’t really remember what he dreamt of that night, but the last memory he has of the night of his 18th birthday is that you promised to not stop liking him after seeing him a drunken mess, and how he so deeply wished you’ll continue to like him forever.

It hits him only a few months later that the thing he so desperately hoped for that night was that you’ll keep liking him even at his worst– that he didn’t drive you away and one day, maybe, you’ll like him more than just a friend.

to. my first detention

September 1999

Sunwoo was never the one to break the rules. 

Well, if you don’t count that one time he skipped class just because he got too bored of it in the middle of the lecture. And it wasn’t even that hard either– he just asked if he could go to the bathroom, and when he got the approval, he stood up and left, never returning. 

Or if you don’t count that one time he climbed up the ladder on the side of the school building with his friend Juyeon and had his lunch there. Or that one time he cheated on an exam and made a scene about it when accused of the act, leading the professor into letting him off just that one time. 

Sunwoo is usually too lazy to break the rules. Some days, paradoxically, his laziness is what leads him to break the rules. He can’t really help it, even if he tried.

The one time he does break the rules, expecting to be punished by his teacher for coming late to class, it’s not even his fault in the first place. Morning football practice ran late and he didn’t feel like rushing to change out of his practice clothing– see, the laziness is playing a part in this as well– so when he arrived into his Physics lecture, the clock was already 15 minutes after the bell rang for the first period.

Much to his surprise, his teacher didn’t even punish him. “Well, you’re an athlete, so it’s understandable,” he heard, making his lips stretch out into a subtle smile. If he knew that joining the football club would lead him to have such privileges, he would’ve done it a long time ago. 

How did he still end up in detention, you may ask? Well, that’s a funny question.

Your flushed face appears in the doorway of the classroom exactly 2 minutes after Sunwoo does, breathing heavily and wiping the sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Your hair tied up in a ponytail is loose now, stray hairs falling out to frame your face, your school uniform wrinkly, shirt not tucked in properly, as you spit out endless apologies to your teacher about being late for lecture.

“I’m really, really sorry about being late,” you bow, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you look around the classroom with apologetic eyes, “I had cheerleading practice and it ran a bit late, so I didn’t have enough time to–”

“Sit, Ms Y/L/N,” the teacher hums, “if you have time to do any other activities other than being in class, I’m sure you’ll have time to stay after class for detention, am I right?”

“Sir, I really–”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Now, are you seeing the difference in the way you and Sunwoo were treated? That’s right. It may not look like it, because the young football player rarely puts effort into anything (other than the game), but when something angers him, it’s quite difficult for him to keep it in. 

And that’s exactly why his ass is currently sitting in one of the chairs of his classroom, legs spread wide as he looks around the silent room in boredom. Accusing his teacher for being sexist and holding to double standards wasn’t the best idea, but it was enough to get him into detention alongside you. 

His eyes get caught up with something– someone– sitting two desks in front of him, one to the right, scribbling their homework into their notebook. At least you are using up the detention time for important and useful things, he thinks. That won’t stop him from interrupting you in your task, though. Even better– it encourages him.

Tearing out a piece of paper from his notebook, Sunwoo fishes for a pen in one of his pockets, writing a short note that says: Wanna get ramen after this? before he crumbles the paper into a small ball. After watching the teacher for a few seconds, making sure that he’s not going to get caught, he throws the ball in your direction, aiming straight for your head.

He misses. Well, that’s why he plays football and not volleyball– he doesn’t have good aim when it comes to his hands– but nonetheless, the note ends up hitting your shoulder before it bounces off and falls to the ground.

Confused, you look around before you find Sunwoo staring at you, pointing towards the paper on the ground with a grin on his face. You sigh, sending a telepathic signal of ‘you’re acting like a child again,’ straight into his brain before you reach for the paper ball and take it into your hands, fingers uncurling the thin material and reading out the words he’s sent to you.

Only a few seconds pass before you throw the ball back to him– he catches it in his hands, earning an approving look from you at his strangely fast reflexes, making a sense of victory flow gracefully through his veins. A frown settles on his face when he reads out your reply, though.

can’t. I promised Aeri I’ll hang out with her later. we’re going for frozen yogurt.

Sunwoo furrows his brows. Oh how he hates to be denied. 

I can join!! i could use some froyo

You send a tired look to him over your shoulder when you receive the message, rolling your eyes at his comment. It’s obvious that Sunwoo can’t join– he knows it by the look in your eyes. Hell, he knew he wasn’t invited even before he asked– he just likes to see your frustration. Something about the way your face scrunches up, clicking your tongue against the roof of your mouth, amuses him in a way he can’t really describe.

you could’ve gotten yours instead of staying in detention. what was that about, by the way?? I’ve never seen anyone willingly do detention… you must be out of your mind

The message makes him chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. His motives are clear– well, at least in his brain. If he stays in detention, he can see you for some more. Which means he can hang out with you more (or look at the back of your head from afar, whichever you grace him with on that particular day). And he wants to spend as much time with you as he can, well, because… because he just likes to do so. Why?

Don’t ask. He hasn’t thought it out that far yet.

I just like things to be fair. I came late too :(( 

He writes back instead. Fairness is the last thing he cares about if the world is in his favor. If the world is unfair to you, though– that’s another thing. 

weirdo.

You write back. The pen is already in his hand, ink getting hotter as he masters up a reply, when the loud voice of his teacher cuts through the classroom and announces that detention is over and they’re all dismissed. Something in Sunwoo’s stomach drops. 

Sighing, he puts the note back into his pocket (and will forget to throw it out. Then, he’ll find it there after a few days, unravel the ball and read over the letters with a smile. He won’t throw it out then either– he’ll crumble it back and keep it there until the paper wears out and forms into litter in the pocket of his pants). Gathering his things into his bag, he swings the backpack over one of his shoulders before catching up with you, already halfway out of the classroom. You seem to be in a rush to meet Aeri– he understands– but there’s still one more thing he needs to do.

Clearing his throat, Sunwoo approaches you from the back. “Hey!”

“Hi,” you hum, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. “Aeri’s waiting for me outside, so I gotta–”

“Wait, I– I have something for you,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. Why does he suddenly feel so nervous? The words his sister said to him yesterday keep resonating in his head, and although he knows it’s not true and he doesn’t see you in that way, his stomach churns and he clutches his hand into a fist by his side, a desperate act to ground himself.

“What?” you look at him, eyebrows furrowed, all confused. Sunwoo’s not the one to give gifts– sure, he pays for your meals sometimes, but that’s only because you share them and he comes to the logical conclusion that he eats more of the portion than you do anyways, so it’s only fair.

“Um… well, my sister… she was making those bracelets yesterday and she made me do it with her, because she’s really annoying when she wants to be,” he mumbles, fishing for the bracelet in the front pocket of his backpack, lying straight through his teeth. 

You stare at him with wide eyes, completely unreadable to Sunwoo. Well, he already said it, so he may as well just dig his hole even deeper. The yarn is soft under his touch when he twirls the bracelet in his fingertips, eyes focusing on the shades of red and pink, suddenly too afraid to face you and look you in the eyes. “And, uh… we made too many, so I brought you one, because… you’re my friend, and all,” he mumbles, chewing the inside of his cheek.

His sneakers are oh so interesting to look at in the few seconds he spends waiting for your reply. He feels like he’s in court, waiting for his ordeal– anxiety making him bounce on the tips of his feet, his other hand clutching the strap of his backpack for dear life. 

“Did you make that?” you ask, tone of voice genuinely appreciative.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. 

He did not.

“That’s– that’s really cute,” you gasp, making the boy finally look up. When he finds that the words are addressed to the bracelet his sister made, not his act of kindness, something inside of him gets irritated, but the little devil in his chest leaves just as fast when you meet his eye and take the yarn from his hands, examining the red and pink knots from a closer distance.

“Yeah,” he hums, not really knowing what to say.

“Can you tie it for me?” you ask, offering the bracelet back to the boy and smiling at him, waiting for him to circle it around your wrist and secure it to place with a knot. It’s a bit long, the ends sticking out to different directions, but Sunwoo admits that it does look quite nice against your skin, and that if he forgets about the fact that it was his sister who actually made the bracelet (even though he begged her to teach him for approximately two hours, going as far as bribing her with his snacks), he does feel quite proud of the gesture.

There’s something possessive about the bracelet, he thinks. It's like a sign to everyone that you have someone who cares about you enough to tie it around your wrist. It’s like saying hey, this is my best friend! No one else enjoys their company enough to make a bracelet to prove it, but me. It’s like a silent translation of the heart’s calling: this person is mine. They’re not allowed to take this off until I die.

Sunwoo feels a bit giddy as he watches you admire the yarn around your wrist. You sport the same expression as Eric did when he forced a bracelet out of his sister yesterday– eyes glimmering, the widest grin on your features. While he may be sure what the face meant when it came to his best friend (although he tries to close his eyes from the obvious crush he has on his sister), he’s not quite certain when it comes to you.

In his mind, you smile like this at everyone. You’re just that kind of person.

But oh does he wish you mirror Eric’s feelings on the matter. Oh does he hope you tell everyone he is the one who gave the bracelet to you– he hopes you boost in front of your friends, tell them just how much you like it.

…maybe his sister was right. 

Maybe the bracelet had a deeper intention.

August 2007

“So,” Sunwoo hums, taking a salty chip from the bowl settled in the middle of the table, looking over at you with a curious gaze, “how have you been?” he asks, chewing as he waits for you to answer.

It’s an easy question, one would think– and it’s true, it’s not the most difficult thing to answer. But considering the circumstances, the fact that you and Kim Sunwoo haven’t seen each other since you both graduated from high school, despite telling each other you’ll stay in contact and see each other whenever you have the chance to– it gets a little bit more difficult. It’s been 6 years, many things have changed, you had your fair share of good things happening to you as well as the bad. 

What do you tell Sunwoo, though– a friend you lost somewhere along the way, much like everyone? Well, you can’t really blame him for growing distant with you– although to this day, you don’t really know the reasoning. He was the first one to leave, and although you always wished him the best, nobody can really blame you for doing your part at flying out of your nest. Everyone has to experience the outside world before they can find their place in it, no? 

It’s not your fault that you weren’t as successful as you wanted to be… 

“Well, you know,” you shrug, “so and so. Many things happened, but I guess I’m doing fine,” you conclude, nodding to yourself.

The face Sunwoo offers you is one of concern. You recognise that this is not really what he wanted to hear– not really what he expected you to say. The both of you were always ambitious, shooting for the stars, so it would be nice to know that at least one of you finally chased down the dreams you’ve had since you were young.

“What about you?” you ask quickly, shielding yourself from more interrogation. “How did football go?” 

That has Sunwoo chuckling, averting his gaze. He takes a sip of the soda placed on his table before he turns to you again and answers the question, shrugging to himself. “Didn’t really go as I planned,” he says, nodding to himself. “Guess I lost many years on it, but oh well. Can’t really take it back now.”

“Don’t say that,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek. The answer he offered you was not surprising to you– not that you didn’t believe in his abilities, not at all. It’s just that by now, if Sunwoo’s dreams came true, you’d be aware. You’d hear about him everywhere. You’d see him on the news, in the paper… It seems like your friend has disappeared out of the spotlight he always wanted even sooner than he could walk straight into the stardom. You wouldn’t say you were keeping tabs on him, no– you just cared enough to try to look for him in every place you could. “It wasn’t lost years. You did what you loved, and you tried your best.”

“I know,” he says, scrunching up his nose in an adorable manner before he sighs, “I’m just moping around. Besides, I quite like the life I’ve had since coming back home,” he admits.

“You do?” you ask, eyes glimmering in the lights. Something in you shifts– moves to a more comfortable place at the information. It’s strange that hearing that he’s doing fine still makes you feel at peace. It’s been years– you really shouldn’t care by now.

“I do,” he nods, “I work at Juyeon’s father’s bakery now. I didn’t really expect to like it, but there’s something charming about it, I’ll have you know,” Sunwoo says, taking another handful of chips into his hand before feeding them to himself, seemingly trying to chase down the tipsiness in his bloodstream.

That drags out a giggle out of you, shaking your head at the news. “I wouldn’t take you for a bakery kind of guy,” you say, “I can’t really imagine you in the kitchen.”

“Well, times change, Y/N-ie,” the nickname slips out between his lips like a punch to your gut, his teasing tone dragging nails to you in a weird sense of nostalgia, “I’m the best baker in town right now. People go crazy over my cinnamon rolls,” he nods, pointing a finger to you as if to prove his point.

“I find that hard to believe,” you squint at him, shaking your head in disbelief.

“You’ll have to come and find out,” he says, the sentence so casual that the contrast of his following statement has your heart drop a little, “well, if you’re… staying around for a bit, of course…”

Humming, watching as his eyes soften at the shift in your composure, you nod in agreement. “I’ll make sure to add that to my plan.”

Sunwoo nods in acknowledgement. Swallowing down the chips that were in his mouth, he dusts off his hands off the excess salt and licks his lips before speaking up again, seemingly collecting his thoughts. “So you’re staying around for a while?” he asks, a little bit cautious. 

He doesn’t really know how sensitive this topic is for you– you don’t even know if he’s aware of your previous whereabouts, if he knows where you left off to and why– but Sunwoo stays caring, no matter the amount of time you spent not talking, no matter the big canyon that slowly formed in between the two of you in the years of no contact. It’s something you’ve always appreciated about him. He liked joking around, but he always knew where the boundaries laid, always knew when the joke went too far. He tried hard to avoid poking around too much, but he always made sure to apologize if he realized he hurt someone’s feelings. He’s a spark of violent fire, but he’s also tamed like a fireplace when he wants to be– warm, comfortable. It’s easy to feel like it’s back in the old times when you’re around him. It’s easy to pretend neither of you ever really left.

“I am,” you nod. “Things… didn’t really work out for me either, y’know,” you chuckle, the dry kind that shows just how bitter you are about the matter. “I went to New York with the internship my aunt arranged for me in KBS, but I guess I just… wasn’t really good enough to keep full-time.”

“Don’t say that,” Sunwoo mirrors your previous statement, an honest attempt at comforting you.

“No, it’s okay,” you laugh, “I stayed abroad for a while, tried hard, but sometimes, it’s just not meant to be, y’know? So after I realized my jobs weren’t making me enough money for a decent living in the States, I came back home,” you say, mouth forming a pout as you speak– the kind that shows you’re lost in thought, making up a plan as you go, “I’ll help my parents out for a while and then look for something to do here, I think.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Sunwoo says, offering you a soft smile. “I… I guess I’d say it’s good to have you back,” he admits, averting his gaze as he says the words, “ever since I came home, it felt like something was missing, so… anyways, you’ll figure it out, so don’t worry too much.”

“Thanks, Sunwoo,” you hum, pressing your lips into a tight smile, heart squeezing a little at his sincerity. It’s strange– it’s been years, having lived through countless different situations that were supposed to change the both of you, shift you into two completely different people– but somehow, Sunwoo still feels the same. Almost as if you two never left. Almost as if you two never drifted apart and instead spent your early twenties side-by-side, just like you always planned on doing.

The boy looks at you from the corner of his eye, a content smile spreading on his lips. You feel the atmosphere shifting, the situation tensing up a bit, and with the discomfort the image of him leaving you alone brings you, the words slip out of your lips with a bit too much ease.

“Would you want to… dance with me? I wanna see if you still remember what I taught you,” you grin, watching as the playful expression mirrors on your friend’s face, a nod eliciting from him that makes you quickly put your shoes back on and get ready for the dancefloor.

“Of course,” he hums, standing up swiftly and wiping his hands on the fabric of his pants before outstretching a hand for you, tone of voice sweet like honey, “my lady?”

to. my first dance

November 1999

“Who are you asking to the dance?” you question one afternoon, the two of you behind the closed doors of his room. There aren’t many times where Sunwoo gets to invite you over– mostly because he’s too shy to have someone around when his sister is home, and his sister isn’t known to have that many friends to hang out with– so the times where he finds you settled on top of the sheets of his bed, he treasures deeply.

“I dunno,” he mumbles, looking up at you from the comfort of his rug, shrugging, “I don’t really think I’m going, actually.”

“Oh?” you gasp, pouting at the boy. “Why not?”

“I don’t really have anyone to go with,” he says. What he really means is– you’re going with someone else. Sunwoo doesn’t really see himself dancing with anyone else but you– that’s just that kind of bond you two have in his mind. Your friendship is dear to Sunwoo, and the boy can’t think of anyone else he’d like to spend the evening with. 

When his sister argued with him with logical words, telling him that he treasures his friendship with Eric just the same, but wouldn’t invite him to the prom, he just scoffed at her. MB!Y/N doesn’t know anything. He doesn’t treasure Eric in the same way, no matter the fact that they pretty much grew up together. Some things just don’t feel the same way with Eric as they do with you. He feels closer to you, in a way.

“Well, that’s bullshit,” you scoff, shaking your head at your friend, “you’re handsome. And you play football, which is every girl’s dream. I bet anyone would go with you if you just asked,” you propose, pointing a finger at the boy, not really noticing the way he blinks at hearing the words ‘you’re handsome’ coming out of your mouth in regards to him. 

Do you find him handsome? Is that your subjective opinion or are you just objectively saying what you’ve heard in the cheerleader changing rooms? 

He’d like to know. Just out of curiosity.

Sunwoo scratches the back of his neck in nerves, now fully seated and facing you. It’s hard to meet your eye when he talks, his words coming out muffled. “I can’t dance anyway, so it would be no fun for everyone involved.”

And watching you dance with his classmate Shotaro would be no fun either. See, it would be easy for Sunwoo to be okay with the fact that you were going to the prom with someone older (which is practically impossible, since you’re both seniors, just for the record…). He would understand your point, then. It’s easy to be okay with defeat when your opponent has the upper hand, but when you put two men against each other that are hierarchically equal to each other, much like Sunwoo and Shotaro, the poor boy finds it hard to not feel as insecure in his position. 

But with Shotaro being the same age as him and the same amount of popular as him, Sunwoo can’t help but compare himself to his classmate. What does Shotaro have that Sunwoo doesn’t? Is it his smile? Should Sunwoo smile more…? 

It doesn’t really help his case that you’re going to the prom with the head of the dance team. Sunwoo can’t dance… Is it the fact that he can’t dance?

Or are you just going to the prom with Shotaro because he was the one to ask you to go? Sunwoo can’t help but wonder– would you have gone with him, had he the balls and asked you first? 

“What do you mean, you can’t dance?” you say, eyeing the male. 

“Just… never learned to, I guess,” Sunwoo shrugs, “but it doesn’t really matter, since I’m not going, so…”

“But you have to go,” you pout, putting the boy in a difficult position. He doesn’t know if you’re aware of the fact, but your pleading look does wonders to his decision making. He’d commit arson if you asked him to with those glimmers in your eyes. He’d kill for you. Or die for you. Both, depending on the situation. He’d do anything.

“Why?”

“It won’t be fun if you’re not there,” you say, sighing. Your face looks so genuine Sunwoo almost believes it. It makes his heart squeeze and contemplate his decision. “I know Donghyuck is gonna spike the punch, and there are gonna be fireworks,” you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek, “and this is our senior prom, Sunwoo… you have to come.”

The words resonate in his brain, making him even more hesitant about his decision. This is your senior prom– the last dance of your high school years. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to enjoy this time with you and his friends, the last chance he gets at seeing you in a pretty gown, all dolled up and smiling from the sneaky sips of alcohol you’ll get with everyone outside of the school gym. The last opportunity for Sunwoo to dance with you, his best friend, and possibly the last time he’ll ever enjoy his evening with the rest of his football team before all of them have to study in order for them to take their CSAT.

Maybe you’re right. Maybe he should go. 

“I’ll think about it, I guess…” he mumbles, watching as your face morphs.

“You guess?” you scoff, glaring at him. “You’ll go or I’ll personally come to your house and drag you there by your hair, you get me, Kim Sunwoo?” you threaten him, having the boy laugh at your outburst. You’re really adorable when you tease him, Sunwoo thinks. 

“Got it, chief,” he says, offering you a playful look as he salutes and lays back down onto the carpet, eyes pressed to the ceiling. “Don’t expect me to dance, though, because I refuse to embarrass myself. I have quite the reputation to uphold, you see.”

Sunwoo hears you chuckle, the noise of his sheets tousling landing into his ears. Before he has a chance to look at you and see what you’re doing, his view of the white wall above is shielded with the sight of your face, hair framing your cheeks as you stare down at him and put out your hands, waiting for him to take them and get up to a seated position. 

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“I’m gonna teach you, come on,” you call him with a motion of your hand, arms still outstretched and waiting.

“Huh?” he squints, watching as you roll your eyes in frustration.

“I’ll teach you how to dance, Sunwoo,” you snicker, watching as the boy slowly takes your hands and lets you drag him up from where he’s laying on his electric blue rug, “so you don’t embarrass yourself.”

That has Sunwoo stuttering, his figure freezing even when you manage to somehow make him stand up in the middle of his room. A million different exclamation marks appear all over his brain, warning him from the upcoming events, but he has no way of denying your proposition now, no matter how hard he tries. “No- it’s- you don’t have to, I’ll just-”

“Okay, so,” you say, dismissing all his previous attempts at stopping you from your quest, “first, you put your hand here,” you order.

The skin of your fingertips touches Sunwoo’s hand, making the boy’s heart stummer in his chest. You drag his palm towards your waist, placing it on the curve of your body. He swears he feels electricity flowing through the contact, warmth radiating off your skin even though it’s shielded by the fabric of your favorite shirt. He gulps as you put your hand on his shoulder, his eyes carefully following your movements, examining every slightest shift of your composure. 

“And then you hold my hand with your other hand,” you instruct, but move to do it yourself when the boy doesn’t seem to have it in him to reach for your palm himself. 

Your fingers interlock with his, making the boy chew on his bottom lip in a sudden flash of nerves. You’re standing so close he can smell your perfume, the scent making his head spin and feel lightheaded. If you made him turn in this moment, he’s sure he’d fall over, weak legs barely holding him up in your close proximity. 

“Sunwoo?” you ask, making the boy gulp before he hums in acknowledgement.

“You have to look into my eyes when you slow dance,” you laugh, the sound soft and airy, but enough to have his stomach feel all weird, like he’s about to throw up. Still, he forces himself to look into your eyes, instantly feeling like you’re hypnotizing him. (He’s convinced he’d jump out of his window right in this moment if you asked him to.)

“Okay,” he nods, standing still, maintaining eye contact. His body is stiff, muscles tense as you just stand there for a moment. Sunwoo battles his inner fight and doesn’t look at any other features of your face– he has a weird obsession with staring at your lips whenever you talk to him lately. He feels like a weirdo every time he catches himself doing it, so he tries to get rid of the bad habit as much as he can.

“Now, you just… kind of sway to the beat,” you say. The boy nods, but his body stays unmoving.

“There’s… there’s no music playing,” he gets out, watching as you chuckle, your lips stretching out into an adorable grin.

“Right,” you nod, sighing, “well, I’ll just… let me just…” you mumble before you start humming a tune– one that makes Sunwoo laugh from how ridiculous it sounds, the notes so unfamiliar to him he’s sure you’re making it up as you go. Before he knows it, you start moving, making him mirror your actions. 

It’s not as difficult as he thought it was, he thinks. You stare at him, all encouraging, as you sway from one foot to the other, nodding at him when you see that he’s following your lead well. Dancing with you suddenly feels like the easiest thing in the world, it feels like he was born to have you in his arms, in the middle of his room as you hum an unfamiliar song to him. He thinks going to the dance won’t be so bad– not if he gets to dance with you there for at least one more time.

“Doing well,” you smile, making the boy feel all warm on the inside. A feeling of victory flashes over him for a mere second. He beams in your considerate words, feels fuzzy under your warm gaze. He feels like he just won the lottery. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

A boyish grin appears on his face, having Sunwoo shaking his head at how both ridiculous and over the moon he feels right now. The stream of hums coming out of your throat cuts off for a second as you talk to him with an instructing tone, a warm gaze pressed into his features. “So you can either do this, or you can…” the hand that was holding his suddenly untangles itself from between his fingertips (and Sunwoo’s momentarily glad, because his palm was getting quite sweaty– although he admits that it does feel empty now that you’re not holding it), before you place his other hand on your waist as well. 

Something about the pose makes Sunwoo feel strangely intimate, a little bit bashful under your gaze. It only intensifies when your hands go up and entangle behind his neck, bringing you two even closer than before. The proximity has him blushing, red cheeks bringing heat to his face. He prays you don’t mention it– he really doesn’t know if he would be able to talk himself out of this one.

“Or you can do it like this,” you say before you lead the boy again, bodies swaying to an imaginary rhythm. You’re not even humming this time, having Sunwoo follow your movements in complete silence, his aimless movements mirroring your own. He’s surprised he hasn’t stepped on your foot yet when you decide to quickly teach him how to waltz (while also mumbling something about this dance being performed with the previous hand placement). He follows your orders– step forward, close, then another step backwards– and before he knows it, you’re leading him into a gentle turn, rising and falling in a ¾ count.

He’s getting lost in your voice– the softest “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,” helping him to stay in rhythm– before he’s pulled out of his trance as he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape, entangling yourself into his black locks. The motion has him look back up to your eyes (that have been previously glued to your feet, making sure he’s not stepping on your socked limbs), surprised when he sees you staring at him with a sweet smile playing with your lips.

Halting your movements for a bit, you let out a giggle and take him by surprise when your hand reaches up towards his bangs, ruffling his hair as he still holds you around your waist, the two of you almost hugging in his room. “See? Not that hard. You’re a born natural.”

His heart feels like it skipped a beat, a weird sense of panic enclosing around his chest. He doesn’t know what it is, not really knowing how to name the feeling, but it has him nervously smiling and urging him to escape you– escape your touch, escape your scent, your voice and the way you smile at him like you may feel the slightest ounce of the things he does for you, but refuses to accept on most days.

Rushed movements make him break apart from your grasp, quick breathing making him feel like he might spiral. 

“Hey! We weren’t done yet!” you call after him when he runs towards the door of his room. 

Not looking around, the boy gulps and nervously calls back to you, facing the door. “I’ll be back! I just have to pee!”

The door to his bathroom closes behind him with a loud shut. The boy doesn’t aim for the toilet– instead, he walks over to the sink, turning on the tap and splashing his face with ice cold water. When he’s done, feeling a bit less heated up, he looks up and stares at his face in the mirror. He gives himself some time to collect his thoughts, to hopefully let go of his foolishness.

How many more times will he have to remind himself that he only sees you as a friend?

to. my first date

January 2000

The snow crunches under his sneakers and makes Sunwoo slip on the cold surface– no wonder his mother screamed at him for not wearing his winter shoes before he went out with his friends. He bets it would be way less difficult to walk in the whiteness of the ground if he had more grip in the soles of his shoes, but oh well– he’s not really good at making clever decisions half the time. Nobody can really be surprised.

Somewhere along the way between the moment he’s interrogated his sister about the reason for her bad mood and the moment where he purposefully let her with his best friend at the top of the hill with no way out (he had a hunch the two of them had some things to talk about, from both of their uneasy demeanours for the last day), he realizes he lost both his sister and his best friend, and while he’s quite certain Eric can find his way home just fine, Sunwoo shivers at the thought of not bringing his sister home to his mother. He’s not quite sure he’d survive that. 

The quest of finding you both begins the moment the friend group reaches the top of the hill. Given his sister’s impulsiveness, she could’ve ran away from home, and that’s not what he wants to deal with on such a pretty winter day.

Sunwoo finds his plan being successful the moment he reaches the hot chocolate stand. The victory he feels after finding his younger sister alive and healthy is quickly overshadowed with the sight of his best friend’s face close to hers, very clearly going in for a kiss. He thinks he has to do something before he is permanently scarred with the image of them two making out right in front of his eyes as he gathers some of the icy texture into his hands and makes a ball, aiming straight at the head of his best friend.

The snow hits the both of them, right in the middle where their faces are supposed to meet. It’s not quite where Sunwoo was aiming, but he figures it’s good enough– it stopped his sister and his friend in the act, and that’s all he really cares about at this moment.

“Eric Sohn, what the fuck do you think you’re doing with my sister?” Sunwoo hollers, watching as his childhood friend takes off and leaves his sister alone on the bench to watch the conflict. The rest of the group follows with laughter as Sunwoo gathers more snow, tailing Eric and making sure the boy is punished for whatever he’s been doing.

It’s not like he disapproves. Not at all, actually. He just thinks it’s fun to mess with him a little.

“I didn’t mean to! Hey!” Eric cries out over his shoulder, trying his best to escape the frostbite. Karma is not on his side as he trips over something and falls to the ground, efficiently helping Sunwoo and the rest of their circle to corner the poor youngest, snow hailed on his limp figure. 

One would think the group of them were making a snowman with how they’re rolling the poor boy around in the snow. Juyeon and Donghyuck make sure there’s not a hint of skin unhidden by the ice, making Eric mourn and kick around– he’s left helpless, though, outpowered and outnumbered by his peers. If anyone unknowing was watching the scene, Sunwoo is sure he’d be framed for bullying.

He thinks it’s quite deserved. Why? He’s not really sure why. He just has a hunch.

“Okay! Enough!” Eric mumbles, shaking his head when Donghyuck tries to fit snow into his mouth. “I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!” he says, eyes opening wide as MB!Y/N appears somewhere behind her older brother, a teasing pout settled on her face.

“It won’t?”

“MB!Y/N– I– Just help me..?” the boy pleads, making the rest of the group laugh and finally relax, easing the attack. Juyeon hums something about young love, making the rest of the guys roll their eyes on his unusual cheesiness, before Donghyuck taps his teammate’s shoulder, making sure he’s paying attention to him.

Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at him, waiting for what he has to say. “Look, isn’t that Y/N?”

There are a few ways to catch Sunwoo’s attention. First– you have to mention football. He could spend hours on the topic of who’s the best player– Ko Jongsoo or Ahn Junghwan? If anyone asked him to write an essay on it, he’s quite certain he’d do a great job explaining their techniques and goal statistics for numerous pages. Second– you have to mention food. He’s a big fan of junk food, but ever since his friend Juyeon introduced him to their family bakery, he’s been a big cinnamon roll enthusiast. And third– you have to mention Y/N. 

Just the mention of your name is enough for the boy to stand alert, suddenly all too knowing of his surroundings. He turns his head to look for you, catching sight of your figure dressed in your long coat, standing all alone at the bottom of the hill. There’s an almost bored-looking expression on your face, although Sunwoo thinks there’s a bit of disappointment behind your eyes, making a cloud shade your them and make them lose their usual glimmer. That alone has the boy frowning, and before Donghyuck can say anything more or try to gossip about your sudden arrival, Sunwoo takes off– trying his hardest not to slip on the snow in his sneakers as he runs down the hill and tries his hardest to get to you quickly.

“Y/N!” he calls for you, getting your attention. You turn to him with expecting eyes, watching as the boy runs towards you and does, indeed, slip on the snow.

He manages to save it. Doesn’t mean you didn’t see him falter, though. “Careful there,” you grin, making the boy mentally kick himself in the shin at being uncool in front of you.

Sunwoo glosses over the comment, ignoring the previous two seconds of his life. If he acts like he’s not embarrassed, it might as well come true. “What are you doing here? I thought you said you’re hanging out with someone else when I invited you on the phone today,” he says, curious to know why you changed your plans so suddenly.

There’s a hint of bitterness in your composure when you shrug, averting your gaze. “That fell through, and I didn’t wanna… I figured you’d be here, so I came…” you trail off, your half-assed explanation enough to bring the boy into an inner conflict– one part of him feels bad for you, his heart clenching when he takes notice of your stern gaze and the disappointed expression on your face, the other one foolishly happy that he got to see you today, that you went here looking for him.

“Oh,” he nods, not really sure if he should pray more information out of you. He tried to ask you about it when he called you this morning, twirling the landline on his finger nervously when he asked you if you wanted to go sledding with him and his friends. He even mentioned his sister tagging along to make sure you didn’t feel as awkward going– you wouldn’t be the only girl there! You’d get along with her well, he said, not really sure if he was lying or not. Either way, his sister does need her own friends… “Well–” he starts, not really sure where his own sentence is going, before you cut him off with a rushed out sentence, spoken so quickly Sunwoo barely registers it in that confused brain of his.

“Would you wanna go on a date with me?” you ask, eyes big as you stare into his. 

The question takes a few seconds to register in Sunwoo’s brain. He can physically feel the auditory waves entering his ears and converting themselves into electrical signals by the auditory system. The signals enter his left hemisphere– maybe he could point towards the area with his finger if you asked him to, the impact of the question so present in his mind– and then it decodes in the Wernicke’s area, slowly, but surely making more and more sense to him. The boy gulps at the invitation. He understands the question theoretically now, he’s registered it in his brain, but the practical implication of your preposition is still unclear– why in the hell would you ask him to go on a date with you?

“I…” he stutters, feeling heat rushing to his cheeks. He feels like a fool– he should’ve said yes a few seconds ago, when you first asked the question– but something inside of him is telling him that maybe his reaction is valid. No one expects their friend to randomly ask them out on the bottom of a snowy hill. Certainly not when he was 99% sure you liked someone else.

“Look, it’s- it’s good if you don’t want to, really, I just… I was supposed to go on a date with Shotaro today, but he never arrived, and I…” you nervously scratch your neck, once again averting your gaze from him, “I guess I was hoping you were in the mood to go out with me, since I got all ready and stuff…” you mumble, your tone of voice breaking something inside of him.

Oh. So you weren’t really asking him out. You just didn’t want to feel like a fool that got stood up. How stupid of Sunwoo to think you wanted to go on a date with him. The two of you were just friends, after all. Best friends.

And best friends are for cheering each other up. So despite feeling absolutely defeated, Sunwoo battles the weird feeling in his chest and puts on his best smile. “Of course! Don’t even mention it. Where… where did you wanna go?” he asks, watching as your face relaxes, shoulders falling back to their natural position.

“Are you in the mood for some ramen?” you ask, eyebrows rising in question.

“I’m always in the mood for some ramen,” he nods. He’s always in the mood for whatever you are.

“Great,” you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Great.”

“So… let’s go,” you say, nodding to yourself as you walk away from the hill, having your best friend tailing you, following you towards the ramen place in the center of the town.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence hanging over you as the two of you escape the sledding area. Sunwoo doesn’t even pay his goodbyes to his friends and his sister, but he trusts that Eric can get her home safely when the time comes to head back. The boy mentally curses out Shotaro for standing you up– how does he dare to ask you out and never arrive? He doesn’t care about the possible circumstances of his classmate’s absence. All he cares about is the saddened look on your face and the unusual quietness enveloping your aura. 

“Should I go kick his ass?” he asks, trying his hardest to make you feel better.

“It’s okay, Sunwoo,” you shake your head in disapproval, eyes pressed to the ground.

“Are you sure?” he asks again, not satisfied with your answer. “I’m quite good at fighting, contrary to popular belief, but if things go wrong, I know my friends would have my back,” he says, playfully punching the air.

The little play consisting of him kicking and punching an imaginary figure goes on for a while until he’s satisfied– meaning: until you’re left laughing at his overly exaggerated movements and grunts, shaking your head in disbelief at his boyish antics. Taking his hand in yours to make him stop with the play-fighting, you drag your now interlocked fingers towards your coat pocket, hiding his cold hand in the thick fabric.

Sunwoo’s heart beats fast at that, making him believe it’s going to run out of his chest any minute now– or make him go into cardiac arrest, either or– as he grows speechless, looking at you with big, surprised eyes. You don’t seem to put much meaning to your gesture, going as far as gently caressing your thumb over the back of his palm, his frozen skin growing hot at the contact. 

He’s never held hands with you before– if he doesn’t count the amount of times you dragged him around when the both of you were late for the shared cheerleading and football practice on Tuesday afternoons– and so the intimacy of the act makes him feel strangely weak in his knees. It’s hard for him to take his eyes off you, almost looking like a deer in the headlights to anyone watching you two right now. Sniffling from the cold, you shrug.

“It’s okay,” you smile, sending him a quick glance, “I didn’t really like him like that anyway. It just… feels a bit disappointing to get stood up, that’s all,” you nod.

Sunwoo nods at that too, something in him shifting. You don’t like Shotaro like that? When was this piece of information when he really needed it? (For like the last month, every time he couldn’t fall asleep because the thought of you marrying his classmate at one point in the future haunted him too much and made him want to poke the dance club leader’s eyes out?)

“I get it,” he says, walking along with you. Every time he feels the eyes of someone on you two, he feels his chest filling up with an unfamiliar sense of pride. Something about being seen with you as you’re all dolled up and holding his hand in your coat pocket makes him all giddy on the inside– no matter if this is a real date or not.

Because screw it, Kim Sunwoo is tired of reminding himself that he’s supposed to only see you as a friend. Because he doesn’t.

“I’ve never been on a date before, though, so you have to teach me all about that too,” he hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek. 

That has a giggle escaping your throat, another shake of your head in disbelief at his words. He doesn’t know what’s so funny, but he decides that as long as you’re laughing, he’s fine with feeling the tiniest bit of humiliation. He’d do anything to make you happy, he thinks. It’s a feeling stronger than him and he doesn’t know how to make it go away– he decided to stop battling it a long time ago.

“Just be yourself, Sunwoo,” you say, “that’s already perfect enough.”

Perfect. Sunwoo’s cheeks grow hot at that. He’s happy that it’s cold out– maybe he could blame his blushing on the weather. The boy isn’t so sure you know about the effect your words have on him. He’s always thought of you as perfect– flawless, funny, friendly, smart, kind and… and beautiful– but the adjective doesn’t quite seem fitting when he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t believe you could hold him to such standards. He’s nothing special. God, he knows he’s not good enough for you– still, he keeps wishing he could be. 

“You look really pretty, by the way,” he hears himself say, the words escaping his mouth before he has the chance to stop them. The tone of his voice is quite unnatural in his ears, softer than it usually is, and somehow, the comment makes you roll your eyes, which he finds to be an unnatural reaction.

“You don’t have to say that just because you’re on a date with me,” you hum, eyes not meeting his. (Which might be a good thing. Sunwoo would like to keep his feelings hidden for a bit longer, and he’s not so sure you wouldn’t recognise the tender inkling he has towards you in his longing gaze.)

“I’m not saying it because of that,” he mutters, voice quiet, yet honest. 

Watching the side of your face, eyes still glued at every feature of your profile, he knows he’s not lying. He finds you oh so pretty even in the faint hue of the winter sun, with your scarf pulled up to the middle of your chin and hair pinned up with a pretty, silky bow. He finds you nothing short of angelic. Perfect. It’s kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.

Still, he can’t help himself. To this day, he counts the afternoon he spent with you, eating ramen at your favorite place, to be the first date he’s ever gone on.

Somewhere in the corner of his soul, he begs you count it as real too.

August 2007

It’s only a couple of days later when you find yourself in front of Juyeon’s father’s bakery, nervously chewing on your bottom lip and gazing at the glass door. The sun is shining strongly down on your skin, making you feel like you’re going to get a sun stroke if you keep standing in the direct light for any longer, and with the pressure of both the weather and your own thoughts, you decide to stop wasting time and push the door open, entering the establishment.

Not really sure if you’re welcome– who knows, Sunwoo might have just been acting nice and civil for the sake of not ruining his sister’s wedding– you prepared a mental shopping list of things you wanted to get at the bakery. You hadn’t seen your parents in a long time, so you thought a few donuts might make them happy. If Sunwoo just treats you like any regular customer when you walk in, you’ll take it as your sign to act like one and let this whole thing go. 

Truth be told, you don’t even know why you’re so nervous. It’s not like you’re promising yourself something more from this… right? 

It’s not like you suddenly felt younger again when seeing him at the wedding. It’s not like the memories choked you up when you went to sleep that night, it’s not like the feelings you had for the young boy suddenly waved at you in greeting, reminding you of just how close the two of you were all those years ago. 

Not at all. Why would anyone even think that?

The ring above the door makes a sound as you walk in, your insides clenching in a weird mix of nerves and anxiety at encountering Kim Sunwoo again. The store is empty when you reach the counter, but you’re soon greeted by the sound of the staff door opening, a tall figure stumbling in with a tray of pastries, yelling out a quick: “I’ll be right there!”

And as you watch Sunwoo with his bangs sticking to his forehead, an apron tied tightly around his thin waist, you feel like he hasn’t aged a single day and you two are still the same teenagers that ran around your school in order to not miss practice. The boy looks up at you from below his eyelashes, a boyish grin taking over his features as he puts the hot tray down on the counter and throws the kitchen towel he’s been using to shield his skin from the heat to the side, greeting you.

“Y/N! It’s nice seeing you again,” he beams, wiping his hands on his apron, gaze gluing to yours and never leaving, capturing you in a sincere eye contact that you don’t have the heart to break.

“Hi, Sunwoo,” you chuckle, pressing your lips into an honest, yet a little bit awkward smile. “How’s it going?” you ask, desperate to keep the conversation going– afraid that if it dies down, you won’t be able to revive it ever again and you’ll just regret it forever. There’s a weird sense of urgency in you, like you have a time limit to figure everything out– like you have to act now, or everything you ever wanted might slip from between your fingertips– yet, the more you watch Sunwoo in the serene atmosphere of the sweet-smelling bakery, you notice yourself relaxing.

“Good! Better now that you’re here, actually, it’s been a slow day,” he muses, nodding to himself. “What about you? Can I get you anything?” he asks, eyebrows raising, round cheeks on full display as he stares at you with an expecting smile.

“I’m doing well,” you nod, humming, “really well… catching up with my parents, settling in and stuff… You know the deal,” you laugh. “I actually came to get some donuts for my parents, sort-of like a thank you gift for letting me stay until I figure out my own place and stuff,” you say, watching as Sunwoo urgently nods with acknowledgement.

“Say less, darling,” the nickname slips out from him a little too easily, a little too casually for the way it captures your heart. It has you nervously shifting from one foot to another, insides warming up with the impact of his fleeting gaze as he moves to get a box from under the counter, moving closer to the glass vitrine filled with the sweet pastry. “Your mum loves these ones,” he points towards the donuts coated with the pink glazing.

It’s kind of weird– how Sunwoo knows exactly what your mother likes, despite him not being around your house every other day like when the two of you were teenagers. It makes you realize that even though you moved away for years, the time here didn’t stop. Everyone moved on with their lives, everyone continued on as if nothing happened. And you can’t hold it against them– you guess you just hate the weird pit in your stomach that opens up with the realization that while Sunwoo knows which pastries your mum likes (most likely because she stops by to buy bread often, taking some treats with her for her and dad while she’s at it), you don’t.

You try hard not to show it on your face, though. Sunwoo continues to pack more donuts into the box, not really attempting to ask you for what you’d like– he just chooses himself, making sure you bring home the best ones of the bunch, the most delicious ones they carry. Letting him do his work, merely watching as he carefully moves the donuts from the vitrine to the box, you hear him continue on with the conversation.

“You came in on the right day,” Sunwoo hums, “Juyeon works tomorrow, so you wouldn’t be able to catch me if you went.”

Ignoring the fact that he sees right through you– sees that your intention was to see him, to have a way to visit him and attempt to rekindle whatever bond you had when you were young– you just chuckle. You can’t blame him for knowing you so well, despite not being around each other for so many years. When you were young and in love, you used to call him your soulmate, after all. You guess there’s always a hint of truth, even in the most lovesick fantasies. “Well, then I’m glad I went in today,” you admit.

Sunwoo smiles at that– the kind of smile you always loved at him, the one where he shows his teeth and his eyes crinkle up into moon crescents. Once he’s done packing your donuts, he puts the box on the counter, showing you his back just as fast when he turns around, seemingly grabbing something else as well. When he’s facing you again, there’s a sweet pastry in his hand, still warm.

“What’s that?” you ask when you notice him offering it to you, eyes peering into his.

“A cinnamon roll,” he says, waiting for you to take it into your hands, “I told you everyone goes crazy over my cinnamon rolls, so I wanna see if their magic works on you too.”

“Is this how you flirt with girls over here?” you chuckle, but take the bun into your hand nonetheless, taking a hesitant bite of the treat. The sweetness melts on your tongue, the warmth of the freshly-baked pastry enchanting you with its taste, something about its essence weirdly reminding you of home. 

“Haven’t tried it before,” he shrugs, “so tell me if it’s working,” he jokes, watching as you chew on the roll. 

“Well, is it any good?”

Humming in satisfaction, delight on the tip of your tongue as you swallow down the heavenly dough, you nod. “It’s to die for, Sunwoo.”

“Told you,” he shoots you a cheesy finger-gun, reminding you so much of your best friend from high school, before he turns and takes a paper bag from somewhere, talking to you as his back faces you again, “I’ll get you some more to take home with you. I bet they didn’t have those in the Big Apple.”

“If I knew I was missing out on these, I would have come back quicker,” you joke, watching as Sunwoo turns to you with an amused look on his face, seemingly enjoying the praise.

The eye contact unarms you again, your composure falling just the slightest. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you clear your throat and reach for your wallet, ready to pay and leave so you can think about the interaction on your way home (and overthink every slightest detail, just like teenage you would after every fleeting touch young Sunwoo would send your way). “How much do I owe you?” you ask.

“Oh, it’s on the house,” he says, licking his lips, “consider it a… welcome gift, if you will,” he hums, offering you the box full of donuts and the paper bag consisting his infamous cinnamon rolls, your skin touching just the slightest when you take them from him, but still making electricity jolt through the nerve endings of your fingertips.

“No, Sunwoo, I really can’t-” you shake your head, but get caught off by him.

“Take them, please. You can pay me back some… other time?” he cautiously says, seemingly not really knowing if he’s still within your desired boundaries. 

“O-okay, then,” you nod, agreeing to the subtle invitation– the subtle promise to meet again, the hopeful question leading into something more. “Thank you, Sunwoo,” you hum, smiling as you turn towards the door and get prepared to walk out, giving both of you some time to think about what happened in the last few minutes.

As you open your mouth to say goodbye to him, hand landing on the doorknob, you hear him call after you once more.

“Oh and Y/N?” he says, a confident look suddenly overtaking his features. “I end here at 5, if you’d like to hang out after.”

Unknowingly, a grin appears on your features, the one that’s so strong you can’t really mask it no matter how hard you try– as you nod at him, the victorious feeling flowing through your veins maybe even a bit dangerous. Still, you don’t have it in you to turn the invitation down– you wouldn’t be able to even in your wildest dreams.

This is what you came here for, after all, isn’t it?

“Okay,” you agree. “So… I’ll see you later?”

“See you later,” he nods, teeth capturing his bottom lip. It’s kind of adorable. He couldn’t battle the smile threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.

Maybe coming here– coming back home– was the best thing you could’ve done.

“Wanna come in?” Sunwoo asks. It’s a few hours later– you followed through with his invitation and waited for him in front of the bakery at 5:05 sharp, catching him after his shift. You two took a walk through the whole town, waltzing slowly through his neighborhood until you reached his childhood house. You remember far too many afternoons spent in the comfort of the walls, and although you think it would be nice to revisit those memories, you notice his mother’s car (is it still hers? You have no way of knowing.) in the driveway, and suddenly, you’re too shy to join him as he drops his stuff off in his house.

It’s like you’re a teenager again– except, you never had any problems meeting his mother before. She was a nice woman, although a little busy (you only heard Sunwoo complain about the fact a few times– mainly when he was feeling sentimental or particularly under the weather about something), and she always treated you very nicely. Almost like you were supposed to join the family one day. His sister once asked you if you’re gonna marry him, and you laughed at her back then– you were so young, you didn’t even think of having a wedding with Kim Sunwoo. The funniest thing was the timing: you weren’t even dating him at the time. Or planning to, really. Sure, you always imagined somehow spending the rest of your life with him, in one way or another, but the thought of marriage didn’t often cross your mind. Life is ironic, you think– MB!Y/N was the first one to have a wedding and here you are, retangling your life paths with her brother again. 

So no, you were never really scared or shy in front of his mother. Back then, things were different though. Simpler? You’d say they were definitely easier. You were more extroverted and open, more ambitious and less embarrassed of how your life turned out to be.

Also, you didn’t want to give her any ideas. It’s far too soon for that, you think. 

“No,” you shake your head, hesitating a little bit, “I’ll wait for you here,” you say, watching as he smiles at you and nods, walking inside of the house to drop off his things and change.

You two didn’t really have any plans for the rest of the evening. You told Sunwoo he could show you around town, tell you what changed and what stayed exactly the same, since he came home earlier than you– you bet it could be two or three years ago. He eagerly nodded, although noted that not much is different in your hometown and your walk could turn out pretty uneventful. No plans were set in stone, though.

Nervously shuffling from one foot to another, you decide to walk around the yard. Sunwoo’s house was always big– although it seemed more giant to you when you were a teenager. It’s a strange observation, since you didn’t really grow any more inches since you hit puberty. Your eyes study the flowers in front of the gate, the mowed grass, the big tree in the backyard. If you focus hard enough, you could almost see the two of you laying under it, letting the leaves shield you from the sun, both much younger and carefree than now. Sunwoo would show you pages of his favorite comic books and you’d play on your Tamagochi, making sure it doesn’t die in two days like his did when he first got it. When you turn to your right, you see the garden house you two– sometimes with his sister, sometimes with Eric, sometimes with both of them at once– spent many afternoons in.

There used to be an old, red sofa inside. There wasn’t much space, since it was filled with gardening supplies, Sunwoo’s and MB!Y/N’s old bikes, flower pots, packs of soil and all other things you could need for gardening, but it was fun to hide away from the sun in there and drink iced tea, talking about whatever came to your minds or solving nanogram puzzles in comfortable silence (or occasional sigh from Eric when he got stuck somewhere in the middle of his crosswords).

Your curiosity gets the best of you when you open the door, deciding to see if it’s still the same inside. Your eyes widen when you notice the garden house a little less packed than before– mainly because Sunwoo’s mother no longer does gardening in her free time and buys her vegetables on the market like your mum does, you presume– but instead, it’s full of all the things the childhood you knew so well.

Sunwoo’s old bike– red and a little rusty, but you bet it could still work. The rug they used to have in their dining room is now in the middle of the little garden house, stained with dirt. Next to the usual red sofa is a leather armchair that they used to have in their living room for a while, the dark brown fabric now worn out, chapped and peeling off. In the corner of the room, you find a box filled with various sports equipment– tennis rackets, a yellow tennis ball, a jumping rope, and lastly, a half-deflated football. The sight of it has you sighing a little, reminding you of Sunwoo’s composure when he told you about how he never got to pursue his childhood dream fully. 

Your eyes glaze towards his old skateboard, having you chuckle, the memories of him riding it down the hill in front of his house appearing in your mind. Sometimes, he would be there with his sister and his childhood friend Eric as well (that more often than not let MB!Y/N borrow the board, watching her with lovesick eyes instead of riding it himself), the young boy trying to teach himself tricks he saw on the TV.

“Do you think I still got it?” you suddenly hear Sunwoo ask from behind your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. The male laughs at your shocked face, shaking his head in disbelief at your easily shaken composure. 

“You scared me,” you breathe out, clutching your chest for good measure, to show him how much you really mean it– your heart was racing, and contrary to popular belief, the sight of him in casual attire (a gray hoodie, so similar to the one he used to wear in high school, baggy Adidas sweatpants covering his legs) wasn’t the reason for the little heart attack.

“So did you!” he exclaims. “I got outside and didn’t see you there, I thought you ran away for a second,” he hums.

“As if,” you mumble, “I walked all the way here, why would I leave so suddenly?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs, “you could’ve changed your mind, or something,” he says, his composure suddenly as boyish as when he was just a teenager, something in your heart softening. You guess he sometimes still carries some of the same insecurities he tried so hard to mask when he was young. Some things don’t really change, but you really wish at least this would’ve.

Smiling at him, you shake your head. “I don’t think you still got it, though,” you go back to reply to his initial question, pointing towards the skateboard.

“Well, who knows,” he peeps, “maybe I could do an Ollie, or something.”

“I really don’t think you could, Sunwoo,” you laugh softly, watching him regain his statement competitiveness.

“Wanna bet?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I don’t want you to break your bones, so let’s just say I believe you,” you giggle, watching as the boy mirrors your expression, his gaze softening. 

A short moment of silence overtakes you two as you sigh and look around the garden house, instinctively taking a seat on the red sofa covered in dust. You bet it’s been years since anyone’s sat on it, and you’re glad to be the one revisiting its comfort. It’s like solidifying your return– like the old piece of forgotten furniture in Sunwoo’s garden house is the spawn point of your childhood. “Doesn’t this make you nostalgic?” you ask, eyeing your companion.

“Well, I live here,” he shrugs, “so not as much as it makes you, I suppose. Having you here again makes it more nostalgic, though, I’ll give you that.”

His words have you overcome with something bittersweet. Seeing the town you love so much makes you almost regret you ever left. The rational side of your brain reminds you that you gained a lot of experience abroad, though, and so you settle with being just a little bit remorseful of your past self for being so overly-ambitious. 

“It’s weird,” you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him, the essence of him being your best friend– your first love, the first person you ever felt safe with– overtaking you in the moment of weakness, “it’s like everybody moved on, but I stayed here.”

“Well, not everybody moved on,” Sunwoo hums, referring to himself. “Juyeon stayed, too. Eric and MB!Y/N are moving only a few hours away… Haknyeon lives down the street now,” he points out, a poor attempt at making you feel better.

“Yeah… it’s just… I hoped I would do big things. I hoped we would both do big things,” you say, tone of voice quiet, your eyes avoiding him. It’s hard to keep eye contact with him when you share your struggles– at least that’s the way it always was when you were young. The look he offered you always made you feel so tender, so cared for that you wanted to burst out crying. In your age and state, you can’t afford to tear up in front of your ex-boyfriend anymore.

“Sometimes, things don’t work out the way we want them to,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice considerate. “And that’s fine. I wanted to be a star, and I’m not, but that’s okay, because hey… I’m happy anyway. I’m content. And I know that one day, you’ll be too. It just takes a bit of time.”

Snickering, you play with your fingers in your lap, legs plopping up and crossed, striking an almost defensive pose. “Were you… were you embarrassed when you came back?” you ask.

Sunwoo laughs, the sound so heartfelt it makes your insides squeeze. “Terribly. I mean, look at me in my mid-twenties, still living with my mother. Even back then, I felt like a failure. I felt like a disappointment, but… then I realized not everyone had the opportunities I had. Not everyone almost made it professional, you know, and that’s still something to be proud of.”

“I’m still living with my mother, but hey– she’s getting older and the house is big. MB!Y/N moved out, and I wouldn’t want my mum to get lonely… so I think I’m doing pretty well, given the circumstances,” he says. Pausing for a heartbeat, as if collecting his thoughts, he continues. “I think you should find the positives in your situation too. Not everyone got to live in New York... Work for the national TV… That’s still a huge achievement, and I think you should be proud of yourself for that.”

Rolling your eyes– although grateful to hear the words– you snicker. “It’s hard to do that right now…”

“I know,” he nods, smiling when you finally look at him. “It takes time. And until then, well, for what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you. And maybe… maybe you coming back home is how life’s supposed to go anyways.”

Biting down on your lower lip to stop yourself from tearing up– see, you knew you shouldn’t have looked the boy in the eyes during his little pep talk– there’s suddenly a weight leaving your shoulders, heart softening and growing more tender. Your wounds seem to sting a little less. It’s strange– even after so many years, he still knows just the words you need to hear.

“Yeah,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper, a soft smile playing with your lips, “maybe.”

to. my first kiss

March 2000

His eyes stay glued to the TV in your living room, the boy almost looking hypnotized as he focuses on the program running, furrowed brows and all, showing his utmost concentration. A sigh lands into his ears, but goes unnoticed when you enter the room, a scowl sitting on your face. “Sunwoo! I told you to watch the oven! What if the cookies burn?”

“Yeah…” he mumbles, not a single word coming out of your mouth truly registering in his brain.

“Sunwoo!” you grunt, but when you get no reply, you just choose to roll your eyes and walk into your kitchen yourself, opening the oven and making sure the cookies you two have been baking haven’t burned down into coal yet. Not long after, you plop on the sofa next to your best friend, tone of voice still showing a bit of frustration at his carelessness.

“You shit on Eric for watching those, but you’re just as bad,” you hum as you notice the kdrama going on in the TV. It’s one of the ones that hardly make any sense and each scene is overly-exaggerated and repeated at least twice to create impact, but Sunwoo finds himself living for the drama. Each argument has him examining the scene, mentally rooting for his favorite characters– and although he is busy with football practice nowadays, he doesn’t skip a single episode of Happy Together. 

It’s not as entertaining as the manga comics he borrows from Hyunjae’s father’s comic shop, but he figures that it’s good enough to pass some time… and indulge over.

“I think they’re gonna kiss,” he notes, pointing towards the screen.

“Oh, good point, Sherlock Holmes,” you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. If there was something you’d expect out of your friend, it seemingly wasn’t his enjoyance of cheesy dramas that air in the afternoon hours of the week. 

And Sunwoo admits, he was never the one to enjoy romance. Hell, it was something he always made fun of when it came to his friend Eric– he was not the one to watch romantic comedies, he wasn’t the one to tell girls cheesy lines or bring them flowers on Valentine’s day. He does seem to be enjoying the laughable scenes rolling on the TV a little too much lately, though.

Maybe he should start hanging out with Eric less.

The scene slowly transforms into close-ups of the two main characters, showing them instinctively closing their eyes and leaning towards each other, eyes trained on each other’s lips. It doesn’t take much to predict the next actions, but Sunwoo still finds himself restless in his seat when they finally kiss, legs kicking up and a gasp escaping his mouth. One would think he won the lottery or was just greeted with the greatest surprise ever, with how he’s reacting. None of the two are true, though.

“Oh, wow,” you hum next to him, seemingly not really interested in the drama as much as your best friend is.

“You’re ruining it,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you as you roll your eyes and settle deeper into the couch cushions. 

“Oh, sorry,” you note, but your composure stays a bit annoyed. 

Sunwoo watches the TV for some more– the scene of the two characters kissing stays on the screen, slowed-down and repeated, in the true 90s TV show fashion– before his eyes trail off the device and move towards you, glazing your side profile. He takes notice of your casual attire– you changed out of your school uniform in the time he was supposed to watch the cookies baking in the oven, and something in his stomach churns, making him blurt out the random question that so suddenly appears on the tip of his tongue.

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” he asks, genuinely curious. He doesn’t even know why the response matters to him so much– he also doesn’t really know what reply he’d like to hear better, if he’s being honest– but now it’s out in the open and he can’t take it back.

“Hm?” you hum, snapping your head towards him. “Oh. Yeah, I guess…”

“You guess..?” Sunwoo repeats, furrowing his brows. How can one not be sure? 

“Well– yeah. It only happened once, though,” you shrug. It takes everything in Sunwoo to not ask who you kissed and when, or under what circumstances, and decide to despise that person until the day he dies. It’s not his business and he shouldn’t even care in the first place… He can’t say he’s disappointed in your answer– it’s your life and your decisions– but something inside of him screams that now, he can’t be your first no matter how hard he’d try. (It’s not like you’d want to kiss Sunwoo anyway, so he really doesn’t know why he’s making such a big deal about it.)

“What about you?” you ask, the question catching the poor boy off guard. He didn’t necessarily expect you to ask him back– so much to his title of Sherlock Holmes– and the reality that he can’t lie to you takes him out in full force as he bashfully stares out of the window.

“No,” he peeps, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

There’s something embarrassing about admitting to the girl you like that even at the ripe age of 19, you’ve never kissed anyone before. Shame creeps up his neck and adorns his cheeks after the simple word slips out of his mouth, eyes refusing to meet yours.

“Really?” you ask, and you sound genuinely surprised– there’s a hint of Sunwoo’s ego recovering, but he thinks the hit was too hard for him to ever recover.

“Yup,” he says, a popping sound heard as his lips voice out the last consonant, the view of him playing with his own fingers suddenly more interesting than anything else happening in your living room right at this moment.

“I thought– nevermind,” you hum, scratching the back of your neck, “why are you asking?”

“Just… just curious, I guess…?” he stummers, shrugging. 

A moment of silence overtakes you two– enough to make the boy instantly hate everything he’s ever said on the matter. If there could open up a hole in the ground right now to swallow him, he’d jump in with much enthusiasm. Why did he have to ask?

“Do you wanna try?” you suddenly propose, making the boy’s heart feel like it burst and threw him into a cardiac arrest. His hands start sweating, his cheeks tint red and it feels like all oxygen was suddenly sucked out of the living room, his lungs collapsing on themselves.

You seem to try to save the situation, noticing the utter shock on his face. “I mean– you don’t have to, but I… I wouldn’t mind, and it’s– I don’t know… if you wanted to practice with me, or something, I’d be down to…” you stutter, chewing on your bottom lip as you finish the little tangent, terror evident in your eyes.

Sunwoo feels like a little boy that just found his favorite gift under the Christmas tree. Like he found the most pricey toy there, the one he always wanted, and now that it’s there, he’s scared to actually play with it, because he doesn’t want to break it. Much like your friendship, he thinks. There’s too much to lose if he crosses this line, and he’s very much aware. 

But the offer seems tempting. Almost too tempting. God, he doesn’t think he could say no.

He may not be your first kiss, but you’re asking to be his. This sounds like a dream, if he really thinks about it.

“You know what? Just forget–”

“I’d– I’d like that…” he mumbles, trying really hard not to avert his gaze from you.

Your gaze softens, nodding your head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“Okay,” you nod again, moving a little closer to him. Your knees knock into the side of his thigh, your whole figure now facing him on the sofa as his legs still point forward to the TV. He keeps staring at you, a little nervous, but expectant. “Are you sure? You don’t have to do it just because–”

“I’m sure,” he cuts you off, watching as your face relaxes, a smile appearing on your lips at the next addition. “I want to.”

“Okay.”

You move impossibly closer, your crossed legs in contact with his clothed skin. He curses the thin fabric of the pants of his school uniform for making him feel every slightest flex of your muscles when you move, making his skin flare up and burn. He keeps staring at you, watching you as you lean closer to him, your faces now inches away from each other. Sunwoo finds himself focusing on every feature of your face, counting the eyelashes framing your eyes, glazing over the sparkles in your orbs. You stay close for a minute, unmoving. 

Eyes locking, Sunwoo finds himself gasping a little, breathing shuddering when he notices your gaze falling to his lips. Your breathing mixes, air meeting his face when you breathe out a minty breeze. His heart is already racing and you’re not even doing anything.

When he finds you finally moving towards him and notices your eyes shutting close, he mirrors your actions, but stays unmoving. After what feels like eternity, he feels something soft pressing to his lips, warmth spreading from that part of his face to the rest of his body. The contact of your lips with his is gentle, like you’re testing the waters, and although the feeling is unfamiliar, Sunwoo decides he doesn’t hate it.

The weird firework show in his stomach actually suggests that he’s quite enjoying it. Your lips break away from his for a bit, rewarding him with only a peck, and before the boy has the chance to think this is it and it’s over, you dive in for more and kiss him again, this time longer, more firmer.

Your hands come up to cradle his cheeks, holding him close. He feels himself burning up, his composure completely crumbling when he feels you smile against his lips. 

“You know you can kiss back, right?”

“Mhm,” he hums, opening his eyes to see you staring at him with a tender look.

“Try it,” you say, hands gently coming up to brush his bangs away from his face. If anyone was looking at the two of you now, Sunwoo thinks they’d conclude that you two were in love.

And maybe Sunwoo was, by the way he was looking up at you like you hung the stars on the sky. By the way he was staring at you with such a vulnerable look he feared you might see right through him, see right to his core and call him out on every unconfessed word hiding in his heart. He looks a little scared, a little tense, still, but his eyes don’t lie. They never do. There’s no one else that could make him feel the way you do.

“Okay,” he nods, moving in his position so he’s facing you, ready for more. 

He mirrors your previous motions, leaning towards your face. He wets his lips and closes his eyes when he’s sure he’s close enough to not miss your mouth, and after another deep breath in to calm his nerves, he presses against you. He feels you freezing under him, a momentary panic spreading all over his chest as he thinks he’s done something wrong, before he feels you kissing him back.

A whole other sensation takes over him when he feels your lips moving against his, his fingertips buzzing when he drags his hand up and moves your hair behind your shoulder, large hand resting on your jaw. He’s not sure if he’s doing this correctly– hell, he’s never done this before– but after you move a bit and entangle your hands behind his neck, pressing against him a bit more firmly, yet still tender and gentle like the first time, he recognises that somehow, it feels right, and he thinks that’s all evaluation he needs for now.

The need for oxygen makes him break away from you, breathing heavily as he opens his eyes and finds you resting your forehead against his, smiling. “Like that?” he asks, shamelessly staring at your wet lips, already yearning for more.

“Something like that,” you nod, giggling. “You still need more practice, though,” you suggest, making the boy frown.

“Was it that ba–”

Rolling your eyes at him, frustrated at the way he always needs everything spelled out for him, refusing to take a hint, you press your lips against his again, teeth clashing a little when Sunwoo picks up the pace and kisses you back. The TV is a mere white noise in the background now, everything around you two disappearing, all of Sunwoo’s senses focused on you and only you. He could get lost in the way you taste– like strawberry bubblegum you bought at the store on the corner of the street– and the way you feel against him– soft, tender, warm.

He feels like he could burst. He knows his hands are a bit sweaty, but he’s only half aware of the fact when his palms move to hold your cheeks, much like you did to him before, and your hands entangle in his hair, playing with the strands.

He could stay like this forever, blissfully unaware of the consequences of this act. He could kiss you over and over and over again, even if it meant he was still bad at it and needed more practice– he could get lost in your scent, in the tender way you hold him to you, in the way you keep smiling against his lips whenever he does something to surprise you: like get a little bolder and angle your head by your chin with his thumb, getting more comfortable.

He’s glad he’s sitting down, because he’s quite sure his knees are too weak to carry him right now. When you break away from him again, lips swollen and eyes blown-out, he thinks you might just be an angel. He’d love to engrave this image into his memories forever.

Although, he’s doubtful that he could ever forget about this. Or anything about you, really.

And even as you suddenly gasp, finally aware of the world around you, running to the kitchen and screaming: “Sunwoo! We forgot about the cookies!”,

he wonders just what more you could teach him about life. He’d follow you to the end of the world if you asked him to, holding your hand in his and not thinking twice. He’d bring you down a star, if you only so expressed you would like one. He’d do anything. 

You taught him what friendship is. You taught him what it means to care for someone. What it means to have someone special. You taught him how to drink (although by scolding him when he was hungover. He felt cared for even with your stern gaze). You taught him how to slow dance– even though you spent the prom with someone else. Just now, you taught him how to kiss.

And although you’re unaware, he’s quite certain that when he’s 19 years old, spending each of his days with you, although unaware, you taught him how to love someone too.

August 2007

You feel kind of silly, standing in front of the bakery as the sun sets over the horizon, the clock striking near 5 in the afternoon as you gnaw on your fingernails and hesitate a little before coming in. Pushing the door open and slipping inside, the male currently sweeping the floor looks over at you, a look of pleasant surprise sitting at his face and a sunny smile sent your way upon your arrival.

You don’t really know why you keep running back to him. The whole town reeks of familiarity to you, every corner and inch of each street filled with the essence of your childhood and your whole growing up. It’s not like you don’t have anything else to ground yourself back to, but somehow, your inner voice always keeps calling for Sunwoo. It’s weird– it’s been ages and you shouldn’t feel like this around someone who you haven’t even properly dated for that long, if you don’t count the few months before he left– but it’s something you can’t control, an essence you can’t hold back. 

“Y/N,” he calls for you, “what are you doing here?” he asks as he continues his routinal cleaning, putting the broom away behind the counter. 

It’s a stupid question. You bet he realizes it too, but you’re somehow glad he is taking initiative. This way, you don’t have to be the first one to spark the conversation. This way, you know you’re welcome. 

“Oh, well,” you shrug, “I’m… looking for you…?” you say, tone of voice suggesting that you’re hesitant, almost a little shy to admit it to yourself. 

Maybe you’re foolish for feeling this way. Because you know what all those things mean– you know what the lightness in your stomach is, what the giddy feeling resonating through you whenever the male smiles at you is. You know that thinking about someone constantly, more so before you sleep, isn’t an usual occurrence with someone you pay no attention to, with someone you don’t care about. You’ve been in love before– with the same man that’s standing right in front of you as well, funnily enough. You know what this all means.

But with how he’s inviting you in, letting you into his little bubble, you think it’s not as bad of a thing. He’s not pushing you away. He’s not building bridges. He’s the same way he was all those years ago, and you’d hate to find out that all of this wasn’t something more and was just him being nice.

“Well, that’s good to hear,” he chuckles, wiping his hands on the apron still tied around his waist. “I’m off in a few, though, so if you want anything from the bakery–”

“I’m not here for the food,” you laugh, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. The boldness is unusual for the present you– there’s a hint of your past shining through whenever you are with the boy, though. Maybe you like this sense of familiarity. Maybe you like to feel real again– maybe you like to feel like yourself. It’s hard to admit it, but you did lose your sense of identity after moving abroad. It’s hard to stay true to yourself with so many new people around and with so many expectations and responsibilities. The pressure changes you, and you now rely on Kim Sunwoo to bring you back to default– to where you’re supposed to be.

“Okay, then,” he nods, thankfully not making a big deal out of your desperate visit, “what would you like to do?” he asks, eyes sparkling under the lights when he looks at you. It’s like an open invitation– he gives you the chance to tell him how you’d like to spend your time with him. He did this a lot when you two were younger as well. It felt good to have someone that would make the effort to enjoy your hobbies with you– no matter how disinterested he could be in the matter.

“Hang out… I guess…?” you hum, shrugging. You didn’t really have anything planned. All you knew was that you wanted to be with him. It’s like the heart’s calling– you don’t know when your inner monologue got so cliche.

“Anything specific?” he asks.

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you shake your head in disapproval. You fear that you disappointed him, let him down in some way– you came all the way here, after all. You could’ve made something up on the way, couldn’t you? But still– just like the Sunwoo you once knew, so lively and full of ideas– he just purses his lips for a second before speaking the suggestion into existence.

“Well… do you want to bake with me? Like the old times?” he says, sending you a look full of warm honey.

You wouldn’t say no to that invitation. You’d be crazy to do so.

The Kim Sunwoo you used to bake cookies with in the comfort of your kitchen back home wasn’t so skilled in making the dough like he is now. He wasn’t so good at knowing the recipe from memory, nor was he gifted with the kitchen appliances he has now, all professional and shiny, reserved just for the use of the bakery. You don’t really know if he even had the love for baking in him back then– you just know you two enjoyed your time together, and when you are young, that’s all you really cared about anyway. It didn’t matter that he let the cookies burn sometimes. It didn’t really matter that they didn’t turn out well on some days– all morphing into one big block, making you cut the dough into pieces so you could eat it when you accidentally added too much butter. 

He still looks the same, though. A few years older, but with the same boyish aura to him when he wipes dirty hands on his apron. All grown up now, but still with the same glint in his eye whenever he looks up at you in between your conversations. When you’re with him, you no longer feel the distance between who you are and who you used to be, the distance between you and him. It’s like the old days, but a little better.

Maybe you have more time now.

The two of you work on the cookie dough, enveloped in a comfortable conversation. “You have to add more sugar,” Sunwoo hums from next to you, watching as you work on the mixture.

“Isn’t it funny how I was the one always giving you directions when we baked together and now you’re the one ordering me around?” you laugh, taking the sugar from the counter and sprinkling more in, listening to the opinion of a professional.

“Well, my cookies don’t turn into one big blob of dough anymore,” he jokes, laughing. “Besides, it’s my job now, so you’d kind of expect me to be good at it.”

“You can’t be so sure of that…” you hum, shaking your head.

“Why? Do you have any experience with being bad at your job?” 

“Oh you bet I do,” you laugh, nodding. “I was an intern before, Sunwoo. A colleague of mine once tried to console me by saying being an intern means being bad at the job, so it wasn’t that big of a deal, but I still cried myself to sleep multiple nights,” you conclude, thinking back to your New York endeavors.

“That bad?” Sunwoo asks empathetically.

“Yeah. Mixed up everyone’s coffee order on my first day. When I was confronted about it, I tried to play it off by saying I don’t have a good memory…” you muse.

“Well, it’s hard to remember a lot of stuff at once, to be fair–”

“I was getting coffee for three people, Sunwoo. Objectively speaking, it shouldn’t be as hard…” you say, now thinking back to the events of your internship with more humor than embarrassment.

Sunwoo laughs at your story, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not worse than my teammate back in Boston. The first match of the season, he scored a goal against our own team. His reasoning? He used to play against the goalie back in high school, so he got confused.”

The boy takes over at making the dough once it’s the turn to add in the chocolate chips, glancing at you momentarily when you laugh at his anecdote. Watching him from the side, you heave out through your laughs. “That’s actually hilarious,” you get out, washing your hands in the sink. “What about some funny stories about yourself, though?”

“Don’t have any. I’m too perfect to humiliate myself like that,” he notes, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows at you in an ironic expression, nodding.

“Oh, as if–”

“How is it?” he asks you suddenly in the middle of the sentence, seemingly done with kneading the mixture. Sunwoo puts the cookie dough in front of your lips, waiting for you to taste it. You’d do it all the time when you were both teenagers, but back then, the gesture didn’t feel half as intimate as the mere image of it does now.

Locking eyes with the male, you hesitantly open your mouth and let him put the dough into it, tasting the sweetness on your tongue. Sunwoo’s eyes darken, as if he’s just realized what he’s done, the weight of the situation falling down on him as your tongue comes in contact with the skin of his fingertips. Gulping, he watches as you suck the tip of his digit into your mouth, getting all last remains of the sweetness off of it, something in the air shifting towards a direction you didn’t expect from tonight.

“Good,” you nod, licking your lips, “delicious.”

Seconds turn to what feels like eternities as you stop all motion and look into each other’s eyes, finding any hint of disapproval with the so obvious turn of events. His chocolate orbs peer into yours, making you ignite with something close to an urge you can’t control, his eyes anchoring themselves to the curve of your lips when you decide to let go of all anxiety and insecurities and just go for it. The cookie dough was sweet, but you’ve never tasted anything sweeter than Sunwoo’s lips. You might just have to refresh your mind, you think.

Leaning closer to him, your breathing mixing in the few centimeters left between your mouths, you relish in the déja vu this action brings you. It feels like yesterday, yet also centuries ago since you last kissed the male, and although you’re sure you enjoyed it back then, you wish you could’ve told the younger you to kiss him more often, more firmly, with more passion, maybe even sooner. For longer. 

Pressing your lips against his first, almost like always– since Kim Sunwoo was a bit shy with his kisses when you were both just high school seniors– your eyes shut close and everything around you disappears. You guess there’s something about baking that makes the two of you want to feed off each other’s lips– except this time, it’s not practice anymore. It’s not innocent, it’s not clueless. This time, it’s real, alive and passionate. You can’t say you hate the sentiment, the weird parallel your relationship has come to. It’s like you’re reliving your life again, but this time, you know how the story ends– you know how to fix the ending. How to keep him here.

Sunwoo’s more experienced than he was when you kissed him for the first time. He’s less shy and more bold, lips firmer against yours, but still careful and gentle. His hand comes up to cradle your jaw and position you so he has the best access to your mouth as he slips his tongue in, as if chasing down the taste of cookie dough he fed you just a few seconds ago, and although you liked to battle him when you were young, you let him win this time– you let him take you home, bring your mind to where it’s supposed to be.

Hands gripping the front of his shirt, but immediately going to circle around his neck when a particular movement of his makes you moan slightly into his mouth, you play with the hair on his nape and feel him shuddering under your movements, an automatic response that makes fondness spread over your chest. Everything about him is familiar to you– he still reacts the same way to your tender ministrations, he still smiles against your lips when you tangle your fingers through his hair and want to ground yourself in the touch. 

You know him like the palm of your hand. It’s easy to get lost in something you are so familiar with, in someone that was once your everything. It’s easy to indulge too much in something that was forcefully taken from you, to get right back where you left with him, because time and circumstances were never on your side.

A touch of his hand on the side of your neck, lips trailing down your mouth towards your jaw. The boldness, the urgency of his movements is enough to have you turn your back against the counter, his body pressed tightly against yours. His palms under the backside of your knees have you sitting up on the cold marble, his lips never breaking away from your skin. 

You’re enjoying the shift in the dynamic. You’re enchanted with the way he handles you, like he’s been starved of you for years, wanting to chase down all the time you spent away from each other. Breathing heavily, feeling his plush lips sucking down on the sweet spot under your ear, then trailing down the side until he reaches the juncture of your neck, an involuntary “God…” slips past your mouth.

“I missed you,” he says, words muffling against your skin, “I missed you so much, I felt like I was going crazy.”

The confession makes you dizzy, your whole body growing weak. It’s like he knows exactly what words you wanted to hear. It’s like he knows what haunted you all those years, what you kept asking the universe on sleepless nights over and over, praying for an answer. It’s like he knows exactly how to get you close to him, to have you completely let go of the past. 

“I missed your jokes,” he says, planting a kiss on your neck. “I missed your smile,” he presses another one a little more up, “I missed your laugh,” another kiss, now on your jaw. “I missed holding your hand,” a peck planted to the corner of your lips, “and I missed kissing you…” he trails off, pointing his attention back on your mouth, locking the two of you together again, as if kissing you was his new addiction and you were the drug.

Sunwoo’s hot hand creeps up your waist, fingers slipping under the thin fabric of your tank top. The contact makes you shiver in response, your bodies still as responsive to each other as back when you were 19, and when you tug at his bottom lip with your teeth and slip your tongue back into his mouth, you feel the boy tug at the right strap of your top, sliding it down your shoulder. You’re barely registering the bowl of dough to your right, the fact that you’re in the kitchen of Juyeon’s parent’s bakery, or the fact that you only just met the boy two weeks ago for the first time in years. All you focus on is him– his touch, his taste, the way he makes you feel. All you know is longing. The desire.

Before you have the chance to take anything further, the sound of the door opening makes you jump away from each other– your head almost hitting the top cabinets, had Sunwoo not instinctively put his hand there to shield you from the impact. Before you get a chance to register what’s happening, a familiar voice calls for you, their tone a little guilty and bashful. 

“Oh, I didn’t mean to interrupt, or anything–” Juyeon peeps, clearing his throat. 

Glancing at Sunwoo, you see his cheeks redden at being caught by his older friend, yet his eyes still roll in annoyance at the interruption. You can’t help but try to hide your face into his shoulder– it’s not like you’re embarrassed of being with Sunwoo, you’re just embarrassed that it had to happen here, of all places.

“Well, you just did,” Sunwoo grunts, frustration coating his words.

“I’m just here to grab something,” Juyeon hums, almost racing through the room to get to the fridge on the other side of the kitchen, taking out a carton of milk from the inside and showing it to the two of you. “This is gonna go bad soon, so I’m taking it home to use it. Uhm.. anyways, well, don’t let me stop you in anything… bye!”

Neither of you greet the male back, instead sharing a meaningful, knowing look between each other. The view of your first boyfriend with his lips puffy, cheeks flushed and hair a little disheveled makes your senses go crazy, and although you’d like to continue what you started, you don’t think now is the right time or place.

Hopping off the counter, you smile. “So… where were we with the cookies?”

to. my first girlfriend

May 2000

Eyes trained on the ball, feet restless as he runs across the field to retrieve it and pass it to one of the shooters– either Donghyuck or Jinyoung, the more capable ones of the team– Sunwoo finds himself completely focused on the game. It’s one of the last matches of the season, and since he doesn’t know if he’s ever going to play his favorite sport again– he hasn’t received a verdict on the university applications he sent yet– the boy figures he should enjoy each game like it’s the last. Because who knows– one day, it may as well be, and if he’s not prepared for it, if he has any regrets, he knows he’ll take it harder than he’s supposed to.

Kim Sunwoo’s position in football is midfielder. While Eric once told him that it’s a loser position, since he’s not the shooter and he doesn’t score many goals (which is a lie– the boy had him know he scored his fair share despite his defensive position on the field), Sunwoo’s grown to love it. He’s the one that’s supposed to counter all attacks on his teammates. He’s the one that runs after the ball and passes it to the shooters, so technically, he’s the reason why any of them even have the opportunity to score. His position is as important as any other player's, and he takes pride in the compliments he gets from his coach whenever he does particularly well at a game. 

Sunwoo loves football. He’d say his first love is football, but something inside of him keeps telling him that that’s a lie (don’t ask him why. It’s a secret.). It’s the first game he’s ever been exceptionally good at, the first thing he could do for periods longer than a few weeks. He’s been playing with the ball since he was young, and although he never had a father to kick the football around with in his backyard, his sister was always happy to be included in anything he was into at the time– when she got older, she even got better at being his designated goalie, although less interested in the play itself. Sunwoo feels like he lets go of all worries when he plays. It’s good to have an escape, something to keep his mind occupied. He doesn’t have many things to worry about, but he finds that kicking the ball around, making strategies in his brain on how to get it to his teammates the fastest, is enough for him to get out both his frustration and get something nice out of it. He enjoys the thrill. He enjoys the excitement, the shared joy of the team whenever someone scores a goal. He is addicted to the ecstasy in his veins whenever his team wins.

It was easy to determine that if Sunwoo wanted to do anything for the rest of his life, it would be football. It’s what he enjoys, what he loves. It’s what he’s good at. 

It’s strange to imagine a time when he wouldn’t play football. He doesn’t even want to imagine it in the first place– it makes a chill run down his spine and an unsettling feeling churn in his stomach. In a perfect world, he’s always a football player.

Everyone keeps telling him he could easily make it professional, if he tried. 

Football is how he met most of his friends. It’s how he met Juyeon– he was the captain of the high school team when Sunwoo was a sophomore, and he found that hanging out with the older boy was easy and fun. It’s how he met Donghyuck and Jihoon (before the latter dropped out of the team after a few months). It’s how he met you. 

His coach always warned the players about dating the cheerleaders. For his coach, it wasn’t right to do so– it would throw off the dynamic of the game. “Nobody wants their ex to stare at them during their game!” the coach had said– not even thinking of the possibility of any of those teenage romances to last. Sunwoo only laughed back then. It wasn’t something he should be afraid of– he never liked anyone on the cheer team.

Until… until he did. Sunwoo met you on one sunny day, at your joint cheer-slash-football practice. You pointed out that the number on his jersey– 03– was your favorite, and the boy felt himself smile. Ever since then, he never wore any other number. He considered it to be his lucky charm. What started as friendship blossomed into something much more for the boy, and somehow, he can’t even remember when the feelings he had for you morphed into adoration. He doesn’t know when they shifted Into absolute enchantment, or Into a silly crush– he doesn’t know when he started seeing you in a light that was more romantic.

Wearing your favorite number on his back, Sunwoo runs towards the opposing player. There’s something akin to an angry face playing with the man’s features, and Sunwoo imagines it’s because of the very clear lead his team has on them. Sunwoo makes sure he doesn’t slip as he tackles the opposing player– he swears he heard someone call the shooter Jaechan– and as soon as he secures the ball, Sunwoo aims to forward it to his teammate.

The screams resonating all around him– although he tries hard to filter them out to focus on the game completely– suggest that it’s only a few moments before the game is over. It wouldn’t matter even if they didn’t score the goal, but something inside of Sunwoo’s heart leaps at the thought of winning with such a lead. The boyish excitement only grows when he watches Donghyuck retrieve the goal and run towards the goalpost, neon-orange sneakers shining through the green grass.

“Come on!” Sunwoo cheers, a hopeful spark lighting within him as the boy prepares to shoot, eyes quickly scanning the field.

And Lee Donghyuck almost never lets him down. Maybe that’s why he liked the boy so much in the first place– Sunwoo didn’t like players that dismissed the chance he won for them. He liked the skillful ones. The ones that knew what they were doing. (He also liked Donghyuck’s humor. He found himself grateful to have a friend so funny. He made even losing feel like it wasn’t such a big deal.) 

Choosing the golden shooter proved to be a good idea once again– Donghyuck, number 35, shoots for the goal and the ball gets in. Seconds after, the sound of a whistle is heard across the place, the game over with Sunwoo’s team winning 4:1.

Everyone cheers– yells from the audience are heard, excitement reeking through the air. The whole football team gathers around, sweaty bodies sticking together as they perform some sort of a cliche group hug, arms patting each other’s backs and complimenting each other’s play. 

The commotion dissolves shortly after. Sunwoo finds himself trying to catch his breath, eyes looking across the space for someone in particular. His heart leaps even harder when he finds you standing at the edge of the field in your cheer uniform, a big smile plastered on your face. Your eyes are glimmering as they meet with his. Your hair is a little tousled from the routine you just finished doing and there are smears and smudges on your cheeks from the face paint you used to symbolize the team’s colors– blue and gold. Over-all, you look ecstatic.

Sunwoo finds himself running over to you before he even registers that he’s going to do it. He’s like a fast, unguided missile, the goal of getting to you as fast as possible being the only thing resonating through his excited mind.

“Good jo-” you grunt as the boy finally gets to you, words cutting off when he (maybe a little harshly) puts his arms around your middle and picks you up, twirling you around. You screech a little into his ear and he finds himself laughing at your reaction. It’s like a runner's high– he feels like right now, he is capable of everything. 

“Okay! Okay! Put me down!” you laugh when you start to get a little dizzy. The boy complies, since he’s running out of strength to carry you anyways, and puts you back to your feet. His arms stay tightly wrapped around your body, though, locking you into a secure hug. 

“We won!” he cheers, the brightest grin settling to his lips as he announces the obvious. 

You beam at him, eyes soft and crinckled into little moon crescents, a dumbfounded smile playing with your features. “I know, Sherlock,” you dismiss him again with the teasing nickname, shaking your head in disbelief, “I was here. Cheering for you,” you say.

And sure, Sunwoo knows that by you, you don’t necessarily mean him in particular– more like cheering for the whole team, the whole 11 players on the field– but something about the sentiment makes his stomach feel all light and a slight blush spread over his glowing cheeks. You were here– cheering for him (and his team) – and although you’re here out of your own will, out of your own devotion to your hobby, he somehow feels grateful for your presence. You never miss a game. You went even when you caught the flu and felt too sick to do your cheer routine– you just sat on the bench and rooted for your best friend. (The team lost that match. Sunwoo felt a little bad for tugging you out of your bed for it.)

The boy studies your face for a while. You look perfectly content in his hold. You fit perfectly into his arms, he thinks– almost like you’re supposed to be there all the time. He should hug you more often, he decides. Sunwoo foolishly finds himself focusing onto your lips– he blames the shiny lipgloss you put on today– the words coming out of your mouth not quite registering in his brain. “As I was saying, good job! The whole team, but you especially. Don’t tell anyone, but I think you really shined in this game. I’m really prou–”

A single peck is pressed to your glossy, sticky lips, cutting you off in the middle of the sentence yet again. Sunwoo surprises himself with the gesture– he was always too shy to initiate something with you, too hesitant to even touch you sometimes– but the euphoria is still playing with his senses, clouding his brain. He doesn’t think of consequences.

He can’t control himself anymore. It’s been weeks since you two kissed for the first time– exactly 4 and a half weeks since you taught him how to do so– and since that afternoon, he found himself thinking about it every single day, every single minute, all. The. Time. You two haven’t spoken about it since, making the poor boy a little disappointed, but he respected your decision. He knew that you didn’t particularly reciprocate his feelings, but he still expected your dynamic to shift. At least a little bit. 

And although he should’ve been glad nothing changed and your friendship didn’t crumble because of a simple kiss, he found himself desiring to kiss you every time he saw your face. 

You peer at him with eyes wide open, mouth a little agape. Sunwoo doesn’t really know how to read your reaction– you didn’t look particularly happy, but you also didn’t push him away– and so in the moment of panic, he begins to backtrack, his arms untangling from your sides.

“I- I’m sorry if I overstepped any boundary, or if I–”

You’re not fans of letting each other finish their sentences today, it seems. Before Sunwoo gets a chance to put a bigger distance between the two of you, he watches as you get on your tippy-toes and press a tender kiss on his lips– more firmer than the one he dared to give you, a little bit longer, yet still sweetly short. There’s something soft and gentle in your gaze when you pull away and press another peck onto his face– the tip of his nose this time– and Sunwoo almost physically feels his knees turning into jello, his own celebratory firework show erupting in the pits of his stomach.

“So, as I was saying,” you hum, hugging the boy around his neck, “you did well. You looked good out there,” you peep, the sparks in your eyes making Sunwoo’s skin burn with their contact.

That day, you teach him that to be loved is to have someone sharing your achievements with. To be loved is to be adored, to be loved is to have someone watching you and cheering you on, to have someone to run to with good news.

Kim Sunwoo’s football team won the match, but the boy thinks that perhaps, that day, he won something even greater.

to. my first lover

August 2000

The admission papers arrive at his house the morning he’s supposed to sleep over at your house. Your parents decided to take a trip to your aunt’s place for two days, so you invite the boy into the comfort of your home for the weekend– as far as Sunwoo’s mother is concerned, he’s sleeping over at Juyeon’s. He doesn’t have the boy covering him, but he’s also sure his mother won’t try to check if he’s telling her the truth. He’s not banned from having a girlfriend– he just doesn’t want his mum to get any wrong ideas.

He finds the envelope in the mailbox when he comes home from school, and something in his stomach drops when he sees the american stamp on the top right corner of the white paper. He debates on opening it, but every time he hypes himself up enough to tear the top of the envelope off, a little anxious voice on his inside tells him to wait. 

Although reluctant to admit it to himself, Sunwoo is a little scared to see the result of his university application. Before he leaves for your house, he puts the envelope into the front pocket of his backpack and tries to forget about it. It works a bit better when he sees your face, hears your laugh– when he spends time with you and you two play the new board game you got from your cousin. Still, the weight of the envelope keeps bugging him in his mind no matter how hard he tries forgetting about it, and you finally notice (or finally bring it up after hours of ignoring his weird mood) when the two of you lay together in your bed in the evening, both facing the ceiling.

“Is everything alright?” you ask. 

“Hm?” Sunwoo hums, lost in thought. “Oh, yeah,” he nods, “don’t worry.”

You don’t seem convinced. Shuffling a little in your sheets, you turn towards him and move your body closer to his, your arm suddenly draping over his middle. A tender kiss is placed on his temple, almost making him crumble under the gentle care, and your voice earns a concerned kind of timbre when you speak to him. “You can tell me,” you hum, “boyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to tell each other things.”

Boyfriends and girlfriends. Sunwoo feels himself soften under the possessive title. It has been close to 4 months of you dating– starting with the winning match in April, progressing slowly through the summer break– but the fact that you’re his partner is still a little unbelievable to him. Sometimes, when he hears you call him your boyfriend, he still gets a little bashful. He still feels like he’s been told the greatest news of his life. 

Maybe it’s the nature of this sentiment that has him slowly unraveling to you. And maybe, it’s because he’d tell you anyways– you’d be the first to know. He was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.

“The reply to my university application came in the mail this morning…” he trails off, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

You plop up on your elbow, watching the boy from above. Eyes big, you peer into his face. “And?” you ask, an expecting gaze glazing his features.

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugs, “I was too scared to open it alone.”

“O-Oh,” you nod, furrowing your brows at him, “well, it’s okay to be scared. I believe in you, but even if it doesn’t go the way you wanted it to, I’m still proud of you for trying,” you say, a gentle tone of voice cooing at him, like the nature of the way you play with his hair, wanting to make the boy relax from his anxieties.

“I have the letter here with me,” he says, swallowing, “in my bag.”

“Do you want to open it together?” you ask, watching as the boy nods.

He’s getting off the bed in no time, wearing just sweatpants and a baggy shirt to sleep in, grabbing his bag from the corner of your room and unzipping the small compartment at the front. His fingers take the envelope out, legs walking him over back to your bed, your figure now sitting against the headboard. Sunwoo finds himself mirroring your position as his fingers turn the little white thing in his hold with much stumbling, preparing himself for whatever answer awaits him inside.

Glancing at you, seeing you looking at him with an encouraging expression on your face, Sunwoo takes a big breath in and out to calm his nerves before he tears the top open and takes out the expensive-feeling paper. Not stopping his actions anymore, knowing that if he takes another moment to himself, he won’t be able to read the letter, he unravels the note and lets his eyes skim over the words.

Before he even has a chance to register the sentences written down in the letter, before he can even let his mind accept the result he’s given– ‘we are pleased to announce that you were admitted to the athlete scholarship program…’– he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders, jolting him awake from his thoughts.

“You made it! Oh my god, you made it!” you cheer, excitement taking over your whole body as you shake the boy in your hold from side to side. The reality still isn’t quite settling in for him, so he just lets you do whatever you please– which includes all of the following: screaming incoherent words into his ear when you hug him closer to your chest, planting a kiss to his cheek and throwing your hands up into the air in a winning gesture. 

“You made it, Sunwoo,” you repeat, this time a little more collected.

Sunwoo finally allows himself to put the letter away and look into your eyes. “I made it,” he sighs, a soft smile playing with his features. 

“You did!” you nod, grinning back.

It’s strange. The first step towards Sunwoo’s dream is now complete. He got admitted to the university of his dreams– the one that’s good for athletes, the one that is supposed to shoot him towards stardom. He has the opportunity to take classes there and train with some of the best aspiring players in the whole world. He has the opportunity to move out of the country, live at dorms in Boston, and most importantly, he has everyone’s support. 

There’s nothing more a boy his age could want more. He has everything. His whole life ahead of him, only the brightest future waiting for him at the end– only if he keeps trying hard and improving. He’s happy. Don’t get him wrong– he really is. Somehow, though, it all feels a bit scary.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited?” you ask, a pout taking over your once excited features. The amount of worries you have over Sunwoo gets bigger and bigger the older the two of you are. There are only so many things that can go wrong when you are a teenager, but now that you’re adulting, the list keeps getting longer.

“I am,” he nods, forcing a smile onto his lips.

“You don’t seem excited,” you argue.

“I am! I really am,” he says, trying to battle with himself.

“What is it?” 

“What is what?” 

“Come on, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “I can tell when something’s wrong. You don’t have to hide it from me, because I’ll know anyway. What is it?” you insist, staring the boy down with an examining look.

The boy sighs, shrugging to himself. “Well,” he starts, “the school is in America.”

“And?” you start, furrowing your eyebrows. “We knew that when you applied. Why is it such a problem now?” you ask, genuinely not grasping the whole situation.

Sunwoo chews on his cheek for a little while, plays with his fingers in his lap. A part of him is telling him that he both looks and seems foolish– because you’re right. It was his dream, he is excited, and this is good news. But still, there’s something he didn’t really think of when applying. Well, he did. He just thinks that the fact that him being accepted wasn’t really a realistic idea, no matter how hard he wished and prayed for it, so he didn’t have the need to think about it so seriously back then. Now it’s here, all real, and it’s a struggle he didn’t really grasp that he was going to have to go through.

“Well,” he starts again, still avoiding your eyes, “that means I have to move. And we won’t see each other for a while.”

There’s a heartbeat of silence following his confession– one in which he contemplates all possible reactions you might give him, some with truly catastrophic endings– but after what seems like eternities, he hears your soft, gentle voice. “Is that what’s making you so worried?” you ask.

“Kind of,” he nods, feeling his cheeks redden. You handle him with so much care– sometimes, he doesn’t know how to react.

“Awh,” you coo, taking his hand into yours, preventing him from picking at the skin of his cuticles until they bleed– an action he always does and you keep scolding him for. “Sunwoo, we knew about this when you applied. I am okay with you going away. Sure, it will suck, but it’s only for a little time, and I can come visit you there and you’ll show me around and stuff…”

Sunwoo presses a tight-lipped, hesitant smile to his lips. He feels reassured.

“And we’ll call, and it’s going to be fine, because this is good. This is good news, Sunwoo, and you’re gonna do great, and you’re gonna be a star, and I’ll be so, so proud of you,” you hum, voice tender and caring, doing your best at consoling the boy.

“I’m already so proud of you now, y’know?” you hum, squeezing his hand. “Everything will be alright, so don’t you worry.”

Sunwoo’s arms reach out to envelop you into a hug. He once again recognises how easily you fit into his arms, how perfectly you shape into his skin, and when he burrows his nose into your neck, breathing in your scent, he feels your lips reach into his hair, planting a soft kiss into it. Your words did more to the boy than only consult him– they gave him hope, they gave him joy, they made him feel like perhaps, this is not such a terrifying occurrence. And it really isn’t– it’s quite possibly the best thing that he’s ever achieved, and the circumstances of him leaving don’t seem as horrifying to him now. 

As long as he knows that you have his back, he thinks he can do anything. And what’s 3 years abroad against the 4 years he’s known you?

When you pull away, you press your lips against his, the contact making his muscles finally relax and his mind let go of all the worries. There’s suddenly nothing in the world that could make him falter, nothing that could make him worry or stress or fret or change his mind, because he has your support, and you’re here with him, promising him that you’ll always be right by his side, wherever he is.

Your mouth molds against his, the familiar motion of your lips against his still surprising him sometimes, still making him curious even after those months. He’s been dating you for some while, but he still likes to explore what makes you crumble under him, what makes you hum into the kiss, what makes you tug him closer to you– it’s a fun game to him, trying to figure you out completely. 

He still has some time, but it’s like he is trying to engrave those moments into his memory before he no longer can experience them first-hand as easily.

He goes out to explore again– his tongue gently inviting itself into your mouth with a swipe of your lower lip, relishing in the way your composure falters a little bit, letting him be in charge. You were always the more experienced one out of you two, so Sunwoo often shied away from being the one dominating intimate situations– afraid he’s not good enough, too inexperienced, too immature for you– but in the rare moments he does take the lead, your reactions give him a new source of confidence. 

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, nose pressing against your cheek as he angles you so he has more access to your lips. Something about his ministrations makes you forget to breathe, breaking away from him in a search for much needed oxygen, but Sunwoo acts like he’s been starved of you, latching his lips to the trail from your mouth towards your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses to your soft skin. He faintly remembers the time you gave him a lovebite that one time you came over to his house to work on homework together, sucking and biting at his neck (and although he enjoyed seeing the possessive bruise on his skin whenever he saw himself in the mirror, he wore the strings of his hoodies tightly tied to his neck, shielding him from being teased by everyone– but mostly Eric). He tries to mirror your motions, recreating the action to the best of his abilities.

He hears you grunt, making him fear that he’s doing it wrong– a momentarily panic settling in his chest screaming at him that he hurt you– but the worries are quickly dismissed as you move impossibly closer to the boy, straddling his lap and threading your fingers through his hair, keeping him close. 

Humming under his touch, Sunwoo gets a kick from hearing the sounds coming out of your mouth. It’s like a reward– it’s like the praise he goes after his whole life, like validation of his actions being satisfactory for you. The pressure of your body against his lap makes him feel hot all over, sweaty hands holding you by your sides. Every slightest shift of your figure against his makes him shudder, composure faltering when you move in a way that has his breathing particularly quicken, a bundle of nerves forming in his stomach from the newly found hypersensitivity. There’s only so much fabric shielding the two of you from each other, and just the thought of it is slowly driving the boy crazy.

Pulling away from your neck, admiring the artwork he managed to portray on your skin, he feels you pulling him up to meet your lips again, heated, firm kisses shared in the silence of the room. He feels your hands resting on his abdomen, feeling him up for a moment before you sneak them under the hem of his shirt, dragging your nails against his skin. 

Sunwoo hears a sound escape his throat at the contact, making him instantly feel foolish– until he feels you smile against his lips, following your ministrations by mirroring his previous actions and kissing down his neck, finding all the spots that make him the most reactive– like the place under his ear, the juncture of his shoulder. You revisit all the places you’ve tested before and perfected your aim to make him efficiently crumble under you. Sunwoo finds himself losing the initial control he had over the situation, instead letting you take over and lead him, much like you’ve done in most areas of his life. He likes to be your follower. He likes to see where you want him, where you need him, he likes to comply. It’s more comfortable for him this way. It makes him swell with pride when he makes you happy.

Another shift of your hips against him has Sunwoo digging his fingers to your side, whole body feeling like it’s electrified under your touch. Placing a soft peck to the spot you’ve had your attention on, you mumble into his skin. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo swallows, noticing you leaning your forehead against his tenderly, eyes meeting. 

“Are you sure?”

He nods. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life– he enjoys your company, he loves your touch, the way you make his every sense heighten, his heart beat quicker. Still, he feels a bit nervous at the prospected events. “I just– I’ve never done this before,” Sunwoo whispers the obvious, watching as you carefully observe him.

“Sweetheart,” you tenderly call, placing a soft peck to his lips. “That’s okay. Me neither, but we could… we could try and see where this leads us, if you’d like?”

The sweet pet name alone makes the boy let go of all his worries, of the stress and nerves he’s been holding on to for the past few weeks. You hold him like he’s going to break, and Sunwoo’s never felt so loved before. You reassure him that it’s going to be okay. You are there to remind him that life isn’t so hard, as long as you’re by his side.

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you. 

“Okay,” you repeat, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him again– it may as well be for the thousandth time. Truth is, while he tried to keep up at first, Sunwoo lost count a long time ago.

Everything there is to know about love, Kim Sunwoo learned from you. You showed him the childlike playfulness during your dates. You taught him how to kiss, only to take advantage of his newly found skills and keep them all for yourself. You showed him what it is to share joys, dreams, but also worries together. You were his first crush, date, relationship– and now, his first lover.

In the comfort of your childhood bedroom, holding you closer than ever, Sunwoo dreams of eternity with you. He doesn’t realize what a foolish thought it might be. Somehow, he’s got a feeling that no matter what it is, you two will figure it out. You always do.

to. my first love

September 2000

Muscles sore and whole body heaving in pain, Sunwoo trails inside the small bungalow the university gave him as student accommodation, dropping his duffel bag to the floor. His face is pulled into a small frown as he enters the house and his roommate can’t help but notice. “Everything alright?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Sunwoo hums, nodding at the question. He has 3 assigned roommates– all male, all around his age. Sunwoo’s english isn’t bad, but it also isn’t that great either. He knew that this was going to be one of the main concerns of him moving out abroad, but he figured that the more you encounter the language, the more comfortable you get with it. Due to this, though, the two American boys he rooms with– their names are Josh and Sam– aren’t as close with him. Sunwoo doesn’t really blame them. It’s not like he tried to get close with them anyway. He talks much more with Mark, the one year older boy that’s also Korean, but has been living in the States for years now. The language barrier is nearly nonexistent there, and so he feels much more comfortable.

Not comfortable enough to vent to him about his problems, though. It’s good to share a laugh with Mark when they eat breakfast together in the kitchen, but he won’t go on and talk his ear off about his homesickness, for example. Sunwoo wouldn’t talk to him about the weird, unsettling feeling in his gut whenever he takes the bus or walks down the street, not recognising every face he encounters like he did back home, in his small town. He won’t tell Mark Lee about how much he misses Korea– he’s sure the boy has his own things to worry about. Besides, it’s not like Mark talks about personal stuff with him either. After four days of living here, he can’t say their relationship got to the level of going deep with their personal lives.

And so, Sunwoo walks up the stairs in silence, not giving Mark more information about his mood. Each step up hurts, since the training is twice as demanding as it used to be at home, making his muscles sore and his back hurt terribly from the stone hard mattress in the bed of his new home. He is willing to endure it, but he also has the terrific need to complain about it to anyone that would be willing to listen.

He should start writing a diary, he thinks as he stares up on the ceiling, chewing on the inside of his cheek. It sounds good enough to channel his feelings out into while also not being a bother to anyone else. Besides, he doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s having a hard time here in Boston. This was all his decision, his dream, and sometimes, things are going to get difficult. And that’s okay. Sunwoo just… feels like he lacks the support system he once had back home in Korea. Like someone took it from between his fingertips, forcefully kept it away from him, locked somewhere miles away. Maybe the person who did that to him was himself all along…

Which is why he doesn’t deserve to whine about the fact that he feels terribly lonely. He did this to himself. All him.

If he had a diary, he’d write about the terrible mattress first, he thinks. Then, the weird weather around here– it’s always hot, but not humid. It doesn’t rain as much. He kind of misses the rain. 

If he had a diary, he’d write about how he misses his old coach. The high school coach that always made sure the game was fun, yet productive. He misses his teammates as well. Their team never did big things, but he felt like they were some sort of a family. They knew each other well on the field. They had chemistry. They had fun.

He’d write about how he misses his annoying little sister. How he wishes she would appear in the doorway of his room and talked to him about the stickers she still collects, or dragged him to make another friendship bracelet together. How he feels bad for leaving her all alone back home, even though he was never the one to share his brotherly love for her so outwardly growing up. He feels a sort of appreciation for her that he didn’t quite understand when they were little. They are right when they say your sibling is your first best friend after all. 

He’d write about the second best friend he’s ever made, Eric. He’d write about how he longs for his presence, his encouraging words. His funny remarks, the pranks he’d pull on him. How he always appreciated him being just across the street, how he enjoyed growing up with him by his side.

He’d write about how much he misses you– perhaps the most out of everyone. There aren’t many words he could use to describe how much he wishes for your presence, and so he thinks the pages filled with sentences directed to you would be rather sparse, and it makes him kind of sad to think about. In his mind, you deserve novels written about you. You deserve love letters and poems and essays filled with every little detail of your existence. Maybe if Sunwoo loved you less, he would be able to talk about it more.

When his eyes go out of focus staring at the ceiling, Sunwoo decides to call you. It’s been 4 days since he arrived and he hasn’t spoken to you since you waved him off to the airport. His mother drove him and you couldn’t go to send him off at the gate, but Sunwoo almost thinks he prefers the fact that you only said goodbye to him in front of his house. It would be that much harder if he saw your face the last thing before boarding the plane. 

For the last four days, he’s been slowly settling in, taking in the new country and the new environment. He’d say he was just too busy to call, but that would be a lie.

He was just scared to hear your voice. Terribly.

What if you changed your mind? What if you no longer want to stay with him? What if it’s too hard to handle? And Sunwoo knows it’s hard– hell, it’s the most difficult thing he’s ever done– but all he wishes is for you to keep handling it well. To keep his heart in your hands gently, like you always have, sending him your energy.

He figures that if there’s one thing that can help his growing homesickness, it is to hear your voice. 

Sitting up from his bed and walking over to the bag he carried with him through the airport and kept with him on the plane, he scrambles through the item to find the piece of paper you forced into his hand on the driveway of his house. 

“We changed our landline yesterday, so call me on this number when you get there,” you said, pressing a kiss towards his cheek before you let him get into his mother’s car. Sunwoo promised to call back then– he hopes you don’t mind the delay. Maybe he could blame the timezones…

Hand thrusting into the front pocket of the bag, Sunwoo feels around and tries to fish out the little piece of paper. He’s 100% certain he put it there after he got into the car with his mum, making sure it’s safe and sound. He would hate to lose it– it was some sort of safety net for him. Something to fall back to, something to keep him above the water.

Panic settles in his chest when he doesn’t feel the soft piece of paper anywhere. The boy unzips all other compartments of the bag, turning it around, shaking out everything that’s inside. The phone number to your new landline has to be there somewhere in there. It needs to be.

When he doesn’t find it in his bag, he opens his closet. He throws everything out to the ground– his clothing, his shoes, the notebooks he bought for university– all in the search of the stupid, little, yet so important piece of paper. He searches through all his other bags. All pockets of his jeans, every centimeter of his folded clothing. All drawers of his desk, the whole floor, hell, he even crouches to check under his bed, blowing the dust bunnies out of reach, desperately hoping he could wish the paper into existence. He searches his bed. All possible parts where the landline number could be– some more unreasonable than others. Sunwoo feels like he is losing his mind.

The paper is nowhere in his room. It’s like it vanished. Was it really there at all? Did he dream that moment up?

Running down the stairs towards the landline, he takes the phone off the wall and punches in the numbers to your old landline, the pattern so familiar in his fingertips he couldn’t tell you the number if you asked, but he could recreate it with punching in the buttons in on any other phone in the world. He clenches his fist together, breathing more heavily as he listens in, praying for the universe to stop playing tricks on him and make you magically answer on the other side.

When the phone makes a dismissive sound, signaling that the number he called no longer exists, Sunwoo shuts the phone against the wall and takes it again, putting in your old number once more, like a summoning ritual. Maybe he put the numbers in wrong the first time… Maybe he made a mistake somewhere along the way…

When he gets the same response, he tries again. And again. And again. 

He can’t believe it. Tension settles into his shoulders, making him twirl the cord of the landline in between his fingers as a way to calm himself down, listening in to the dull noise on the other side telling him there’s nothing that can be done, nothing more that he can do. He doesn’t have the number, and somehow, although it sounds foolish, it feels like he lost you alongside it too. 

“Everything alright, man? You look–” Mark enters the room, peering at the boy with curious, worried eyes. It’s only now that Sunwoo realizes he is breathing heavily, fingers clammy on the cord, heart begging to run out of his chest to get all across the ocean to you. It’s only now that he realizes his cheeks are wet with tears, the solidification of his inner turmoil taking a physical form and appearing on his face, making him feel pathetic in front of the older boy.

Sunwoo once again puts the phone back to its original place, but this time, he doesn’t take it back and tries the useless old phone number again. Simply turning away from his roommate, he accepts his fate as he quickly puts on his shoes and slams the door shut after him, going out for a run.

Is this his punishment for waiting too long? Did the paper vanish out of his possession because he was deemed unworthy of hearing your voice? Should he have tried to look for the number earlier? Would this have prevented it?

It’s hard to run when your nose is stuffed and your breathing hitches with silenced sobs, he learns. Sunwoo doesn’t get as far as he would have liked, crumbling on a bench somewhere next to a playground, picking at the dry skin of his lips until they bleed and the irony taste on his tongue snaps him back into reality.

What was once his dream is starting to feel more like a nightmare. When he calls Eric two days after to ask him to get him your new landline number, he gets the news that you abruptly moved out to New York. 

September 2007

“If you really think about it, Y/N,” Sunwoo hums, making you shift your attention towards his serious-looking face, “we never really broke up in the first place.”

The boy is holding a bottle of cider in his hand, one of the four you got on your way to your tonight’s destination. Sunwoo rang the bell to your house a few minutes before 10 PM, and although you weren’t expecting to see him that day and you weren’t even looking as presentable as you’d like, you agreed to take a walk with him. Somehow, the two of you found yourselves climbing over the fence of your old high school, sneaking into the football field, figures settling on one of the benches of the tribune.

“Oh yeah,” you hum, lightness evident in your tone, “you just never called. What’s up with that, by the way?” you ask, snickering when you watch the male avert his gaze in a bashful manner, as if he was embarrassed to tell you his reasoning.

You take a sip of the apple cider, enjoying the sweet, fruity taste on your tongue, watching as the male contemplates his next response for a bit, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I lost your new landline number,” he peeps, voice barely louder than a whisper.

His answer doesn’t register immediately in your brain. The words take a moment to string themselves together into a sentence, taking another few seconds before you understand the meaning of his confession. A soft laugh drags out of your throat, disbelief coating your very essence. “What?”

“Yeah,” he nods, scratching the back of his neck before looking back at you, eyes full of guilt and shame, “I… I lost the number you gave me, and when I called Eric to try to make him get me your new number, he told me you moved to New York, and I guess… I guess I took it as a sign…?” he says, shrugging.

“A sign of what?” you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his answer.

All this time, you thought he didn’t call because he didn’t want to. You thought he didn’t call because he was too busy, too tired to deal with anything else other than his career at the moment. He was trying his hardest and training every day, so you understood that he wouldn’t have time for you every day. When he didn’t call for so long, even after you moved to the States as well– you hoped he’d somehow try searching for your number even then, because in your mind, everything was possible– one day, you just… stopped waiting for him to call. You stopped hoping you would hear his voice on the other side of the line.

And you accepted it. He realized long distance relationships were too difficult to maintain, especially in that time and age, and he had too many of his own worries to take care of before focusing his attention somewhere else. You didn’t resent him, no. You longed for him, you missed him, but you never once hated him for the decision he made. You wished him well, all this time. 

“A sign that… that maybe we weren’t meant to be,” he hums, shrugging. “It sounds stupid, really, but…” he trails off, cutting himself off in the middle of the sentence.

Something about his confession makes you feel a bit lighter. Your shoulders feel like there’s no longer anything weighing them down. It’s not like you waited for an explanation all those years and when you finally got one, something in you shifted into a more comfortable position.

“For me, back then, you were the right person, wrong time. And I didn’t want to let you go, I really didn’t, it’s just… everything was already so hard and the world seemed to put so many obstacles in my way of contacting you, that I thought it was the universe telling me to drop it and let you go. So you could… so you could find someone else, I guess…” he finishes explaining. He averts his gaze from you, pointing it towards the empty field, as if scared to see your reaction to his blabbering. He takes another few sips of his cider, snickering. “It wasn’t fair of me to want you to wait for me either.”

So you could find someone else… You think back to all the times you went on dates after you concluded that your relationship with Sunwoo was over. You try to remember their faces, their mannerisms in such detail that you could only make up one of your previous lovers– the one sitting next to you right now– and you chuckle at your foolishness. Remembering how you kept comparing every new person in your life to the one that stole your heart first, remembering how you thought about him late at night, wondering where he is right now and how he’s doing. You used to look through the sports parts of newspapers, looking for his name somewhere, looking for his team name, but never seeing a glance of how he was doing. You wore the stupid friendship bracelet he gave you in your junior year around in New York, having people point it out and ask about it, all until it broke off by itself  one day and you reluctantly said goodbye to the sentiment. 

You dated around after losing contact with Sunwoo. You don’t really think you found someone else, though. 

“I wanted to wait for you, though,” you say, shuffling closer to the male on the bench, voice sincere. “It was my decision.”

“Well,” he chuckles, “life had other plans for us two.”

His sentence makes you think. A few days ago, it would make you sad. Embarrassed, even. Life had other plans for you two and they didn’t align with what you two have calculated during the summer break after your senior year. Sunwoo didn’t become a star. His football career never took off. He finished his degree and came back home, bitter and heartbroken. 

Your plans ended just as fast as you came up with them. Not going to university after high school, you were left with nothing to do. When the opportunity to take an internship for a news company in New York came to you so suddenly, you took it without thinking, trying to find your place in the big world ahead of you. You had no plan, but you think that maybe, some part of you wanted to get away from your hometown all along. You wanted to do big things, make everyone proud. Being a news anchor wasn’t even something you dreamed of when you were little, so you guess you weren't supposed to really feel that let down, but the defeat still stings.

Or, at least, it used to. You find that the failure doesn’t hurt as much anymore. 

Looking at the male next to you, you think you know the reason why. “It’s okay,” you say, shrugging, “we figured it out anyways, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you with a soft smile playing with his lips. “I guess we did.”

The sound of cicadas hits your ears when you two fall into a comfortable silence. Healing old wounds was surely one of the items on your check list when you came back home, but you didn’t expect to get over things so quickly. You don’t think you would have been able to get over everything alone, though– and this makes you twice as grateful to still have Sunwoo by your side. A sense of nostalgia takes over you at the fact, but this time, it hits you with more fondness than longing for the old times.

“Remember how young we were? It’s like I still see you chasing the ball around the field when I focus hard enough,” you say, pointing ahead of you.

Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head at your antics. “Yeah. I almost see you leading the cheer practice in the back there,” he points, “in your cute cheer uniform, with the ridiculous pom poms in your hands–”

“Hey, don’t call them ridiculous,” you gasp, “they were my favorite part of the whole routine!”

“Oh, I could tell,” he laughs, poking fun at you. 

“Well, you must have liked the pom poms enough to stare at me during practice all the time,” you shrug, teasing the male back. The fact that Sunwoo had a crush on you long before you reciprocated the feelings wasn’t something you two explicitly talked about before, but you always deemed as clear as day. Or, at least, it was to everyone back then.

“I did not–” he gasps, making you gently shove him with your elbow.

“Come on, everybody used to say you had a crush on me back then,” you hum, “you were pretty obvious with it too.”

“You knew?” he looks at you, eyes big and surprised. Gears clearly running in his head, he tries to piece the information together, running through the memories now so distant, but still so clear.

“Girls always know,” you point out, shrugging. You take another sip of your cider, licking your lips after and speaking up again, tone of voice almost confidential. “I just acted like I didn’t. But then I realized I liked you back, so I was trying everything in my power to make you confess to me first. Which… took you long enough, young man,” you giggle, seeing the male shake his head at you in disapproval.

“You could’ve confessed first, if you were so confident,” he mutters, obviously a little gutted by the revelation.

“That would be below my level,” you nod, pressing your lips together into a straight line, “besides, it was fun watching you act all cute and clueless.”

“Don’t call me cute and clueless–”

“That’s what you were, though! Like the time when you got super drunk on your birthday and begged me not to leave–”

“I didn’t even like you back then!”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I was in denial,” he furrows his brows theatrically, putting the empty glass bottle to the grass, “but I see that you had a lot of fun watching me suffer.”

“Fine, pretty boy,” you say, catching a glimpse of the boy momentarily shying away, presumably at the endearing nickname, his cheeks tinting pink even in the faint moonlight. “Would it make you feel better if I confessed first this time?”

“Huh?” the boy asks, lips parted, eyes a big, honest pool of honey.

Cute and clueless, you think.

The story comes full circle when you realize that this football field is perhaps what started it all. This is where you ran up to the new addition to the team, saying that your favorite number was on the back of his jersey. As the leader of the cheerleading team, you took it as your job to make every newbie feel welcomed– no matter if they were a fellow cheerleader or a football player. You didn’t expect for the boy to never stop wearing the number– although it was your favorite, it didn’t seem to be so important back then. (One day, you learned that Sunwoo kept the number on his jersey even after moving abroad. You read it in one of the sports magazines you foolishly flipped through in every kiosk you encountered and almost teared up in the busy store after.) 

This field is where you watched him play football every week. It’s where you both practiced, sending each other funny faces after the coach was mean to either of you for not being focused on your training. 

This is where Sunwoo found his passion– where he found his dream. This is the place that shifted the next couple of years of your life towards all sorts of directions. This is where he kissed you after winning a match, a gleeful confession slipping past his lips. This is where your relationship started, and metaphorically, also ended. The field that kept you apart is now a thousand miles away, but the one that brought you together is now right in front of you.

You guess it’s only right to use it for new beginnings.

“I think… I think I’m still in love with you, Sunwoo,” you start slowly, playing with your fingers in your lap, “well, I don’t know if my feelings for you ever ended… they could’ve, I mean, we were apart for so long… I just… all I know is that I don’t want us to be apart anymore, and I–”

Your words die on your tongue when the boy cuts you off with a kiss, the taste of apple cider mixing on your lips. The way he kisses you didn’t really change even after so many years, still swaying you with the familiarity of his loving. Still, even though you know the way he angles your jaw, the way he presses against you, the way he takes his sweet time, truly showing you how much he enjoys the act, you never grow tired of it. Something in you reacts the same way as when you were young. There’s still excitement, there’s still tender softness in your heart every time you kiss him.

His lips break apart from yours, a playful tint in his words when he speaks to you again. “Don’t try to take credit for it now,” he says, “because the last time I checked, we never really broke up in the first place, so you could say we were dating all along, all because I confessed back in–”

“God, you’re unbelievable,” you grunt.

“But you love me,” the boy says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.

“Always have,” you say, pressing a quick peck to his plush lips, “always will.”

The starlight glazes your cheekbones when you rest your forehead against his, as if to send him a telepathic message that is worth more than a thousand words. It’s hard to find the words to explain the mixture of your emotions right now, but when your memory washes up the encouraging monologue Sunwoo offered to you when you first arrived, you finally agree with his sentiment. Perhaps, one word could summarize it all– you feel truly content. 

They say you never forget about your first love. At 25 and still counting, you guess you could say that’s true.

[acidsoju]

IN THE DARK

genre: smut, non idol au, (there's barely plot) pairing: roommate! beomgyu! roommate! reader warnings: oral (m. and f. receiving), unprotected sex (dont!), unedited so probably bad writing word count: 3.8.k summary: when the lights go out, beomgyu goes to you, his pretty roommate, for comfort.

“AH, WHAT THE FUCK!”

If you had to be honest, you don’t know just what scared you more; if the so sudden power outage that left you completely in the darkness of your room or if the incredibly loud scream your roommate let out just a second after.

You scoffed under your breath when you heard, just a few seconds after his scream, the loud thumbs of his hurried steps down the hall getting nearer and nearer. The door of your room crashed open and you could notice, thanks to the moonlight coming from your window, the silhouette of the tall boy leaning against your door frame.

“Hey, are you okay? I just heard you screaming” he asked trying to hide the fear in his voice.

You rolled your eyes and reached out your hand to grab your phone placed on your nightstand, grimacing when you read the 4% of battery it had left. You put it back down and looked again at the boy. Beomgyu blinked, trying to adjust his sight at the darkness of your room while trying not to rush inside and hide under your bed at the creeping darkness on his back, the hairs of his neck bristling. It made him so nervous.

“Does your phone have battery?” you asked, lazily getting up from your bed. Beomgyu felt a sense of relief washing over him after hearing your voice; at least he wasn’t alone to die in the dark.

“Barely” he answered looking down at the screen on his phone. He heard you sigh and walked closer to him, stopping just a few inches before your feet touched his, both of your tilting your heads to look at each other’s eyes. “W-what?”

“I’ll see if we have some candles left” you answered softy, pointing with your finger at the boy blocking your way out. “Need to get through the door first, silly” Beomgyu’s mouth formed a small ‘o’, nodding softly before he decided to speak again.

“M’coming too” he mumbled, taking a step in your room for you to walk out first into the hall. You sighed a chuckle and made your way to the kitchen, touching the wall to guide you. Behind you, the floor creaked as the boy followed you closely― like, really close; enough for you to feel his breath fanning over the back of your neck.

You both made your ways into the kitchen; a soft grunt came from you as you stumbled into the corner of the counter, stopping abruptly while you rubbed the spot in your stomach where it hurted. Beomgyu’s body softly crashed against yours and his hands quickly found your waist, trying to stabilize himself and keeping you close. Your eyes widened and you thanked whoever up there that there was no light in the room for the boy to see your expression, because you would have surely get teased at.

“What is it?” he asked, his head tilting over your shoulder even thought he wouldn't be able to look at you. You gulped as his breath hit your cheek. His cold hands on your skin making you tense for a second before you rested your own hands over his, squeezing softly. You mumbled a short nothing before keep on walking, tugging at the boy for him to move too, which he made trying not to step on your toes, his hold in your waist never letting go.

Your hands let go of his and reached to the cupboard until your fingers brushed what it felt like the candles package, taking out one from it. You grabbed the lighter on the counter and turned around on your spot before lighting one, a small smile on your lips as it lightened a little. You felt the hands on your waist tightening and you looked up at Beomgyu, whose eyes were already looking into yours.

“You feel better?” you asked him searching for any sight of fear in his eyes. After a year living with the boy, since your mutual friend Kai introduced you to the boy who was looking for a roommate while you searched for a place to live, you had learnt a few things about him; like the kind of music he liked listening to, or how loud he could get sometimes -especially when he played his games online-, or how he was a very sweet but a very clumsy person too, or how scared he was of the dark.

You still remember that time you learnt about his fear; you weren’t home when the outrage happened and it had already come back when you got back home; you found him hugging himself on the couch, his eyes red from crying and the tired look on his eyes, all of him covered in cold sweat.

“… I can light another candle if you want” you spoke again after a few seconds of no answer from the boy. His lips curled into a small smile before he shook his head, eyes flicking to the fire in between you two.

“This much is fine, just…” he gulped, taking a small step back and tugging you with him from the hold in your waist. “Just stay with me, please.”

You allowed him to pull you into his room, pushing the door close behind you. You looked down at Beomgyu while he took a sit down on the edge of his bed, his hands never leaving your waist, as he looked up through his long eyelashes at you. You felt your face heating up and had to clear your throat as you took a step to the side and sat down on the spot next to him, his hands finally letting go of you reluctantly.

“Wanna try and get some sleep? I can stay here until you do” you said to him but Beomgyu shook his head, shifting in the bed to look at you. You couldn’t help but to let out a soft, awkward laugh at the weight of his gaze on you and looking away from him, your eyes landed on the guitar resting behind him on his bed. “Oh, were you playing before? How’s your music coming?”

Beomgyu looked over his shoulder to his instrument. “I actually was polishing a new song before the light went off… Let me play it for y― I mean, do you wanna heart it?” you nodded excitedly and Beomgyu chuckled softly before grabbing his guitar and placing it over his lap, his fingers caressing the strings and beautiful melodies coming from it.

Was it because you were immersed in the dark or was his voice always this deep? You blinked a little surprised; maybe the fact that you got to live with his screaming-ass 24/7 had made you forget about his actual very pretty and calm voice. You hummed in delight and closed your eyes, enjoying the music and the warm that irradiated from the candle.

Beomgyu cleared his throat after his song ended, looking at you while your eyes were closed. He put down his guitar against the wall and moved just a little closer to you, the sudden shift making you open your eyes to look at him.

“You have a really beautiful voice, I liked it” you whispered, suddenly feeling so tiny under his piercing gaze; his brown eyes shone with the fire reflected on them. Beomgyu leaned in closer to you, his hand resting over the one you were holding the candle with, and his long fingers brushing the line of yours. Little strands of his hair fell over his eyes and brushed against your forehead, making you ticklish and moving your head back unconsciously; he followed you, inching closer and closer until his hot breath hit against your cheek; dry yet plump lips brushing against your skin.

Your breath got caught up in your throat and you swear your hand would’ve shake if Beomgyu wouldn’t have been holding it with his own big hand.

“Wait…” you whispered, your eyes flickering to look at his when his free hand went to cup your face and softly guided you to look up at him. “The candle… you’re gonna get burned-

Your words died as Beomgyu blew the candles out; darkness engulfing you again, senses sharpening and soft lips connecting to yours in a second. Oh, he was sweet. Your eyes furrowed as you closed your eyes and a long sigh scaped through your nose, the extinguished candles in your hands fell and you didn’t care to look where before your hands grabbed each side of the boy’s face, deepening the kiss.

Beomgyu’s heart beat loudly against his chest; was it his fear of the dark or was it you? He didn’t care to stop to think as his hands pressed against the mattress on your back, leaning in until you fell on your back with him towering over you. Your hands were so soft, not like his all calloused. He liked the way they caressed his cheeks before sliding to the back of his neck, massaging his sculp and playing with his soft, long hair.

A quiet gasp came from your lips when a pair of hands firmly grabbed your waist, skin against skin as your shirt had rolled up a little. Beomgyu’s soft lips nibbled down at your bottom lip and pulled, brushing his tongue against it before sliding it into your mouth, caressing your own tongue with his. You felt the way his legs shifted and how he straddled your lap, each knee at each side of your hips.

“God, so soft…” mumbled the boy, pulling away from your mouth only to stick immediately to the skin on your jaw, then your neck and collarbones, leaving a trail of wet kisses and nibbling at your skin occasionally. You sighed; it felt good― the way his mouth moved experimentally on your skin earning each soft sound from you. Beomgyu enjoyed the little sighs you let out, but he wanted to ear you more.

His hands slowly made their way up, calloused fingerprints brushing up from your stomach to your ribs and stopping just a second at the line of your breasts, as if waiting for you to say something, which you didn’t. At the same pace, his mouth left a soft kiss in the middle of your chest that moved up and down swiftly. His nose buried in your breasts, sniffing and groaning low at the softness and warmth of the spot.

His hands slid under your bra; your back arching when his thumps rubbed against your nipples until they were erect to pull them; a whine came out of you and Beomgyu grinned against your skin, nibbling at your skin before he swiftly took your bra out. His mouth -warm, hot- went over one of your breasts, his tongue moving again and again at your nipple, sucking and biting softly while one of his hands took care of the other breast.

“O-oh-“ you whispered a groan, feeling your skin crawling at the contrast of the air hitting your bare skin and the warm from Beomgyu’s mouth. He moved to the other breast, repeating his actions; kissing, licking, sucking, biting, smirking at your precious sounds, groaning at the pulls from his hair.

“Does this feel good?” he asked, his nose brushing at your chest while his tongue stuck out and lick down until he reached your abdomen, his hands immediately covering your wet breasts when his mouth was off them. He tried looking up at you from a response, but he couldn’t see anything; unlike your room where the dim light from the moon came, his had most of the time his curtains closed. “Mhm?” his nose pressed against your pelvis, the vibrations from his voice making you squirm under him. “Do you want me to stop? Just say yes and I’m off of you.”

Truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. This was such an unfamiliar side of the Beomgyu you knew and it intrigued you, but mostly you were already too horny to want to stop him. You wanted him.

“… Gyu, touch me more” you whispered, almost inaudible but it reached the boy’s ears perfectly. His hands abandoned your breasts and his fingers slid under your sweatpants’ waistline, pulling them down and off of you. His hands grabbed your hips and scooted you closer to him, now laying down on his stomach. His nose brushed against your pelvis again before it trailed down soon reaching your aching clit; you flinched when his nose rubbed against it, your mouth gaping open as he repeated the movement again and again and again, soft whimpers reaching his ears. “No- No teasing.”

“Aw, but you sound so pretty when I do” he smirked before pressing his darted open lips against your covered core; a soft groan erupting from his throat as his senses swamped in the essence of you, already soaking wet the thin cloth of your panties. He hummed against you, biting back the smile on his lips when your back arched at the vibrations. “Smells s’good in here.”

His nose rubbed against your clit a little more while one of his hands trailed down from your hip to your thigh, caressing your skin ­-fuck, so soft- until his fingers brushed against your wet entrance. He moved aside your panties, barely pulling his face away from you until you were exposed for him. His lips bumped against your wet folds and a moan from you had him smiling against your warm pussy, while your hands went down to hold onto the man’s hair.

“O-oh, Gyu- that- ah, that feels good" your breath itched as his tongue stuck out of his mouth and gave you a long lick from the base of your entrance until your clit. A moan scaped from you. Beomgyu repeated the same action with his tongue one, two, three- a lot of times until he had you trying to close your knees around his face and whining underneath him, squirming while trying to get more friction of his mouth against you. “C’mon, don’t be mean.”

Beomgyu chuckled; firm hands now grabbing the inside of your thighs and spreading them apart before swamping into you again, this time fastening the pace of his tongue, lewd sounds of slurping and wet kisses reaching your ears even though most you could hear was your own noises. You hardened your hold in the boy’s pretty hair and bucked your hips up, trying to relieve your aching on his pretty mouth that, as soon as you started moving, had his tongue out for you to use as you pleased.

Beomgyu pressed his face closer to you, chin and nose drenching in your juices as you moved up and down; his tongue didn’t resist much still until he began matching your movements with it, up and down against you.

“Ah-fuck, Gyu, m’close”

“Cum then, angel,” Beomgyu huffed against you, his fingers grabbing your squirming legs down, probably leaving bruises mark on your skin but he couldn’t see. “fuck- you’re so hot, cum in my tongue, y/n, m’gonna take all of you.”

It didn’t take you long to reach your climax after Beomgyu’s tongue started fucking you in and out while he groaned against your entrance and you fucked his face with your pussy. You bit down your lip trying to muffle the sounds but still, moans and whimpers came from you as your juices covered the man’s tongue. Beomgyu gathered your juices on your tongue until he felt you were clean enough.

“You good?” he asked after a few seconds of silence where he only could hear your fast breaths. You gulped and nodded, remembering he couldn’t see you.

“Y-yeah, just… catching my breath” you answered, feeling your cheeks burn up and, even though you really couldn’t see him, you knew he had that stupid smirk of his on his face.

“Okay, take your time” and he did have a smirk on his face. Beomgyu sat down putting some space in between you two, the taste of you still lingering in his mouth. You pushed yourself up and palm the same in front of you, eyebrows narrowing when you didn’t find him. Crawling, you moved a little closer to where the bed sunk.

“Where are you?” you questioned, finally brushing his arm. Your hands found his face and you pulled him closer, clumsily placing your lips over his, your own taste invading your mouth. Beomgyu’s breath got caught up in his throat when your tongue pushed past his lips, moving around his mouth like you owned him. “It’s my turn now.”

“Mhm? Oh.” Realization fell upon him as your hands fell on his lap, stroking his boner over his sweatpants. You got up from the bed and kneeled on the floor, in the middle of his spread thighs. He bit his lip, head falling over his shoulder while your fingers pulled his pants down until they touched the floor. “You’re gonna make me feel good, right ang- aw, fuck-“

Beomgyu gulped down his own words when your hand grabbed his archin dick, after pulling down his boxer, and collected the wetness from the pre-cum of his tip, spreading it all along his length. Your free hand rested on his thigh, fingers pressing down on it for support while you moved your face closer to him. He felt so big in your hand; could he even fit in your mouth?

Beomgyu’s stomach tensed when your breath hit against his dick before you placed down a wet kiss on his tip, lips darting open and tongue poking out to brush against him, the saltness of his pre-cum invading your mouth. It was addicting. Soon you found yourself lowering your mouth to his base and giving a long, slow lick from there up until you reached his tip and then got him into your mouth, tongue swirling around his length.

You felt his body tensing up while you bobbed down your head, painfully slow for him, making sure your tongue reached everywhere possible. Beomgyu’s hands closed in fists against his mattress and he swirled his tongue on lips lip before trapping it down under his teeth, hissing at your pace. Were you taking revenge for his teasing? Oh, you were such a greedy little thing. Beomgyu smirked, lip still trapped under his teeth before a hand landed on top of your head.

“Mhm, that’s much better, angel,” he hummed after he had pushed your face down on his cock, feeling his tip reaching the back of your throat and you moaned against him; your eyes prickled with tears you had to blink to suppress. The hand on your scalp tug from the makeshift ponytail, making you moved up and down again, each time harder, on his dick. “Such a pretty mouth for me, making me feel this good, angel- fuck, you like that, no? Being used for me to cum, uh? You want that? Me cumming all over your pretty hot mouth? Better fucking fill your mouth with all my love.”

You whined; he sure talked a lot now that his mouth wasn’t occupied with something else. But in reality, his lewd words had you rubbing your thighs together and clenching around nothing. Beomgyu let go of the hold in your hair and leaned back, pressing both his hands against the mattress on his back as he let you take over. Fuck, he wished he could see you right now so prettily sucking him off while drool fell from your chin and you looked up at him with whose cute eyes of yours.

He bit down on his bottom lip, his head falling back while his abdomen twitched; a long, rasp groan erupted from his throat before he had his ropes of cum filling your mouth. He whined, feeling how you sucked all of his juices with your hot tongue, cleaning him just like he had cleaned you before.

His hand moved forward to hold your chin and his thump pressed against your lip before moving inside your mouth, your tongue quickly twirling around his fingerprint. Beomgyu hummed pleased. “You swallowed all of it? Good, angel, now come up here.”

You climbed up his lap after rolling down your panties and straddle him with his hand on your waist guiding you. You rested your hands on his shoulder as you lifted yourself up, feeling how he grabbed his dick and placed his tip against your entrance. His hot breath brushed against your cheek before he pushed you down onto his length, moans scaping from both of you as he filled you up.

“What the fuck, you’re so tight? Agh- god, you feel s’good, angel but you’re gonna make me cum in no time if you suck me up like that.”

Beomgyu found your lips in no time, crashing his against it and kissing you like a starved man, while you started pacing up on his cock, hearing the way his breath would flinch or the sweet moans against your mouth. His hands trailed down from your waist to your ass, grabbing and squeezing harsh. His mouth fell open when he felt the way you squeezed him inside.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? Fuck, okay-“ suddenly, he fell on his back and pulled you with him, you whined at the sudden crash but the sound quickly morphed into a moan as Beomgyu held your ass in his hands and started thrusting his hips faster from underneath you. His thrusts turning into ramping at the sweet sound of your moans against his ear, making his eyes roll to the back of his head. “You’re squeezing so hard, baby, are you gonna cum again? Do it, then.”

“Fu-fuck, Gyu, s’too much…”

“You can take it, though, you’re a big girl” he tilted his head and planted a kiss on your ear, before he started nibbling at your earlobe. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape while your eyes rolled back, it was all so lewd; the noises from skin hitting against skin, the soft groans from his on your ear. Your breath hitched and you felt your release cover all of Beomgyu’ cock that continued his fast ramping inside you, wet sounds reaching your ears. “God, you came so much, y/n, so fucking much.”

You moan against the skin on his neck where you hided your face while he thrusted the last times into you before cumming as well. His hands caressed your ass before they were up again, hugging you closer to his chest that moved up and down while catching his breath. Beomgyu was still inside of you when he moved in his bed and laid comfortably, head resting on his pillow and you laying on top of him.

Soon, soft snores reached his ears and he chuckled silently, hands caressing your exposed back and hair. Just when he was about to fall asleep as well, with you in his arms, the light came back.

[obliviouskara]

wouldn’t it be beautiful if there was a fic where kara would lose her memory and instead of being the number 1 lena luthor defender who has devoted her existence in making sure everyone knows lena is a good person kara would become the very same people she used to defend lena over. kara's judgment on lena would be base on her last name and nothing else. because she would forget seeing lena testify against her own brother during the trial all she would know of lena is that shares the same last name with the man that repeatedly tried to kill her cousin. the whole time this is happening, lena is still very much mad at supergirl or kara about the whole lying thing so mad that she might have been one of the reason why kara lost her memory however now with kara having no memory of her she feels like its pointless to be mad at someone who doesn’t even remember lying to you, who doesn’t even know who she is. so she puts her anger on a shelf and offers to help alex out. she doesn’t understand why she feels the need to help supergirl, her lying manipulative two faced ex-bestfriend but she does anyway. of course she does because she's lena luthor and she doesn't have to explain herself to anyone. she convinces herself that its because alex is asking for help. because its the right thing to do (not that she'd really cared about what's right or wrong every since their fallout with supergirl) but still. alex of all people is asking her for help which means its bad bad. alex who feels helpless and hopeless because kara is back to her old insecure self. she doesn’t even remember being supergirl and because she doesn’t remember saving alex from the plane kara doesn’t feel the need to become supergirl. she has no memory of being a superhero and she's very much content of being cat grant's assistant and nothing more. everything is overwhelming for her. alex just wants her sister to be okay. lena just wants to back at being mad again. sam is just in here for the ride and is very amused about the whole situation. its a mess and now alex is asking for lena's help because she has wasted countless deo resources but nothing is helping. Not that Kara is being any much of help because Kara feels overwhelmed and Kara just wants things to go back to how she remembers it. She doesn't want to accept the changes alex keeps on telling her and alex knows if there is one person that could bring kara's memory back — bring her sister back that would be lena.

but the thing is, kara doesn't like the idea of being close to a luthor. she doesn't even understand why out of all people alex would trust with their situation, it had to be lena luthor. now every time alex would bring lena up, she feels like she has to defend lena nonestop from kara's relentless accusations. talk about major irony. Kara has been nothing but:

"Why are you trusting her?! She's a Luthor?! What makes her so special??"

"They're evil, right? What if this is all some plot she has to kill me?!"

This feels like a huge slap in the face for alex but she carries on, exhausted she explains:

"Yes, majority of the luthors are still bad but she isn't"

"I dont know why she's different, okay? She just is"

this was so much easier when alex was doing all the accusing but she pushes forward

"We trust her. Yes, I trust her. You trusted her too, yknow?"

"Yes, I dont always trust your judgement but she's a good person. How do I know that? I don't know!! Will you just let her prick you with a kryptonite needle so we can go on with our lives!?!"

"why does she have kryptonite? she made it— its not that bad, i promise! she’s just super smart! stop floating away and come back here!”

what a mess would that be kara doesn’t even want to touch lena with a 10 foot pole. its very to hard catch an alien when she super speeds every chance she gets whenever she feels lena is close by. its frustrating and its taking longer than it should have. everyone feels like they're wasting time and should just accept this as how it is. the entire national city is looking for supergirl. she's been missing for months now. all while lena, lena takes it all in like a champ but deep down lena luthor is still mad. scorching hot mad. how dare kara forget every pain she has caused lena and is now actively avoiding her?! how dare this superhero just ups and leaves and stop being a superhero?! how dare her give up when lena hasn't even decided on her revenge for the years of deceit. its so unfair. its not suppose to hurt. she should be happy that kara doesn't remember her at all. this was what she wanted with myriad. a clean slate but why does it make her heart ache everytime kara tells her she's a luthor with so much distain. this was what she wanted, right? this would have made it easier for her to forget having feelings for her bestfriend but why does lena find herself trying to recreate every lunch date she has with kara danvers? so much so she brings her her favorite food whenever they stay in the same room. offers her snacks she knows she cant resist. kara doesn't understand why lena is being so nice. she still doesn't trust her but it makes her curious why lena's heart always beats differently whenever she's around. why lena looks at her the way she does. as if kara has stolen a piece of her heart. and kara doesnt understand whenever she eats her favorite food, all she thinks of is lena's shy smile whenever she accepts her takeout. whenever kara lets her touch her to examine her and its just a mess can someone please just...

[rubytuby]

surprise

patrick zweig x fem!reader 

word count: 3.3k (LOL)

warnings: established relationship with patrick because i'm lazy, art is your best friend, mentions of getting drunk but it's college so like to be expected… also allusions to sex haha but um i just love to write a cutesy plot.

note: i am normal about patrick zweig, i feel so normal about him #needthat. jokes, but i am in love with him its so bad, i wish he was real. also please don't be offended by my tashi erasure, still love her, but she didn't exactly fit in here. obv this is not canon bc you're dating patrick in stanford era instead of tashi, anyways, hope you enjoy <3.

FEBRUARY 23 2007, STANFORD

The sun hung low, casting long shadows over the tennis courts as you and Art wrapped up your practice session. Both of you were drenched in sweat, Art slung his tennis bag over his shoulder and jogged over, his face lighting up with a mischievous grin.

“So uh, want to walk back to the dorms together?” he asked, sounding overly eager.

You squinted at him, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand. “Sure, but I need to shower first. You know, make it seem like I haven’t been pushed to my physical limits,” you said, gesturing to your sweaty attire.

Art laughed. “You have a single, why don't you just wait until you get back to your dorm?”

You groaned, shoving your racket into your bag. “That's the problem. The maintenance guy showed up at 7:30 this morning to tell us they’re shutting off the water from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. only on my floor for some urgent plumbing issue.”

“Damn, that sucks. Are they even allowed to do that without giving anyone notice?”

“That's what I asked, but apparently, giving us 30 minutes notice is considered adequate. So, technically, they can,” you replied, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “I’ll be quick, though. Just need to rinse off. If you don’t wanna wait for me to chill, you can walk back to the dorms. I won’t be offended.”

Art shook his head. “I’ve got time, I’ll wait. I’ve gotta call someone anyways,” he said plopping down the bench and pulling out his phone.

“Alright weirdo, if you’re sure,” you said, dropping your tote bag next to him. “I’ll be super quick.” With that, you darted off to the girls' locker room.

As soon as you disappeared, Art pulled out his phone and dialed Patrick’s number. The phone barely rang before Patrick answered, his voice tense with impatience.

“Are you guys on the fucking way yet or am I going to have to wait longer?”

“Hello, sunshine!” Art greeted cheerily. “Your beloved is taking a quick shower. We’ll be there in about 25 to 30 minutes.”

Patrick groaned loudly. “Why didn’t you just tell her to shower in her dorm? I’ll lick the sweat off her if it means not waiting any longer.”

Art grimaced at his best friend’s comment. “The water’s out on her floor. She said she’s literally only rinsing off and changing. Just be patient. I’ll text you when to leave so we can time it perfectly.” A sigh rang out on the other line.

“If this plan doesn’t work and I’ve been hiding from my girlfriend for a couple hours for no reason, I’m going to seriously hurt you,” Patrick grumbled, staring out Art’s dorm window.

“Well she definitely thinks you're in New York visiting your parents,” Art paused, “I just had to talk her down from buying a plane ticket, so I think we’re good.”

“I told her I just got into the city a couple hours ago when I actually got to SFO. She was so upset yesterday when I said it’d be five days until we saw each other. She called me a fucking asshole, so I dont know what to do anymore.” Patrick said as he flopped onto Arts bed.

Art scribbled on his worksheet, humming in response. “Well, at least you know that she definitely misses you.”

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she misses me or just wants to slap me in the face,” Patrick replied, exasperated.

Just then, Art saw you coming out of the locker room, chatting with one of your friends on the team. “Hopefully not the latter. Anyway she’s out. See you at 15. Don’t be late,” Art said flatly before hanging up, knowing Patrick and his unfortunate untimeliness. 

Art smiled up at you as you approached. “Who was that?” you asked, eyebrows raised.

“Our shared lover,” Art replied with a laugh, haphazardly shoving his worksheet and phone into his bag as he stood up.

“Aww, any exciting updates from Pat? He still stuck with his parents for another five days?” you teased, sticking your tongue out playfully.

“He just got to the city. He mentioned playing on the East River courts and paying someone to hold a spot for him,” Art lied smoothly.

“Sounds about right,” you said, sighing. “Anyway, I was talking to Nathalie over there…” you squinted, linking arms with Art as the two of you started the walk back to your dorm. “She mentioned a frat party happening tonight. Since Patrick’s trapped in New York, I figured why not go?”

“There’s going to be a keg stand, a ton of alcohol, and some shitty DJ or something,” you added, glancing at a group of students touring the campus before turning back to Art.

Art nodded, slightly wincing at the mention of the keg stand. “Wow, sounds like a lot of fun,” he replied sarcastically, earning a nod of agreement from you.

“I was planning on skipping it, but Nathalie really wants me to go. I thought if you came with me, it might actually be fun. Better than wallowing in my room wishing Patrick was here,” you admitted, biting your lip.

"Well, we had fun at that party last Friday, you remember right?" Art asked, smirking.

"Remember is a strong word," you replied, shaking your head with a laugh. "I think I have bits and pieces from that night. I do remember waking up still drunk at noon with my t-shirt on backwards and you snoring next to me in bed. Also like 5 missed calls from Patrick."

Art flashed you a lopsided grin. "Well, your bed's comfy, but I thought I was going to roll off in the middle of the night."

"Well, I stayed in my corner, I was flush against the wall as you were all sprawled out making yourself at home on my bed," you teased, nudging him playfully.

As you approached your dorm building, you noticed Art’s phone buzz. He glanced at it quickly, fumbling to put it away as a smile grew on his face. “What’s with the grin, weirdo?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

“Oh, nothing. Just a funny text,” Art replied too quickly, stuffing his phone back into his pocket.

You rolled your eyes. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”

“Who, me? Who said I’m lying, I’m the picture of innocence,” Art said defensively.

You shook your head. “Sure you are. Anyway, I think I’m gonna drop my stuff on the floor, crawl into bed, and maybe take a nap. Maybe we can think about that party, I can call you at 11 so we can pregame.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Art said with a nod. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

You smiled gratefully as the two of you ascended the stairs to your floor. Art talked animatedly about his plans for the weekend while you half-listened, preoccupied with thoughts of collapsing onto your bed and taking a deserved long nap.

"Yeah anyways, I'm thinking of catching up on some studying, this english class is kicking my ass," Art continued, unaware of your drifting attention. "Maybe I’ll go on a run later though. You could join me if you wanted, if you’re up."

"Maybe," you replied absentmindedly, reaching a hand into your tote bag sifting for your keys.

As you reached your door, frustrated with your bag, you dropped your tennis bag and lifted your whole tote up, practically sticking your face in it to find your keys. "I hate these fucking tote bags, I can’t find shit," you grumbled to Art, feeling a tap on your shoulder.

Startled, you turned around with a scowl— until you saw Patrick standing there, a mischievous grin on his face. "Patrick! What the fuck? What are you doing here-” you exclaimed, letting your tote bag fall to the floor and throwing your arms around him in a tight hug.

Patrick laughed, hugging you back just as tightly. "Surprise" he exclaimed, holding you close, smiling at Art over your shoulder.

You pulled back slightly, giving him an incredulous look. "You asshole! Trapped in New York with my parents, my ass!" you shook your head, playfully hitting him on the chest.

Patrick held his chest dramatically and leaned in, kissing your cheek lightly. "All part of the plan," he murmured. “Plus, I had a little help," he added, nodding towards Art, who was standing nearby with a smug expression.

You turned in Patrick's arms to face Art, scoffing in shock. "Art, you were in on this? You’re such a liar," you exclaimed.

Art shrugged. "Hey, I was just hosting him at my dorm while we were at practice. Technically, I didn’t lie—I just omitted a few details," he explained, grinning.

"How could you do this to me? Traitor!" you said dramatically, though a smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

Patrick wrapped his arms tighter around your waist, pulling you closer against him and resting his head on your shoulder. "Come on. You know it was worth it," he said, his tone teasing.

You sighed playfully, shaking your head at the pair of them. "I guess I can forgive you both this time," you conceded.

Patrick’s hand gently brushed through your hair as he settled his head into the curve of your neck. “You know I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me,” he said softly.

As you lingered in Patrick's embrace, you paused. "Wait, where's all your stuff?" you asked, pulling back slightly and turning to look up at him.

Patrick grinned, nodding towards your door. "In your dorm," he replied casually.

“Wow, Breaking and entering," you quipped, crossing your arms squinting at Art.

Art interjected with a laugh, "Actually, perfectly legal entering. You're the one who gave me a spare key."

You shook your head, "That's for emergencies, Art," you retorted, shooting him a mock glare.

Patrick turned you around to face him, his hands resting gently on your shoulders. "Come on, admit it, you're impressed," he teased.

You sighed, "I'm shocked you guys were able to pull this off, honestly," you admitted, shaking your head with amusement. Patrick laughed softly, rubbing your back soothingly.

Reluctantly pulling away from Patrick's arms, you grabbed your tote bag from the floor, turning to face Art and Patrick. "As much as this hallway talk is very exciting, I seriously need to find my keys. I'm exhausted," you declared half-joking.

After a brief search through your bag, you finally located your keys nestled among your belongings. Patrick picked up your tennis bag with a playful grin, indicating his readiness to follow you inside.

"Alright, Art, thank you," Patrick called out over his shoulder as you unlocked the door.

Art waved casually. "Have fun, be safe you two. I'll see you later," he replied as he walked down the hallway.

As the two of you entered your dorm room, you barely had enough time to place your bags on the floor before Patrick closed the gap between you and him and crashed his lips onto yours. His hands pulled you against him as he pressed your back against the door, placing his hands on either side of you almost boxing you in. His kisses were sloppy, teeth colliding as his lips moved against yours, hands desperately roaming your body, as if he couldn't get close enough to you.

You responded eagerly, melting into his embrace, your own hands finding their way into his hair, tugging him closer. His lips moved hungrily against yours, his tongue tracing your lower lip, hands roaming over your back, then up to cradle your face, pushing strands of hair away as he deepened the kiss.

"Patrick," you managed to gasp between kisses, your chest rising and falling with each breath. "I... I need to put my stuff away," you painted, reluctantly pulling back

Patrick leaned back, a mischievous smirk on his face, moving over to lean against your desk. "Sure," he murmured, his gaze lingering on you as you took out some things from your bag. "So, how was practice?" he asked, his voice low, as he looked you up and down.

You scoffed, a hint of satisfaction playing on your lips as you organized. "Heinous. I keep getting paired with this girl on the team who can't return any of my serves," you replied exasperatedly, glancing over at him.

Patrick raised an eyebrow, "maybe you should just go easy on her."

You shook your head, clicking your tongue in frustration. "I've tried to go easy on her, but she can't even play me when I do that. She acts like it's my fault she can't play for shit," you paused to sigh.

Patrick grinned, tracing a hand up and down your arm. "We both know you're too good for stanford women's tennis," he murmured, moving from the desk to stand behind you, his hands coming to rest on your hips and giving them a quick squeeze.

You whipped your head around, rolling your eyes and scoffing at his comment. "Careful," you say firmly.

Patrick put his hands up in mock surrender, his cocky grin never faltering. "Alright, alright. Sorry, my bad," he said. "You're right."

As an unspoken apology, Patrick moved closer, his hands gently moving up to your waist as he leaned in to kiss your neck softly. His lips left a warm trail on your skin, "I missed you," he murmured between kisses, his breath hot against your ear. “So much.”

You tilted your head slightly, allowing him better access, closing your eyes briefly to savor the sensation. "I missed you too," you hummed, your voice softening as you turned to face him fully. Your hands came to rest on his chest. "You know, I wish you would’ve just told me you were coming," you teased, carding your fingers through his hair.

Patrick's playful demeanor softened as he gazed into your eyes, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Sorry again," he murmured sincerely, his breath mingling with yours. "Do you still love me?" he asked, clearly teasing and testing you.

You couldn't help but smile, your fingers threading through the strands of his hair at the nape of his neck. "I still love you, even with your elaborate lies," you replied, planting a sweet kiss on his lips. "But I have to say I knew something was up. Art was being weirder than normal."

Patrick hummed, his hands gently caressing your sides as he leaned in for another kiss.

"Hey? Are you even listening to me?" you asked, blinking up at him, a playful smirk tugging at your lips.

Patrick paused, his forehead resting against yours as he looked into your eyes. "Sorry, what did you say? I was a little distracted," he said, smiling.

You laughed softly, giving him a light shove. “I said Art was acting weirder than normal. I could tell he was hiding something.”

He shook his head and grinned, suddenly, he scooped you up over his shoulder, eliciting a surprised laugh from you as he carried you to the bed. Playfully flopping you down, his hands on either side of your head as he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips warm and insistent.

"So, what's our plan for tonight?" he asked between kisses, his fingers tracing light patterns on your sides.

You sighed softly, your words catching in your throat as his kisses became more fervent. "Well, there's this party my friend invited me to," you managed to say, struggling to speak coherently. "But last time I went out with Art, it was a shit show," you paused, trying to focus as his lips trailed down your collarbone, "but you're here, so we can do… whatever you want," you finally managed to say, your voice breathless with desire.

"Can we?" Patrick teased, his tone dripping with innuendo, his kisses becoming more urgent and needy.

You sighed deeply, rolling your eyes. "You know, you're impossible," you muttered, shaking your head. "But yes, we can."

Patrick grinned triumphantly, his hands roaming over your body as he leaned in to kiss you again, his hunger for you evident in every touch and movement. "Good," he murmured against your lips. "I think I just want you to be myself tonight."

"Freaky," you quipped, biting your tongue to hide a laugh.

With a self-assured grin, Patrick swiftly removed his T-shirt, revealing his lean and tan body. His gaze never left yours as he leaned back in, his lips finding yours with intensity. Your fingers traced lightly over his chest as you meshed together, and through kisses, you opened your eyes for a moment, gaze fixed on the freckles dotting his nose and cheeks.

"You've got more freckles," you observed with a playful smile, pulling back slightly, teasingly tracing each tiny mark with your fingertip.

Patrick grinned warmly, his eyes crinkling as he removed his lips from yours pulling you into a tight hug. "You're so cute," he murmured, squeezing you against him. His hands gently moved up to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he pulled you closer, lips looking for another kiss with a soft sigh of contentment slipping out. His gaze, filled with adoration and longing, locked onto yours, silently expressing his deep affection.

"Fuck, you're so pretty," he whispered, his voice low and filled with awe. You locked eyes with him, your own expression softening as you smiled, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.

Without breaking eye contact, Patrick's hands moved to the hem of your T-shirt, his touch almost insistent. He lifted the fabric, exposing your skin to the cool air and his heated gaze, with the T-shirt slipped over your head and thrown to the floor, forgotten. His gaze traveled downward, taking in the sight of you, bare-chested in front of him, a cheeky grin began to spread across his face. 

You rolled your eyes, whacking his arm. "Are you 13?" you teased.

Patrick laughed, unfazed as his hands and mouth roamed your newly exposed skin, his lips moving back to your collarbone, placing soft kisses along its length. Your remaining clothes were shed in a flurry, falling to the floor as you both moved with urgency desperately reconnecting.

Finally, as your kisses slowed and the two of you were breathing somewhat heavily, you rolled onto him, resting your head on his chest. His arms wrapped around you instinctively, pulling you close, with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

"I love you," Patrick murmured softly, placing a lovingly sweet kiss onto your forehead.

You met his gaze with a soft smile. "Is that just because we had incredible reunion sex?" you teased lightly, a playful challenge in your voice. "Or do you love me all the time?"

Patrick laughed, his fingers moving up and down on your back. "Only for the sex, it's usually worth the plane ticket," he teased back, with a smile. "Just kidding. I love you all the time," he replied earnestly, as a grin started forming on his face.

Leaning up from his chest, you pressed a sloppy kiss against his mouth, your hands tangling into his hair as you felt the corners of his lips curve into a smile against yours. "I knew it," you murmured against his lips, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Say it back," Patrick urged with a playful grin, attempting to deepen the kiss, but you playfully pulled away before he could capture your lips again.

Rolling your eyes theatrically, you feigned annoyance, though your smile betrayed your true feelings. "Fine," you replied, leaning in to kiss him once more. "I love you too, freak."

[hyewka]

warnings. switch!taehyun, angsty, small little continuity to this plot

coming back to expand on this because something about an insecure taehyun, who has been cheated on in a past relationship, who suspects you’re hiding something grave from him is eating away at my heart because imagine THAT in bed. he doesn’t want to not trust you, he thinks its really all in his head but he needs you to reassure him. he just doesnt know how to ask without scaring you off. usually, taehyun takes the charge but when you come back home one day, and he’s already there sitting on your couch, youre a bit taken aback (until you remember giving him a spare key). he tells you he just wanted to cuddle up with you because he knows how tired and stressed you get after work, you completely believe him and sigh, slumping down on the couch next to him.

whole time, hes fidgeting, shaking his leg. he hasnt been serious about anybody ever since that relationship. hes so sure youre the one, but he just wants you to ease his heart, just a little bit.

when you end up stumbling back in your bedroom, giggling lazily as he takes your shirt off over your head, he notices a hickey.

when he claims your mouth in a deep, dominating kiss, leaving you breathless and dizzy, he notices the faint whisper of a not too foreign name as you moan against him. he convinces himself fully that he’s imagining it all. that hes such a terrible boyfriend for assuming the worst of you because of his past experiences. who is he to spill all his insecurities onto you? hes not going to become that type of boyfriend—he wont.

but it gets the best of him.

when he burries his face into the crook of your neck, taking your scent in a sharp inhale, he mutters something you dont catch. “you smell different,”

“how long has it been since you hung out with beomgyu?”

that you hear. your eyes visibly clear up and theres a slight hesitance before you speak, “march, around his birthday. why?”

“really?” he lets out a breath, bumping his nose against yours as his hand work to get your pants off. “nothing, nothing. thank you.”

you dont get to question that before you feel his fingers start to gather up your slick, slowly inserting digits in. you gasp softly, so eager to have him inside of you already.

when hes sheathed completely inside of you, he pauses at a hilt and he takes the time to lock eyes with you. but then again, he sees you closing your eyes. youve been doing this a lot lately, he hates it. he doesnt tell you but he hates it. “open your eyes princess.”

“m-move, fuck me already..” you whine, completely ignoring his request, the bratty side of you coming out a bit.

but tonight, its as if he wasnt really in the mood to play a role because his voice breaks when he says a firm “please.”

the last thing you expect when you flutter your eyes open is to see such a look on his face. you furrow your eyebrows. “taehyun? are you —"

he shuts you up, moaning into the heated kiss he pulls you in, his lean body pressed flush against you as he feels your fingers tangle into his hair. his thrusts pick up a pace very fast, and he gets delirious very fast.

taehyun can barely form coherent words for the first time ever, overwhelmed with all the conflicting emotions inside of him. all he knows is that he needs you, your approval, your love.

at that thought, clarity washes over him and his finally able to say something clearly. “i love you.” he whispers.

then he says it louder, “i love you. i love you so much. i love you.”

it clearly catches you off guard but if it the smile that spreads across your face was any indication, it was that you were happy. your arms that hang off his shoulder get firmer around his nape as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of you. he grunts, his breath getting heavier.

“took you so long.” you laugh lightheartedly, and a shaky smile of his own plays at his glistening lips.

“you’ve been keeping track?” he huffs out in mock disbelief.

“duh, kang taehyun.” you tease, your fingers tracing patterns on his back. “i love you’s a big statement. was counting down the days until i could break up with you if you didnt blurt it out already.”

your joke comes out a bit uneven, the intensity of the moment making it difficult to keep a steady voice.

he doesnt share the teasing spirit for long because his face falls slightly, “what about you?” he asks softly, his gaze searching yours. “do you…”

his question hangs in the air, filled with a vulnerability that you’ve rarely seen in him. he bats his lashes at you so cutely you dont think he notices, but it has you grin even wider, reaching out to wipe at the small bead of sweat running down his face. his eyes follow your every move—they twinkle so pretty in the dimness of your room. you can see the unspoken hopes and fears swirling within them, and it makes your chest tighten with affection. and you know.

you know what he needs to hear, what he’s been waiting for.

“i love you too. of course i love you.”

then he snaps—he loses all control he thought he had.

he thrusts into you even faster, slamming his hips against yours with reckless abandon.

you don’t know how much those words mean, you cant even begin to grasp the gravity of it all. it’s like a drug seeping into his veins, intoxicating and exhilarating, the euphoria spreading through him.

“again,” he whines, his voice low. “say it again.”

youre not sure where this neediness is coming from but your pleasure increases tenfold. you brush a damp strand away from his forehead. “i love you, taehyun.” you say earnestly.

you can feel the heat radiating off his skin, the muscles in his back tensing and flexing beneath your fingers as you grip him tighter. “again…again, please” he breathes out in your ear, his pace getting sloppier as he loses himself in you.

you say it again and he leans into you, his hot breath fanning against your neck as he buries his face into your chest, his sobbing growing louder as he cums inside you, filling you up with his seed.

he doesnt stop slowly moving inside of you as his cock softens even after you cum, and you hiss a bit at the overstimulation. “i cant do a second round, love.”

he sighs against yours skin happily, “unlocked a new petname?”

you only realize the slip when he points it out causing you to laugh lightly. “shut up, dont get used to it.” you joke.

this is where you’re supposed to be, in the embrace of the love of your life. something stable, something you can make something out of.

[agaypanic]

can you do a rodrick one shot where you're best friends and you're in love with him but he's too obsessed over Heather to notice? and you finally tell him after he's upset about how her birthday party ended up . a little smutty

Wish I Was Heather (Rodrick Heffley X Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Rodrick’s obsession with Heather Hills makes him blind to the fact that you, his best friend, have been in love with him for a long time. When Heather’s birthday party turns into a fiasco and Rodrick thinks no one will ever love him, you finally decide to tell him the truth.

A/N: kinda based on heather by conan gray, and a small reference to the og second verse of the song. not too canon compliant with dog days bc i dont really remember the plot of it. alludes to smut a bit but isn’t explicit

***

It was a miserable sight. As sad music played, you were lying in bed, curled up in Rodrick’s checkered hoodie. Your best friend was playing with his band at Heather Hills’ birthday party. It seemed that he was absolutely in love with her, and you couldn’t really blame him. Sure, she wasn’t the nicest person, but she was popular and beautiful. It never surprised you when you were talking to Rodrick about something, and all of a sudden, he would tune you out just because she was walking past him.

Sometimes, you wished you could be her so Rodrick would look at you that way. Even kiss her just to see what your best friend really saw in her.

If you had to guess, he’s probably confessing to her right now. He said he would, that tonight was the night. Although she had never done anything to you, and you didn’t want Rodrick to hurt, you slightly hoped that she’d stomp on his heart just so you wouldn’t lose him to her.

It wasn’t fair. Him being so mesmerized by Heather Hills when you were right there.

You groaned as you felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. You didn’t want to be bothered, yet you still reached into your pocket and pulled out the device, squinting at your suddenly bright screen.

Roddy

can i come over?

You knit your brows in confusion as you read the message. Of all people, you weren’t expecting Rodrick to text you. And of all messages, you didn’t expect him to ask to come over. To be honest, you were pretty sure that he was busy trying to shove his tongue down Heather Hills’ throat.

Before you could respond, he sent another text.

Roddy

pls :(( 

You

what’s up?

Roddy

party sux

You sighed. Part of you liked the fact that Rodrick was turning to you to cure his boredom, but you wished he saw you as more than entertainment. You wished even more that you didn’t give in to him so easily.

You

window’s unlocked

Less than a minute after you sent your message, you jumped at the sound of something, or rather someone, at the aforementioned window. You turned your head just enough to see Rodrick hanging onto your drain pipe as he opened the window.

“Hey.” He said quietly, falling through the opening and onto your floor. You turned to lay flat on your back, staring up at the ceiling while Rodrick flopped onto the bed next to you.

“Hi.” You looked over at Rodrick, finding his face a mess. His messy eyeliner was messier than usual, and he looked exhausted and miserable. “What happened to you?”

“Heather Hills.” The name was said with a pout and whine instead of the usual captivated tone.

“What about her?” You didn’t mean to ask, not wanting to hear about his obsession with the girl any more than you’ve already had. But curiosity got the best of you.

“I pretty much ruined her birthday party. Now there’s no way she’ll ever go out with me.” You snorted, wondering what he must have done. Rodrick looked offended at your reaction, but continued. “It was a complete disaster. I had Ben play the drums so I could sing, and we did that one Justin Beiber song. I tried to hold her hand, but… I ended up knocking over an ice sculpture.” You couldn’t help but laugh. It was strange how the misfortune of the person you loved regarding the girl he was obsessed with was bringing you out of your own miserable mood. “Then she tried hitting me with a microphone stand, but she hit the chocolate fountain. After that, I thought I should make a run for it.”

You were full-on belly laughing at the visuals Rodrick was giving you, no matter how much you tried to contain yourself. Rodrick frowned at you, so you slapped your hand over your mouth to muffle yourself.

“Only something like that could happen to you, Roddy.” You giggled, but it died down when his lip started to tremble. This scared you; you rarely ever saw Rodrick like this. “What? What’s wrong?”

“What if that was my one chance?” He asked, his voice small. He turned onto his side, facing you and curling up. You mirrored his position. “Like, what if that was the only shot I’d ever get with a girl, and I just blew it? What if no girl ever wants to be with me?”

“Oh, that’s not true, Roddy.” You cooed, patting his arm. “Don’t be dramatic, girls like you.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just know.”

“Prove it.” He took your silence as confirmation that you couldn’t, and he clicked his tongue. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“Rodrick.” You sighed, shifting closer to him. “Girls do like you.” You figured now would be as good a time as any to tell your best friend that you were in love with him, even if it was just to make him feel better. “I know one girl likes you, at least.”

“Who?” He gave a short laugh of disbelief, looking down at you. 

You were too scared to say it. So, instead, you reached for his hand, slowly interlocking your fingers as you looked at him. Rodrick didn’t say anything, either trying to come up with a response or not getting your little hint at all.

“I know I can never be Heather.” You start, the both of you cringing a bit at the name. It seemed that the girl brought a sour taste to both of your mouths now. “But I love you for you, Rodrick.” Feeling brave, your free hand went to cup his jaw, and he seemed to relax under your touch. Something came over you, and you bit your lip to try to contain yourself. “I can show you…”

For someone who didn’t usually get clues, Rodrick seemed to know what you were alluding to, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise. He seemed like he was about to agree, but he stopped himself. 

“You don’t have to do that… You know, just to make me feel better.”

“I want to.” You responded quickly. “I mean, if you want to, obviously. But if you don’t, then we can just pretend I never-”

Rodrick cut you off by pressing his lips to yours, and they soon moved in tandem. Hands turned greedy with their grips, and soon Rodrick was rolling to lay on top of you.

You’d probably regret this later. But for now, you didn’t care. Even if you weren’t Heather or whoever Rodrick probably wished you were, you were the one that was in your bed with him. You could worry about the aftermath and consequences later because all that mattered now was you and Rodrick and what was about to happen as you took off your clothes, starting with Rodrick’s hoodie that he gently pulled off of you.

And as he kissed you and grasped at your hips, Rodrick realized that the girl of his dreams was never Heather. She was right beneath him, shuddering at his touches and whispering sweet nothings that would be everything to him.

***

Rodrick Heffley Taglist: @tweedledipshit

[leqonsluv3r]

liquid courage

infinite darkness!leon x f!reader

summary: reader worries about leon, she goes over to check on him. they end up drinking from there...and things get heated.

warnings/tags: MDNI, foul language, porn with (very little) plot, drunken behavior, mentions of alcohol, age gap (reader is 24, leon is 36 (my lore is probably wrong, dont kill me pls), dom!leon, sub!reader, unprotected pnv action (wrap or don't slap it), pet names (baby, babygirl), daddy!kink, oral (f recieving), praise, dirty talk, hickies and bruises, humping/grinding (reader literally cums in her underwear LOL). mentions of pain during seggs, and other foul stuff i forgot.

an: chat.ai got me all worked up, so here we are. sit back and enjoy pls and ty. also pls roblog <3 and lmk if u wanna be in my tag list.

You and Leon had a complicated "relationship".

He was your next-door neighbor in the loft building that had many, upon many units. He never rarely said anything to you ever, just occasional "hi's" and "hello's" in passing. Just to be polite, neighborly even.

There were times though when you would catch him looking at you as you went out in the hall to go somewhere, you two bumping into each other, he would scan your body...almost eye-fucking you.

Or maybe it was just in your imagination, you weren't ever sure.

Still, the thought of him fucking you for real...made your panties pool with want and need. If just his eyes could do that...you couldn't imagine what else you were missing out on.

You knew that he was always almost never home, probably working or something. You had your suspicions that maybe he was spending time at a girl's place or that he was occupying someone else's time.

You had barely said a word to the man, yet, that thought made you jealous and almost predatorily angry. Because you just knew, the way he walked and the way he carried himself...that he knew what he was doing.

He did have his moments, where he broke the silence. One day, he knocked on your door, holding a package out to you.

Not just any package...a vibrator.

Dear god, you wanted to coil up into a ball.

"I think this is yours..." he said, sticking out his large hand that held your sex toy. He didn't even look embarrassed...like you did. Cheeks all red and flustered, staring dumbly as he held out the package to you.

You couldn't stop staring at his hands, the one that held your package. The thoughts of what he could do to you with those hands made your pussy flutter, naughty images filling your brain.

You finally got words out, "Uh, y-yeah...that's mine." you reached out slowly and grabbed the package from him, your fingers brushing. Electric jolts to your body and the small contact. He smirked a little, eyeing you (like he would sometimes do), "Boyfriend not satisfying you?"

Holy fuck, you thought as you parted your lips a little.

"N-No boyfriend..." you nervously stutter out as you feel his eyes grazing your body. He hummed, nodding slowly, almost confirming his suspicions.

"Thats a shame..." he starts trailing off. "Pretty girl like you, should have a boyfriend." He said with a tilt of his lips, your eyes widened a little and you tried not to let a gasp escape your pink lips.

You didn't even say anything, not until he said bye and walked back next door to his apartment. You watched him go, trying to process the words that he had said to you...the way he looked at you.

God, his gaze, you felt so hot underneath it. Like a reptile under a heated lamp.

You closed the door and walked back into the threshold of your apartment, ripping the box to the vibrator open and charging it while you still had the pool between your thighs.

That's where your crush started...you whiny and moaning under your toy as you thought of him fucking you. It was almost pathetic, he didn't even know you existed, yet you were coming undone on your own accord at the thought of him.

"Daddy...please..." you moaned to yourself, chanting it like a mantra as you came fast. It was embarrassing, thrilling and fun but you felt like a naive little girl with a crush on a man you could never have.

After that, you tried to get yourself involved in anything involving him. You found that harder than actually planned so you decided that maybe looking him up would be a good idea.

Just to know a little more about him.

You typed his name into the search bar, a thousand results popped up but only one interested you. ROOKIE COP UNDER SIEGE you read. The rest of the article was basically outlining a strange occurrence in Raccoon City...involving a younger looking Leon.

It was his offical police issued picture that he took and... He looked...so small and just...innocent. The other picture in the article was of him...but he looked different.

His mouth was pressed in a firm line, jolting blue eyes looking straightforward at the camera, then...his eyes. His eyes didn't look hopeful and full of life like they were in the other one you saw.

They looked...like he had seen something, witnessed something truly awful and you had no idea what. The article states that the incident was unreported and handed over to the government.

'21 YEAR OLD COP' it read...and that was years ago...that meant...he was 36 by now. A lot older than you...

And my lord, did he age well. Even at 36 he still had his looks going for him...and you knew that the age gap between you both was large but...you still wanted him.

You closed your computer and leaned back on the couch, you couldn't even do much except wait for him to show up or "conveniently" bump into him out in the hallway.

So, you just had to sit back and wait, wait until you saw him again or until your curiosity got the better of you.

Turns out, time was definitely not in your favor, not one bit.

Days passed, weeks, and eventually a month...

You thought you were never going to see Leon again, ever, he was always working or never home. You just wanted to see him, so one day...after getting off the computer from working all day, you decided to go next door and knock.

No harm, no foul...right?

You had just convinced yourself that you were doing the neighborly thing and going to check in on him.

You got dressed into a lavender lace underwear set, sliding on your favorite sundress. You brushed your hair out...you even shaved. You weren't expecting anything to happen but you just wanted to be prepared...right?

So you nervously walked out your front door and went next door, each footstep felt heavy as you stepped towards the oak. You didn't know if you should knock or...ring his bell...

Both made you feel like your heart was about to beat right out of your chest and catapult into the sky.

"I wonder..." you reached your hand towards the doorhandle, twisting it a little. You expected it to be locked and you'd just have to knock to see if he was home but...it opened and you gasped.

You walked into the apartment, knocking on the door as you entered.

And what you saw...shocked you a little.

Leon was resting on the couch, nursing a drink, a ton of other bottles were littered on the coffee table in front of him. You had no idea how much he had actually consumed but you stepped in and softly closed the front door behind you.

It felt wrong to be here, witnessing him like this, but curiosity poked at you so you stepped further in, going towards the living room where he was sat. He didn't even acknowledge your presence until you came up to the opposite side of the couch.

"What do you want?" his voice was tired and deep, gravelly as if he had been up for days. But god, he looked so damn good and you hated yourself for how your eyes scanned his face as he said it.

"I-I just came to check on you, your front door was unlocked." you say softly, motioning to the door behind you. Leon didn't say anything, he took another sip of his whiskey. "Seems you took happy hour a little bit too literal..." you laugh nervously.

He tossed back the remaining liquor in his glass and lazily looked over at you with dark eyes, "And what if I did?" his voice was sharp, he seemed bothered that you were even there to begin with.

Which you understood, you basically just walked in unannounced into his apartment. But...you were glad that you showed up when you did. He did not look his best and judging by the bottles littered on the coffee table, he had been at this awhile.

"You shouldn't be drinking alone, just saying." you commented, sitting on the arm of the couch. Your eyes scanned him as you waited his response. He spoke after a beat of silence, "Why not?" he pours more liquor into his glass.

"I got my own problems...and they aren't yours." Leon followed up, tossing some of his hair out of his eyes. He held the glass in his hand, sloshing it around and sending a small glare to where you sat on the arm of his couch.

You decide to take the moral high ground and not argue with him, "Because I want to help but you're being a stubborn ass...so." you pop out your lips and carefully take a seat on the couch next to him.

He leans forward as he looks at you, "and why do you even care?" he harshly said, taking another small sip of whiskey. That was a question, why did you care? You've always cared about people, but you were too stubborn to admit that that to him.

"I don't..." you said slowly. "You have made it obvious that I don't need to care about you." you mutter, looking away from him and at all the bottles sitting on the table in front of you.

Reverse psychology, works everytime. You smirk to yourself.

He leans back onto the couch cushions, eyeing you, "So if you don't care..." He trails off. "Why are you still here?" he asks with a stern tone, no harshness but just. Curiosity.

Because I wanted to check on you...and I want you to bend me over the table and rail me. You thought with a shake of your head, you could not say that...god, you sounded insane and...horny.

You just settle for, "It's complicated." as you lean back onto the couch, the dress pooling around your thighs as you do. "I do care...maybe...a little." or a lot, your brain corrects.

He sets his glass down, leaning towards you. "Well, if you care about me, get me another damn drink." He was being playful with his words, but his eyes still pierced your skin, all dark.

Disappointment pooled a little in your stomach at that, "That's all? That's all you want?" you blink at him. "Just more...alcohol..." you didn't let the disappointment in your eyes falter a little.

He speaks up as you adjust a little on the couch, "What do want me to say?" he takes another swig from his almost empty glass, looking over at you. "I'm an alcoholic...you want me to apologize? To say I'll change? Cause you and me both know that's a load of crap." Hiis tone sharpens as he says that, he scrunches his face up, almost wincing at his words.

"...you going to get me that drink?" he asks, his tone suddenly 10x calmer than before. You swallow and get up from his couch, "Fine. Whatever, doesn't matter." you clear your throat before going over to where his alcohol is sat on the counter.

You grab a glass off of the drying rack by the sink, an idea forming in your head. If you were going to be bold, best to have some liquid courage. So, you grab the glass and the other bottle of whiskey on the counter.

Leon was leaning back against the cushions of the couch, his hand running through his brown hair. When you come back into the room, you unscrew the lid on the bottle, not even looking at him, pouring some whiskey into his glass.

He sees her set down a glass too, as she sits down on the couch beside him. "Hey, uh, thanks." He looks at the drink and then back at you. You smooth the fabric of your dress out against your thighs.

Leon clears his throat, "You know what, how about we drink together?" He reaches out and grabs his glass, motioning towards the empty one you brought out. "Go ahead."

You don't need to be asked twice, he had taken the bait...or maybe he had planned this but deep down you doubted it. You take the glass, filling it up a little bit with the amber liquid.

You sigh a little, leaning back on cushions, taking a sip of the burning liquor. "Thanks."

He looks at your glass that rests in between your hand, on top of your eyes before they flit back up to your face. "So..." he fills the silence with his voice as you look over at him. "...What is this 'complicated thing' you have to say to me?" He quirks a brow at you.

I want you to absolutely ruin me...

You take another sip of the liquid as you look away from him, "Nothing, s' stupid." you say quietly, mumbling into your glass. The alcohol was starting to take affect a little bit. The small sips you've had burned your throat, but they urged you to stay sitting next to him on the couch.

He pauses then shakes his head, "No no," He looks over into your eyes. You look up at him as he talks, "you can't start a conversation and then back out." Leon takes another sip of his drink as he says this, eyes boring into you. His tone being playful and stern.

You rake a hand through your hair, taking another sip of whiskey.

"I can't even entertain the idea because...i'm 24 and you're...older." You admit bravely with a blush covering your face, taking a large gulp of the whiskey, throwing it back all at once. You felt his eyes bore holes into you as your heart almost pounds right out of your chest.

Leon stares at you for a beat and then shakes his head, "So?" he pauses and then speaks through a sigh. "Just because we got an age gap doesn't mean anything...unless you think I'm still dating high school girls."

You gulp, reaching forward and pouring more whiskey into your glass, then leaning back as he continues. "You think I'd try making a move on you?" Leon's deep blue eyes bore into your head as he's scanning your features, trying to read your reaction.

You blink a couple times, a blush still covering your face as you take a swig of the whiskey. "S' a little more complicated than that, Leon." you breathe.

Calm down, he's not gonna pounce on you, you think. But you would probably like it anyways.

"Well then, do you want to tell me, 'What's more complicated than that' or just keep beating around the damn bush?" He keeps glancing from his drink to you. Your breath stutters as you bring the glass back up to your lips, drinking another small gulp.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was you being truly bold but the next words you said put everything into motion for the rest of the night.

You inhale another gulp of air, looking over at him, trying not to look him directly into the eyes as you said this. "Maybe I've...thought about...you making a move on me..." you swallow.

"...and I've not entirely hated the idea." you admit to him, the silence of the room stretched around you and him as you said the words.

He pauses, you can see it out of your prochiral vision. "...What?" he says. Leon glances back down at his drink, his dark brown hair moving with him before he looks back up at you.

Raising a brow, he asks, "You're into me?"

And you swear your stomach might just fall out of your ass, you take a swig of whiskey, slowly. Shifting a little bit, crossing your legs so the fabric moves a little on your thighs.

"Well when you put it like that..." you sigh, looking down at the glass in your lap. "I might be...yeah." you admit.

"But it doesn't matter. Your older and you just...your way more mature than me and I'm just some stupid little 24-year-old girl with a dumb crush." You surprisingly admit, tossing back more whiskey. Your sober thoughts had started to come out the more you consumed his liquor.

You down the rest of the glass, waiting for him to say something beside you. You wouldn't dare look at him, he was so beautiful and just...god, you wanted him inside of you...

He swigs down the rest of his glass like you did only moments earlier. Leon rests both arms on the couch and looking up at you. His eyes were locked on you.

"I want you to answer me, honestly." His voice is slow and serious, stern. Almost like a father disciplining you, the thought of him ordering you around like that...it made your pussy throb for him.

"Yeah?" you ask, waiting for him to ask you whatever he needs to.

He steadies himself as he looks at her, responding, "Do you honestly think this can work? For a guy like me to start something with a girl like you?" Leon takes another sip of his alcohol as he looks at you again.

You listen to him speak, desperation and disappointment pooling in your belly as he talks. "...I work for a secret government agency, that no one knows about, I do...unsavory things for the good of this country and for people. I'm not the kind of guy you want to get mixed up with." He says slowly, warning you.

The message is loud and clear to you: don't start something you can't finish, especially with me.

Challenge accepted, you think.

"I know what you've done Leon..." you bravely say, looking at him with innocent eyes. "I'm not some naive girl, I've done my research." You toss more of the whiskey back into your mouth as you say this.

He looks up at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, he was trying to understand why you were defending him heavily. Leon was trying to even understand why you were over here in the first place.

He grips his glass a little, you watch him do this as he speaks again, envious of the glass in his hand.

"Then you also know the risks of being with someone like me?" Leon looks at you, scanning your body, his gaze dark. You swallow and slowly raise your glass back up to your lips, taking another sip of your drink.

He got you there. you think as you try to come up with a response that doesn't make you sound needy or desperate, even though you were.

But he didn't need to know that.

You press your thighs together, his gaze making want pool in your panties. "A-And what would I be risking exactly?" you say softly, your innocent eyes looking at him.

Leon exhales, tossing back the rest of his glass before sitting it on the coffee table in front of him. "Everything." he mutters. He pinches his brow as he leans back on the couch.

"You're 24, a damn kid to me, and if you honestly think it'll be easy sailing with me then just think...about all the ways that it could go wrong." He closes his eyes with a sigh, not out of frustration but out of the risk he would be taking...just to be with you.

His eyes scan your face for understanding, "If something happens to you...then I'd be the one to blame. Do you understand?" You blink and sit your glass down on coffee table next to his, releasing a breath.

You lean back on the couch, your back meeting the large cushions, yet again, and the heaviness that his words carried sobered you up. He trusted you with his secret, he was trying to make sure you were serious...that you weren't going to go running off on him.

He worked for the government, he told you and you realized that in that moment, he was probably not allowed to share such information. Especially, with you.

You did realize the weight of his words, what he was saying and trying to get you to understand.

"I'm...not a little kid, I know what I'm doing." You sigh, playing with the hem of your sundress, not daring to meet his eyes that were watching you with skepticism...almost wonder.

Leon nods, silently, thinking as he looks at the empty glass next to hers on the coffee table. "Why me? Why not someone your own age? Someone that doesn't work for the D.S.O?" he queries you with curious eyes.

You take a stuttering breath, admitting the truth. "None of the guys my age..." you start, trying to not let the alcohol fail you now. "...make me feel the way that you do...I don't know why but..." you shake your head as your face flushes, your eyes flitting up to meet his.

His eyes widen a little, if you weren't watching him so closely, you probably wouldn't notice the subtle shift. His tone shifts as he speaks, breathing out some air.

You watch him as he processes what you just said, looks like he had been slapped in the face. You almost want to take back your words, forget the pool in your underwear and leave but...then he speaks.

"You feel something...?" He trails off.

"Like what kind of...?" and you just press your thighs together and look at him with desperation in your eyes.

"I want..." you swallow. "You."

He doesn't say anything for a minute as he looks at you. Leon was processing your words, his eyes trailing down to your thighs that are pressed together, which just confirmed his thoughts.

You wanted this.

"I feel the same way..." He says, looking away towards his lap. You gasp a little at his words, your nerves still on fire. The alcohol buzzing through your body, making you feel electric at his eyes on you.

"But..." you didn't like the 'But', they were never good when spoken by a man you wanted.

"...just know what your getting yourself into..." His eyes return to yours as you bite the inside of your cheek, confusion at what he meant.

Did he mean in bed or...? because you could handle it. Or you would try for him...anything he wanted you would do.

Shamelessly enough, it made you aroused at the thought of him ordering you around. God, you just wanted him inside of you.

"As in? What?" you innocently ask, a knot forming in your lower stomach at the question.

Leon presses his lips into a line again, his harsh tone almost a bite as he speaks to you this time. You couldn't tell if he was just really impatient with you or if this was just his regular nature towards people.

"I already told you." He grumbles, leaning forward a little bit, elbows on his knees. "I'm not a good guy, not some knight in shining armor."

He shifts a little at this, continuing, "I do bad things for this country. Things that no one should have to do." The agent looks up at you, his eyes somewhat vulnerable. "Can you handle the things that I do?"

You just nod, vigorously.

Even though the thought of him having to kill people, kill things that were probably behind your comprehension. It scared you. But that was just the career he chose; it was his life, and he was the one to live it.

Not you.

His eyes turn dark in an instant, "Can you handle that part of me?"

You would be dripping on the couch by now if it wasn't for your underwear. You knew what he meant but the way he was looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

It made you want him even more, if that was even possible.

You take a stuttering breath, your nerves getting the best of you, yet again as your cheeks flush, "I mean...I've...not run away yet? Right?" you let out a nervous laugh at this.

"Gotta mean something..." you offer him a nervous smile.

It almost looks ridiculous in your head, the way you're smiling at him as he just looks at you almost no emotion on his face. His gaze serious and his eyes dark, made you feel foolish and small to him.

As if what you said or did, didn't make any difference in the slightest.

Leon stares at you for a long moment, his eyes scanning your face, looking at your lips. The air is thick in the room, his breathing and yours taking up the sound.

Thats before he pulls you towards him, saying in an almost groan, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

You land on top of him almost as your legs go either side of his lap, straddling him. He has you close now, exactly where he wants you. His hands planted firmly on your hips, pulling your face close to his.

You could feel his breath against your lips, you grabbed onto his shoulders, keeping yourself steady. Removing one of his hands off of your hip, reaching up to trace the large pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. You part them only slightly.

"How do you want me to handle you?" He smirks a little, his words only echos in your ears. You were practically leaking, sitting on his lap lightly.

The want in his eyes, he would melt you into a puddle on the floor if he really wanted to.

As innocent and as sweet as you can muster, you say, "However you want..." The alcohol was making you bolder, pushing you to say and do things that would make more sober you, blush red.

He lightly pulls down your bottom lip with his thumb, "Good. Because..." he leans closer to you now, slowly dropping his thumb away from your mouth. "I wanna do this." he whispers, pressing his lips to yours.

You hum into the kiss, not even wasting any time as you kiss him back in a daze. His lips were soft, even softer than you imagined, they felt good against yours.

His tongue teases your lips, you let him in, now kissing more messily and frantically. You were starved and he was feeding you, giving exactly what your touch starved body, desired.

"Taste so good, baby." He mumbles in between kisses, that only spurs you on more, pressing a bruising kiss too his lips. Leon groans against the kiss pressing you directly on to his crotch.

You felt his erection as you whimpered into the kiss, carefully rolling your hips against it. He felt so big and he probably wasn't even fully hard yet.

"What? Feel good? You like grinding down on my dick?" He whispers, pulling his lips away from you and moving them down to your jaw. The foul words made your stomach coil, you nodded as you pressed your clothed entrance against it again.

"God, baby, so needy." He sucks at the skin on your neck, making your pussy throb at his words. You keep grinding down on his dick as he groaned against your neck. "Fuck." you heard him say as you kept rolling your hips over his clothed erection.

"Feels s'good." You whimper, your voice breaking in desperation.

"I know, babygirl, fuck..." He groans as your hips keep up their unrelenting pace. He holds onto your hips for dear life as he keeps sucking and nipping at your neck.

You feel that coil unwind, feel yourself become closer as you release a soft moan, filling the air. Your hands hold onto his head, gripping his hair. "Leon..." you moan, pressing yourself harder on his clothed dick.

"What do you want baby? You wanna cum? Wanna cum for me?" He growls into your ear as you keep up the pace, feeling your stomach bubble. You bite your lip and nod.

"Use your words for me." He orders. You whimper and keep going, trying to find the words without releasing a moan instead. "W-Wanna cum for you d-" you stop yourself as you moan. Your eyes almost going wide at the word that almost slipped out of your lips.

"What was that? Couldn't hear you sweetgirl?" he teases, licking the sensitive part of your neck. You whine again, so close to your release, he grips your hips, stopping you from moving.

You almost cry, feeling your release just barely in your grasp. "What did you say baby? Be a good girl and use your words for me." he growls, holding your chin in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

You bite your lip at his hungry gaze, "Daddy..." you mutter.

His eyes don't widen and if he's shocked, he doesn't show it. You expected him to kick you out and to never see him again as you muttered it.

But to your surprise he looks up at you with hunger. "You want to suck on Daddies cock?" He growls, as you gasp and nod at his words. Not expecting him to just fall into your kink so easily, most guys are embarrassed to have you call them that in bed.

Most guys weren't Leon.

"Okay, baby, go ahead. Show me how good you feel." He releases the grip on your hips, letting you continue to grind against his clothed erection.

"Mmmm, want you so bad, daddy." you whimper as you keep rolling your hips down, harder, your release slowly building again. The friction was making you leak, probably dripping onto his dark jeans.

He groans, watching as your hips move over his. "What do you want Baby? My fingers?"

You shake your head, close to cuming in your underwear. "Want your cock, daddy. Been...wanting it...forever." You say through a moan. Keeping your assault against his hips.

"How long?" he grunts, holding onto your hips tightly as you move them frantically.

You lean back your head in a moan, the coil unwinding again, "Since...I first...saw you." you admit in a daze, letting your hands grip his biceps, probably drawing blood.

"Fuck...baby, if I knew you would've wanted this sooner. I would've just given it to you." He bites his lip in a whimper, he was probably about to cum in his pants. You were almost there, barely, you just needed his words and his touch for the coil to finally break.

You admit another thing, to get his attention as your fucking yourself against him, "I fucked myself to the thought of you..."

"How? Your fingers or..." he trails off in lust as he remembers a month ago when delivered that package to your door. How flushed you were as he stood there, eyeing him, and how you bit your cheek at his words.

"You fucking little..." he trails off in a moan, you roll your hips harder. "Fucked my vibrator, pretended it was your cock..." you moan again, rolling your head forward onto his shoulder.

You were reaching it, fast, you could feel it.

"Gunna cum, daddy, gunna cum." You whimper fucking your hips faster against his clothed erection. He has gripped onto your hips letting you come undone on top of him.

"Cum for me, baby." He growls.

"More, say more, so close..." You whine, into his shoulder.

Leon kept you steady as you rocked, trying to talk you through your impending orgasm. "Going to fuck you so good. You'll be feeling...it for days." he said.

"Oh god, daddy, yes..." you reach your peak, cuming hard in your underwear, basically ruined and soaked in your juices now. He softly touches your face, moving hair back behind your ear as you ride out your high against his erection.

Leon is the one to speak first afterwards and your thankful. Worried that he would be thinking it was awkward for you to have come undone just by humping him.

"How do you feel, baby?" He asks, his voice low but sweet as he traces his thumb over your cheek.

"Felt good, felt really good." You mumble to him. You look down between you at the wet spot you left on his jeans. "I'm sorry..." You start, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

He shakes his head, looking at you gently, "It's okay. I can just wash them." He is still tracing his finger over your cheek as looks at you, you don't know what he is thinking but it makes you nervous not knowing.

"Did you really mean what you said?" you ask, trying not to seem shy under his gaze when you literally just came undone on top of him.

"About what, baby?" He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip again. You blink slowly trying not to seem desperate or whiny, you still wanted him. You wanted him to fuck you. The release on his lap only made it worse.

"Fucking me...until I can't...walk or something like that?" you ask, nerves overtaking you again as you gaze into his blue eyes. Feeling him still hard beneath you.

"You still not satisfied, babygirl? You need daddy's cock?" He teases with a smirk, watching as you shiver underneath him with nothing but his words and his soft touch.

You nod frantically, he moves his other hand up to tuck some hair back behind your ear. "Words, use your words." He sternly says and you recoil a little at his order.

Something bubbled in your belly, you didn't know if it was his authority or...what but jesus. You wanted to do anything he asked.

"Yes, daddy, I want your cock." you say sweetly, trying not to seem nervous under his gaze and his hands slowly lifting up your sundress. He licks his lips, looking at the dark spot on his jeans from your cum.

"You made a mess on daddy's lap, baby. You've been naughty, very naughty. I don't think I should let you have my cock." Leon teases, smirking as he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers.

His cock was uncomfortably hard beneath you, made your want pool in your lower stomach all over again. “Daddy, please.” you whimper, pathetically, trying to roll your hips again.

“Just want you inside me…” you whimper, trying to get more friction, anything or everything. You don’t care anymore.

"I'll take care of you, baby. I'll be good to you." You whimper at his words, trying not to wiggle anymore for friction. He carefully lays you down on the couch, on your back.

He leans up and presses a bruising kiss to her lips, his hand stroking her thigh, “Such a good girl for me.” He mumbles in between languid strokes of his tongue.

You want him everywhere, you don’t know how much long you can keep this up, he already made you cum once and that wasn’t even by his own accord.

He reaches down and carefully runs a finger up her soaked underwear, pressing a sloppy kiss to your jaw as he does. Your chest is rising and falling as he teases your already soaked panties.

“Baby, you’re underwear is soaked.” He lowly chuckles as he presses another kiss to your lips. You whimper in anticipation as he plays with the hem of your panties.

Leon leans back, he smirks, “Or is that because you drenched yourself once already?” He asks as he finally pulls the underwear down your legs.

You nod frantically, not sure if he was actually asking or just commenting on your current state of arousal. He slips a hand through your wet folds, causing you to shiver.

"Use your words, babygirl." He says as he just brushes his finger lightly across your clit, causing you to whimper. You look up into his dark blue eyes, "S' all for you, daddy." You say as he pushes your sundress up with his hand.

"All that just from grinding on my dick, sweetheart?" He tuts, running his hand down your stomach and too your aching cunt. You writhe under him with another frantic nod.

He tuts, "You dirty girl." Leon smirks as he teases your clit again with his fingers, running the pad of his thumb over the sensitive bud. You shiver and feel a wave of arousal at his thumb's movements.

You let out a small moan as he continues to stroke it. This seems to catch his attention. You were already so needy and sensitive from the orgasm moments before.

"You think you can take my fingers, baby?" He groans as he continues to stroke your clit, you feel another orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach as you nod, "Yes, daddy."

He complies, seeing that your answer was good enough to slip one finger into your tight and needy cunt. "Uhh! Daddy!" you moan, his fingers were much larger and thicker than you even imagined, stretching you out beyond your imagination.

"You like that? You like my fingers fucking into your tiny hole, baby?" He whispers dirtily into your ear as you let out another strangled moan.

"Yes...yes!" You whine as your orgasm slowly builds again, he's pumping his finger in and out of you at a faster rate now, your whines and moans echo through the large loft apartment.

Leon keeps flicking his thumb over your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you, you grip onto his bicep so hard you think you might draw blood, again.

"What if I just..." he says lowly as he removes his finger, quickly adding a second one. "...do this?" you practically moan out, it's pathetic really because it's not even his cock that's got you like this.

It's two of his fingers pumping in and out of your drenched hole, stretching you out and making you edge closer to the second orgasm.

"Daddy! Please don't stop! Feels s' good." You say, biting your lip, your back arching off the couch as he finger fucks you into oblivion. You babble more about his fingers pumping in and out of you.

"My cock is going to feel so good inside of you, sweetheart." He whispers into your ear, his words spurring you on as you feel your second release coming up. You release a pornographic moan as he curls his fingers.

"Please! Please! Please, daddy. Need you inside me so bad." you whine as you feel your second orgasm rapidly approaching. He presses more kisses into your neck as he groans.

"Gonna fuck your tight little hole so good, baby. You'll be feeling it for days." He rasps into the skin of your neck as he speeds the movement of his fingers, his thumb assaulting your clit.

His words making you clench against his fingers with trembling thighs, you grab harder onto his bicep as you reach your second release, "Fuck! I'm -- coming!" You pathetically moan.

"Good girl, drenching my fingers." He coos as he presses a featherlight kiss onto her jaw. He slowly works you down from your orgasm, slowing down his fingers as you finally catch your breath.

Your chest rises and falls, feeling like you just ran a marathon. Leon pulls his fingers out of you with a languid groan as he sits back, keeping eye contact with you.

Two drenched fingers rise as you look at them with a small whimper, he smirks a little before putting them into his mouth, sucking your release off of his fingers.

"Sweet, just as I thought." He softly says, leaning back over you, slotting himself between your hips. He braces himself on either side of your head as he presses his lips to yours.

You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as he sloppily kisses and licks your lips, your arms chaining around his neck.

You sloppily make out for a few seconds, moaning and groaning from you both are the only sounds heard in the loft apartment. His clothed erection makes contact with your sensitive core again, making you clutch onto his lips tighter, whimpering.

"Please, I want...I want it." you say softly, begging him in a whine as you try to meet his erection that keeps brushing up against your clit.

Something dark gleams in Leon's eyes as he looks at you, seeing you all pathetic, whining underneath him for his cock. "Ask me, very nicely baby. Maybe I'll consider fucking you good." He says with an evil sort of grin as he teases her. He was going to fuck her anyways but teasing her was just part of the fun.

She whimpered as she looked up at him, "Don't make me."

Leon smirks down at her grabbing a hold on her chin, forcing her to look right into his eyes, blue and daring as he looks at her. "You'll ask nicely or not get anything at all." He says in a stern voice, holding onto her jaw with a strong hand. "Is that clear?"

Fuck. Me.

She feels her drenched core throb at his voice, so stern and demanding making her nod her head vigorously. "Yes, daddy." She says as she looks up at him, biting her lip.

He nods with a smirk, "good, now ask." He removes his hand from her chin, making sure her eyes are still locked on his. She swallows a little and tries to gain what's left of her breath to ask him.

The silence hangs as she utters the words, they both need to hear, "Please fuck me, daddy." she asks softly as she looks into his eyes. She didn't know how much longer she could last, the arousal was getting uncomfortable at this point.

Luckily, she wouldn't have to wait much longer, Leon's face spread into a mischievous smirk. "Good girl." He says with a small squeeze to her ass.

Woah, when did his hands get there? Fuck.

You practically mewl at his praise, he props himself up back up on his knees, still in between your thighs. You watch as he undoes his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his hard on in his boxers. She whimpers and tries to grab for it to touch it, he moves her hand away.

"No, no. If you do that, I'll cum without you. Hands off." He says sternly and you nod at him, biting your lip as you obey him. "Sorry, Daddy." she says softly.

He smiles at you gently as he pushes his boxers down, his cock springing free. She swallows and looks from it to his face, practically drooling.

Holy shit, oh my god...

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He says as he caresses her face with his hand, you lean into the touch as he moves down to be on top of you again, his large cock brushing against your entrance causing you to whine pathetically.

"Oh, so whiny. Shhh, you'll get it. Be patient." He murmurs into your ear, hands resting on the couch pillow behind you. You had no choice but to wait, your hips bucked a little, trying to see past the teasing and desperately find some friction.

He reached down between you, grabbing his dick and running it through your wet and overstimulated pussy. "Daddy..." You find yourself whining again. He nudges the tip against your entrance, his large hand guiding it.

"Mmm, still so wet for me baby, good girl." He groaned into your ear as he let the tip nudge your opening and slip in a little. You moan softly, feeling the head of his cock in your pussy. "Please..." She whines, holding onto his bicep in a vice grip.

He chuckles in your ear, his voice soothing. "Okay, okay baby, no more teasing." He lets his hips move slowly inside of her, his dick stretching her out. The white heat burned but felt so good, your skin was on fire in the best way possible.

"Daddy." you whine as you bite down on your lip hard enough, your eyes squeezing shut as stars danced in your vision. She leaned her head back, lips parting in a silent scream. "So tight around me, fuck." He says in almost a low growl, nipping at your earlobe.

Your pussy would never be the same, he was sliding all the way in until the head of his dick hit your cervix. She whimpered and clawed at his arm, probably leaving scratch marks later, neither of them seemed to care right now.

He started moving his hips, hitting her deeper and deeper with each thrust. "God, yes. Fuck." He cursed into her ear as he fucked her hard and deep. "Daddy!" she moaned loudly, not even caring if the neighbors in the other loft apartments could hear them.

"So, fucking good, so good." He repeats into her ear, she clenches around him, feeling more arousal as his words spur her on more, her legs going to wrap around his hips, letting him go as deep and fast as he wants with her.

He takes the hint, slipping his hand under her dress, palming her tit over her bra. His hips moved faster as if he was a wild animal, hitting deep inside of her. She cries and whimpers around his cock as it hits that spot over and over.

"Daddy, daddy, mmm..." He was fucking the words right out of you. You couldn't even form any thoughts as he pounded into you. She felt something bubbling in her belly as he fucked her. She dug her fingernails into his skin, his face buried in her neck, licking and biting. "Daddy, not going to...last..." She whimpers as he presses a final bite to her neck.

He leans his head up to look at her as he pounds into her, she looks into his eyes, she sees how his face is scrunched up in pleasure as he pounds into you. "I know, you going to cum for daddy?" He asks in a small smirk, his face watching hers as she nods and starts to moan a little bit louder.

"Yes, gonna...gonna cum!" She moans out pathetically as he sees her whimpering and whining on his cock. He presses a bruising kiss to her lips, his hand holding onto her hips steadily as he keeps up his hips.

You moan into the kiss, letting him rail into her with no hesitation. "Cum for me baby." he whispers against her lips; she lets her eyes roll back as she finally releases on his cock. He groans as she cums around his cock, squeezing it and milking it with her pussy.

"Good girl, good girl." He says with a smirk as he continues fucking her through it to reach his own release. She whimpers and whines, holding onto him tighter and moaning. Eventually, he fills her up with his cum. He lets his hips stutter against hers, she lets her core tighten around his dick, sucking his cum in. "So good..."

He nods with a soft and simple smirk, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips. "You did good, very good." You feel yourself melt at him and his words as he pulls away, slipping out of you. You both moan softly at the loss, your eyes lazily falling shut.

His cum mixed with yours drips out of your stretched entrance, he tucks himself back in his boxers and pants, climbing off the couch. "Stay there, I'll clean you up." Leon says in a soft smile as he walks out of sight for a second before coming back with a washcloth and wiping your shared mess up.

The washcloth makes contact with her sensitive clit, causing her to jerk away a little. He puts a supportive hand on your knee, gently rubbing circles on it. "It's okay, shh." He says soothingly.

She nods at him dumbly, watching him with lazy eyes as he gets up and puts the washcloth in the laundry room, tossing it on the floor. He comes back and sits beside your open legs, he grabs your underwear, slipping them back over your legs, you lift your hips and let him cover your core completely.

"C'mere." He motions for you to move closer next to him, she gets up and weakly moves over, resting her head on his lap. Leon looks down at you, playing with your hair. "Feel better now?" He asks you simply, being gentle with his touches.

"Much better." you reply. And you think that you just might be.

[oceanwithouthermoon]

okay some people genuinely really need to accept that the ONLY "queer coding" in saiki k is when they make gay jokes. there is NO other intentional queer coding, and i think people dont understand that claiming rep where it isnt there is much much more harmful than you think it is... just headcanon! its fun! you guys act like youre going to fucking die if you ship/hc something not canon, so you convince everyone that everything you say is canon ☠️ its literally insane

theres a HUGE difference between a headcanon or ship having what YOU see as canon backing, and a hc or ship that is actually implied or canon...

the only ship that you could argue is implied in saiki k is terusai, thats literally it, you could potentially make an argument that yumekai could be reciprocated towards the end, satoumiya, or MAYBE mikosai, but im pretty sure thats it...

nonbinary saiki is one of my personal favorite headcanons (one of the only ones i pretty much ALWAYS have in mind when talking or writing about him, it's practically a given) and i think it has pretty good canon backing, but its not ACTUALLY implied.

hes FAIRLY certain that his biological sex is male, and all evidence points to that, but he doesnt know and specifically says that he doesnt know what his true gender is... he clearly has absolutely zero discomfort with masculinity OR femininity, doesnt know or care about his gender, and is comfortable with either sex... he seems very happy to just be either...

seems like pretty solid evidence, but you also have to realize that there is literally zero chance that the author intended for saiki to be read as nonbinary, or trans in any way, this was literally just an excuse for plot and to have a reason to take advantage of his shapeshifting to do crossdressing/genderbend chapters ☠️ i love to see it as him being nonbinary and i think it has a lot of backing, but its not canon or even "implied" at all.

theres a lot of other examples of this kind of thing in this fandom, like theres a lot of people who claim that kubokai are queer coded (its usually just a joke when people say things like "hehe my ship is so canon" but im talking about like... people who see yumekai and go "um 🤨 this is LITERALLY homophobic because erm um kubokai are basically canon and queer coded and you shipping one of them with a WOMAN is HOMOPHOBIC" lmfao) and i am actually just not even sure where this comes from because they dont have anything that can even be twisted into romantic subtext, theyre just a popular ship because they have a good friendship. which is great! but theyre like the LAST thing i wouldve expected people to claim as implied or canon. they are absolutely not. the only thing i can even think of that might make people think that is saiki saying they look gay in that one chapter ☠️

[cheriladycl01]

The Rookie Prodigy - Carlos Sainz x Driver! Reader Part 8

Plot: You are a rookie coming into the 2022 season of Formula One into Alfa Romeo with team member Zhou Guanyu, being in a mid tier team can you help them rise up the ranks. What pressures occur for the only rookies within the 2022 line up!

You and Carlos took the flight to Spain from Miami together. After you slept in his hotel room for the night you knew you’d have to stay with him atleast until the Spanish Grand Prix. You felt so unsafe whenever you turned a corner, but being with Carlos made you feel like you weren’t fully alone.

By the time you got to his home it was the middle of the night and nobody was awake. The house was dark and quiet but you could tell that it was his family home from all the dark portraits of him and his family lining the walls in the entry way.

“Is this you?” You ask politely looking at the funny photo of a young toddler Carlos with cake smushed all over his face.

“Yes but don’t … don’t look at that” he sighs trying to pull you away from the many photos of him and his sisters and parents. Those photos then bled into those of his extended family that you did not recognise.

“It’s cute, that your mum and dad keep all this. And that you still have a room here” you smile kindly at him.

“Mmmm, I guess. Look I don’t want to make too much noise, I know my sisters have work early tomorrow so let’s go up to my room” he says taking your wrist to guide you up the stairs.

You follow his every footstep to make sure not to hit any of the planks of wood that will groan under weight. It was clear Carlos knew how to get in quietly. You make it up the large wooden staircase and he walks you carefully down the corridor.

For a minute you feel like a teenager again, no worries in the world apart from the wrath of a teenage boys mothers whose caught the two of you coming back into his room.

But the reason you are here with Carlos isn’t just because he’s snuck you back into his room after a night out. It’s for you safety, as many people out there, don’t like you right now.

Part of you thought it would have been wise to reach out to Lewis and see what he had to say. After all he was a large part to play in all this. At the same time you didn’t want him to feel guilty as though this was his fault.

Once Carlos had quietly shut the door of his room, he helped drag your case into the corner of the room.

“I’ll take the floor and you can take my bed” Carlos says in hushed tones, smiling softly looking over you.

“If you are okay with it, I’d rather share the bed with you. Y-your bed is against the wall, so if you lay next to me i’d feel safer… because no-one could get to me” you say sheepishly.

“You set the rules for us Y/N, it’s better if i go to the floor. I dont want to start something you wont let me finish. No-one can get to you in this house, you are safe!” he admits and you sigh.

Carlos was someone you wanted in your corner, luckily the Spaniard was a mature enough man to put behind him everything that occured between the two of you and be there for you as a friend.

But you couldn’t help but feel the … distance between the both of you. And it was growing more and more each day. At the hotel, he saw you in a moment of completley vulnerability and it’s not often that Carlos Sainz has women crying infront of him, that arent fans of course. So hugging you, and holding you as you sniffled yourself to sleep felt like the right thing to do.

But it broke his heart knowing that nothing would come of it, as you’d made those wishes very clear all that time ago. Career focused lady … at one point in life Carlos thought that was something very attractive in a woman, he’d be lying if he said he didnt now but he couldn’t help but be slightly annoyed at the world and how you assume you’ll be viewed if you were to ever be involved with a driver.

But then you also both had the answer to how people would react from the state that your home was left in all because there were rumours between you and Lewis.

Once you too thought about the consequences of sharing a bed, you agreed as the last thing you wanted to do was force the friendship down a rocky path, one where your jobs are affected on track.

That was the last thing you wanted.

“Are you sure the floor is okay? I feel really bad” you frown as you sit on the edge of his bed, looking at where he is stood across the room.

“Yeah, i have stuff from when my sisters used to have sleepovers in here with me” he smiles in a nostalgic sort of way, thinking of when he was younger.

“You used to have sleepovers?” you ask cocking a brow,not having expected that from him. However you could tell that he was very much a family man.

“Lets go to sleep hermosa, we can dicuss my family life more tomorrow, but you need rest” he sighs, starting to lay down a thin single matress next to the bed. He grabbed blankets from the wooden closet and a pillow from the bed you’d be sleeping in.

“Sorry, no spares” he says before settling and laying down. He’d changed into some pijamas behind a little partition in his room. He gestured for you to take your turn.

You were desperate for a shower and to scrub off the entire Miami weekend. She wanted to bask under some warm water, but knew that wasnt a possibility at this time of night and in a shared house.

You changed into a large t-shirt before awkwardly shuffling back round to get into his bed.

Despite him not being there often the sheets still smelt like … him. His cologne or his body wash and it was an intoxicating smell that had you laying on your back staring at the ceiling questioning everything.

“Carlos?” You ask quietly to see if he was awake, but when there was no reply you figure he is probably asleep.

“Maybe in another reality you and I could be something more, I think one of my biggest regrets in life will be pushing you away that day and my biggest fear is loosing you as a person in my corner, however that may be. You’ve been kind to me in the short time you’ve known me and made me feel safe and protected when I’ve never felt more vulnerable. I just hope you know that I’m thankful for everything you’ve done and I wish I could let that part of myself open up to you” you sigh letting out everything you’d been thinking throughout the day.

That night you’d slept the most peacefully you had done in years. And you couldn’t help but feel thankful to Carlos.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 3 Teaser

If you gave him your heart, your soul, your body- what would he do to those things? Maybe it's time to see if he can handle your love for once, and not just the other way around.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, mild Angst, fluff, slow burn but we'regetting somewhere, they have chemistry but mc has trust issues, mentions of past domestic abuse (mental), Outercourse (basically non-penetrative sex), toys, Cumplay, it's messy smh

Length: ???

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜.♡

A/N: I'm busy in the kitchen come get your snack

◇━━━━━━━━━━X♡X♡━━━━━━━━━━━◇

He's got the audacity to laugh over your shoulder, front pressed into your back, hands teasing your sides as they sneak up your loose shirt.

"Bought one that's about my size." He purrs sensually, almost like he's mocking you. But it's not malicious- playful, if anything, but not mean ok any way. "So you can call it.. practice." He explains, while you stare at the nearly clear pink dildo that's staring at you, still packaged together with other things in the black plastic bag in your lap.

"Jungkook.. when did you even buy those things?" You wonder, feeling almost scared to touch any of the things inside.

"Earlier, when you were napping." He shrugs easily, hand reaching past your body to shamelessly dump the contents of the bag on the bed, bag flying somewhere on the floor. "Anything look like an absolute no-go to you?" He asks curiously, and you look without touching.

There's an egg-shaped item there you're not too sure of what it might be. The dildo explains itself, clearly- and the other massage wand is also pretty self-explanatory. There's two bottles of lube- one pink, the other blue. A.. plug, with a pretty pink gemstone on one end of it. Leather handcuffs, with soft looking fur on the inside. Overall, nothing immediately makes you uncomfortable.

You don't know what gives you the confidence for your next comment you blurt out though.

"Dont you have any toys?" You ask him bluntly. "Like, for yourself? Or do you just.. use your partner's body for stuff?" You wonder, and he looks at you with a sharp gaze, a smirk growing on his lips.

"I wouldn't mind using your body, that's for sure." He flirts, leaning his head a bit to the side. "Why would I need toys if I've got you?" He fakes innocence as he asks that question without expecting any answer-

And for a moment, you don't give one.

But something about his flirty comment bothers you. Maybe because you hear someone else in your head again- all the men who've degraded you over the course of time.

Your ex. Your friends. Your father. You hear them laugh yet again like you're pathetic and worth nothing.

"I don't want to be used." You deny with a flat tone, and it's clear from the slight change in his eyes that he's now on high alert at your every word spoken by mouth and body language, so he can figure out what happened to change your mood like that. "I don't just want to be.. a toy you get bored off and toss away at some point just to pick it back up once you're interested again." You say, drawing a clear line.

You're not sure how he might react to this. You didn't want to make a statement like that, but you can't mask the truth. You really are scared of getting hurt at the end of this- you don't want him to just play around and then let you go.

You don't want to go. You want to stay-

You want him to want you to stay.

He says your name to gain your attention, voice low and steady, horribly gentle- and it makes your eyes sting as you realize that this is the first time a man has ever spoken in such a tone to you. He notices the way your eyes begin to gloss over- and it hurts him too, the fact that you're hurting.

"This isn't just something fun to me. I think I might not have made it clear." He says, staying away from you as to not invade your little bubble you're in,eating you have your safety. "I don't know what happened to you in the past to be so full of distrust towards anything good offered to you-" He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "-but I promise you, this isn't just a game to me."

"Then what is this." You say quietly, scared. "I'm scared that we're not on the same page here and that we're walking down to entirely seperate paths." You complain pitifully with your back hunched over and head hanging low.

"That's because we are." He chuckles softly. "I'm trying to hold your hand here so we don't lose each other- but you're not holding it." Jungkook offers.

"I don't understand-" you shake your head, when as you look up again, his face is right in front of yours, eyes looking at your lips.

"Then let me help you." He hums towards you, before his lips press onto yours.

And your body freezes.

Because he's never kissed you like this before- tender, calm and without any lust in it whatsoever. In fact, your realize only now that you've never been kissed without any hidden intentions or something to gain in mind. This kiss is soft, it's no words needed, it's love confessed in physical form.

You've never been kissed like this.

Ever.

[angstics]

3.3k words summarizing queliot if you've never seen the magicians. or if youve seen it and you want to indulge in my insane criticisms. lord touch his mind

okay so the magicians was a tv show about a bunch of post grads learning magic in magic university then discovering that the fantasy world from a kids book series was actually real and the Beast of that world was out to get them. WHO GIVES A FUCK. the crazy people were focused on the relationship btwn main character quentin coldwater (depressed, heart on his sleeve, surprise sex maniac who is new to magic and loves those books) and gay best friend eliot waugh (substance addicted (big surprise!!), gay trauma, named after evelyn waugh oh you know…) they form a friendship and it’s weirdly touchy and close. eliot keeps trying to seduce quentin but it’s never serious. i dont even think quentin notices. anyone remember the “lets not talk” scene? he was about to fuck that sad man. anyway this tension was actually fulfilled by the end of the 1st season with a drunk threesome including the two and their best friend margo. they at least kiss and cuddle and MAYBE sucked dick if the ghost of his girlfriend who haunts him later is to be believed (which i do #cockinhismouthsunday).

at this time articles that were like “THIS SIFI SERIES IS PROUDLY BISEXUAL” were coming out which. lol. lmfao! quentin never had any sort of queer identity. not even a hint of it. the homophobia of the show started with the regurgitation of the “sad drunk lonely sex-crazed” gay man trope with eliot, then the “everyone is fluid but no one actually has same sex attraction” trope, THEN by sidelining and killing off almost every gay or trans character, THEN THE QUENTIN THING. and the quentin thing turned people insane. let’s see why.

so after the threesome, eliot and quentin continue having a good friendship. there is some tension that isnt present with margo which sure is a choice… but it is resolved by a heartfelt crowning ceremony nd hug. oh theyre kings of the magic land now btw. eliot and q are pretty much separate from this point on xcept for certain episodes/moments. it is strange they dont have any storylines together. but love finds a way. at some point a version of eliot sacrifies himself for quentin. if u look at the scene it is on instinct it is crazy. then they reunite at the end of s2 but it’s all business really. the show was really involved w its nonsense plot.

anyway season 3. hahaha. so like i said theyre separate most of the show past s1. this is true in this season xcept for episodes 305 and 313 (with some notable moments in between). the plot of this season is that they have to go on quests to collect keys. the creature that gives eliot this plot calls quentin his “brother of the heart”. ok! when they see each other for the first time in a while in 304, they hug in a very sweet way :) look at this photo from bts during that scene :) i have it framed

after a series of other quests, 305 turns out to be the Eliot and Quentin quest! finally a story with the two! the quest is for the “time key”, which is fabled to be given to whoever solves the mosaic puzzle in fillory (magic world). the puzzle? they have to arrange 100s of tiles in a way that depicts “the beauty of all life”. quentin is very excited about it. eliot is happy to hear him infodump. they eventually get pushed into fillory to solve the mosaic. turns out they were also sent DECADES in the past. there might have been a way out but they were dead-set on solving the mosaic and getting their key. so they get to work. they live in a cottage attached to the mosaic and they spend hours, days, months on it. just the two of them and the mosaic. this episode is called “a life in a day” which is so perfect you wonder why the writing couldnt be that good within the show.

at the 1 year anniversary, quentin kisses eliot. and eliot kisses him back. and you wonder woah what does this mean?! well keep wondering girl because this tv show does not care to explore any of that. it chugs on and eliot and q fight about “living their lives there” and quentin gets a Wife and has a child with her and then she DIES (leaving her as a narrative incubator rather than an actual character, which is very in line with the sexism of the show). and they grow up and decades pass and the child grows old enough to leave and it seems eliot co-parented him but (again) the tv show doesnt care to show you that. and this whole time theyre working on the mosaic. years and years. eventually they grow old. it’s just the two of them. until eliot dies. quentin goes to bury him in the mosaic plot and he finds a special little tile. he places it in the mosaic. he gets the key. the puzzle is solved. “the beauty of all life”. but quentin is alone. his life companion is gone. and that’s the last we see of him.

we go back in time til before they enter fillory. their friend stops them and she has the key through time shenanigans and they never live that timeline. UNTIL!!!!! they do. they remember it all. what does decades (50 yrs btw) of living happily together mean for them?!? FUCK ALL APPARENTLY!!!! because the next episode (306 if yr keep track) they mention it ONCE AND NEVER AGAIN. and there is so much beneath the surface with the looks and the line that mentions it (“go be life partners with someone else” eliot says jokingly in a manner that shouldve been the catalyst to quentin’s magic-induced suicide spiral later that episode).

ok quentin does mention it once more to his dying dad. but nothing about his Male Life Partner Of Fifty Years. Nothing. they dont even talk about it with their best friends, leading one to believe they just kept it a secret . which. okay.

okay. so theyre apart til the last episode of the season. and quentin decides to sacrifice himself by locking himself in a cage with a monster for all of eternity. he says the quest prepared him for it which is yikesss. eliot refuses. but quentin insists. they travel to the prison (he gets back together with his gf during this trip btw they had been apart that season after some shit. one of their worst writing decisions i hate this stupid ass cockroach relationship). quentin almost exchanges himself. then eliot shoots the monster. dooming them all.

so the monster doesnt die. instead he possesses eliot. and that becomes the story for season 4. at first quentin and co think eliot is dead. and it’s devastating lol. an interesting thing is that the monster was so. touchy with quentin. unbearably so. it’s such a perverse reflection of eliot’s touch. which is sorta pointed out by quentin in this quote (paraphrase) “i know it’s not eliot. but he has his face and his eyes…”

anyhow 405. hahahahahaha. so this episode it’s revealed eliot is alive but trapped in his own head. and to get out for a moment and tell his friends he’s alive, he needs to confront his most terrible most shameful memory. the whole episode is him trying to figure out what it is. meanwhile, quentin and co are setting up a plan to kill the monster. and quentin breaks up with his gf (lol). in a deleted scene that WAS shown in promo they argue about the monster. and quentin says “im team eliot”. lol

anyhow, eliot’s hit a dead end. he cant figure the worst thing that’s happened in his life. then his memory of quentin (theyve been hangin out) says he’ll “sacrifice” himself if he had to. eliot smiles and says “i know youre just a memory… but youre a very generous one.” and quentin says— (im reciting this from memory btw all of this has been from 4 years of NON STOP thinking about it) quentin says “well you sacrifice for the people you love” and he gives eliot a VERY pointed look. and then it dawns on eliot. and the guilt is instantly palpable.

hahahahha. hahaha. hahahahahaha. okay so eliot goes to the memory he knows is the worst thing he’s ever done. his most traumatic memory, after a lifetime of violent homophobia and bad choices. the person possessed before him described this memory as being “the day he left home”.

the memory? the day they remembered their past lives. did it happen? fifty years. it happened.

theyre sat under a wedding arch (that was the b plot of the episode lol). it’s beautiful. eliot watches the memory play out, standing in front of the seated figures. the guilt. the guilt.

outside, the tension is building. the plan to kill the monster is in motion. quentin has to coax him to a certain spot. he has to look at him as he kills his best friend.

eliot doesnt know this but he gets anxious watching it play out. there is a certainty that this is it. the first time viewer has no idea whats going on. we never saw the direct aftermath of them remembering. we always assumed there wasnt anything.

well a year after 305 aired, a yr after thinking THAT WAS IT, they recontextualize Everything.

it is worth saying here that in the promo interviews leading up to season 4, quentin’s and eliot’s actors were sussing it UP. quentin’s at some point talks on q’s queerness, saying it was the one aspect of his life he didnt feel anxious about.

well

what happens is that quentin asks eliot for a relationship. remember how it was quentin who first kissed eliot? it happens again. heart on his fucking sleeve. i can recite this scene pretty well so im going to fucking do it:

did it happen? fifty years. it happened. it was sort of beautiful. it really was. i know this is gonna sound dumb but … us. i mean we work. we know it cause we lived it. who gets that proof of concept? (eliot smiles uneasily) we just got injected with fifty years of memories so i get that youre not thinking clearly. no im just saying… what if we gave it a shot, would that be so crazy? (eliot looks down, worried and thoughtful. quentin smiles RADIANTLY it is BLINDING) why the fuck not?

editors opinion: quentin is such a beautiful person. to be so truthful about something so scary is unthinkable. especially in context of him being so hopelessly and quietly in love his childhood best friend, and his whirlwind romance with previously mentioned gf, and all the tragedy he endured with these two. but this is someone who loves with his whole heart. what was he supposed to do? contain it?

then eliot hardens.

i know you and you arent… whats the matter? dont be naive it matters. (pause) q i love you but… that isnt me and that definitely isnt you. not when we have a choice. (quentin looks away. he wipes his eye) oh. okay. sorry.

and silence. the real eliot, the eliot who isnt the memory, looks on. tired and angry, he speaks to himself:

what the hell is wrong with you? what the hell are you doing? someone Good and True… Loves you. yeah it was a little crazy but you knew. you knew this truly mattered. and you just SNUFFED IT OUT.

then he looks to the memory of quentin. soft as the clouds:

q. im sorry. i was afraid. and when im afraid i run away.

then he kisses him. and he hits you with the thesis of the episode:

if i ever get out of here q… know that when im braver it cause i learned it from you.

well

thats his most traumatic memory. he is granted passage to consciousness. what is the first thing he sees? quentin. the real quentin.

q? (smiles) q (laughs) it’s me. it’s eliot. ok come on no games. it’s eliot. i said no games. (eliot looks around, worried as all hell) fifty years (he walks towards q) who gets proof of concept like that? what? peaches and plums motherfucker (this is the symbol to their mosaic life) im alive in here. (eyes as wide as saucers, heart in his throat) eliot…

and he ruins their plans of killing the monster. “eliot’s alive.”

then the episodes keep rolling. “eliot eliot eliot. why do you care so much about him?” “because i do.” and “wow i love that plan. except the part where it doesnt save eliot.” quentin gets back with his gf for reasons only the devil knows. but fine ok whatever quentin and eliot will HAVE to talk post-saving. even if the writers ignore it once more they have some kind of relationship. and they do save eliot in the finale! you know who they dont save? lmfao

quentin dies. in a manner that many including myself found weird and unsatisfactory and suicidal. and he never gets to know how eliot feels. never. he’s just gone. their story means nothing 💯

editors note: this ending broke me. i was using the show as a depression crutch, so a fate so hopeless ruined me. cant blame the show for my mistake but being so technically bad certainly didnt help.

well when the show came back for its next (and final lol) season, they did attempt closure for eliot and quentin. for some reason this was all contained in 3 episodes, most of it in the third (503) but what the fuck ever. it has its moments.

the episode is basically about eliot and alice (q’s gf i dont think ive mentioned her name. sorry alice) going on a mini quest up a treacherous mountain for grievers to return a piece of quentin’s soul back to the underworld. their fights are soooo funny. toxic lover vs almost-lover.

alice at some point says “well he was MY boyfriend this is MY pilgrimage and you just TAGGED ALONG” and (blood obviously boiling) eliot goes “right, because he meant nothing to me”. and this highlights something so sneakily homophobic about this whole affair. quentin and eliot’s relationship never mattered to the narrative as much as all the other straight relationships, especially quentin and alice’s. like i said, they would separate for entire seasons. you will be happy to know that not 1 episode goes by without quentin and alice conflicting and making up conflicting and etc. i dont understand how quentin and eliot’s relationship wasnt important enough. they were best friends, they kissed multiple times and had sex AT LEAST once if the mosaic subtext isnt considered. and the mosaic… it isnt just that they lived together for 50 yrs and raised a child and were happy, something they couldnt quite grasp in their old lives… they achieved the beauty of all life. that is a monumental achievement that shouldve changed not only their lives, but their stories.

the thing about the confession is that it wasnt planted in s3. talking about 405, the writers said they came up with it while working on that episode. it was essentially a retcon. though its inclusion explains why they didnt talk about it literally, it doesnt excuse the narrative outright ignoring it. it DEFINITELY doesnt account for why it ignored the rest of the SAME SEASON it was ESTABLISHED IN. if this was quentin and alice, they would be talking about it nonstop. and guess the fuck what when they get back together it is *non stop*.

SO. 503. they are on their pilgrimage. tensions build. eliot hallucinates quentin’s voice (it’s a soundbite from the mosaic when eliot dies which is depressing). they meet another traveller who is grieving his long dead boyfriend.

the traveller asks who theyre grieving and alice goes My Boyfriend and eliot looks away and says he knew him as a friend and it’s so sad it makes me want to die. why did they invent new exciting ways for gay people to be ashamed of who they love. i hate this show.

anyway the traveller talks about his boyfriend and how he was a magician who died young and how his dreams were haunted by him. and eliot is listening so intensely you want to jump hale appleman for being so good at this acting thing. alice goes to sleep and leaves the two alone. then they really start talkin:

(the traveller asks) have you ever had love? (eliot smiles small, hesitant) love…? yeah love. (pause) the friend we’re putting to rest. (traveller is delightfully shock) wasnt just a friend.

truly truly truly cant describe to you how much it physically pains me that it took 2 seasons and for one of them to die and a conversation with a stranger to get to this point. why wasnt this always part of the narrative. why does this only matter now after 2 yrs of fans badgering you about why this isnt part of the fucking show despite BEING PART OF THE FUCKING SHOW! it is dead obvious this was never the intent so even with something that should feel right feels wrong because the show never wanted it. it never wanted quentin to be in love with eliot. but it doesnt make sense if he isnt. i hate this show.

the convo continues 🙄:

does she know? oh god no. a torrid secret affair. (eliot looks away) no, nothing like that.

and i wish eliot was given a proper story. i wish i knew what was going on in his head through all of this. i wish i wish.

so it is revealed that quentin and eliot “had love” and that eliot is keeping it a secret (a revelation considering they werent intimate on screen past the 1 yr anniversary, they were only ever referred to as best friends by cast and crew, AND even what they were was obscured in the confession scene. and their feelings didnt matter past 405 fuck this world). this is huge. it should be huge. eliot’s first arc is about how he cant fall in love until he does and gets his heart broken. quentin’s stories are so wrapped up in alice that having another love interest should complicate that entirely. it doesnt.

the climax of the episode is when eliot expresses difficulty of letting go of quentin and alice says “he was your friend” and eliot replies (quick as if not meaning to) “he wasnt just my friend.” and wowww. how cathartic. the first time in the history of the show they talk about it. 5 seasons btw.

and eliot tells her about the mosaic and how “we loved each other for a really really long time.” and how he told him to fuck off and how he died for him and how he was never able to talk to him again. he just died.

and that part is supposed to be cathartic too. it feels cathartic for eliot the character at least. but to me the Viewer. i was sick of how they were trying to appeal to MY thoughts of what he should be feeling. as if trying to placate me. cuz if it was soo important it wouldnt just been solved after this episode. he DGAF about quentin after this. i dont get it. why cant they write a proper story.

well one line that stuck with me and i truly felt was this:

alice: he was pretty in love with you eliot: i wouldnt say that alice: .. i would

and then eliot looks at her the most devastated a man can look.

thats it. that’s quentin and eliot. a heartfelt and final fuck this show. the fic goes crazy esp the 2019 shit.