#“we don't need to talk about what I was doing during the summer of love” “confirmation he was in San Francisco in '67 add it to the board”

[doueverwonder]

I stand firm on the idea that most of the 60s & 70s none of the states or Gov actually knew where California was. They're still piecing things together from random comments he makes; they got a timeline built on namedropping now-infamous cults, randomly mentioning hitchhiking to xyz place in xyz year, bringing up marches/protests he was at, and saying things like "the best sleep I've EVER had was the first night back in my own bed after Woodstock '69, that was the fattest nap". They know they could probably ask, but the cork board covered in red string and speculating is more fun.

[f1girliefics]

Their Reaction to You Being Pregnant - Preferences

A/N: Both planned and unplanned pregnancies below.

Daniel Ricciardo

It was a planned pregnancy and yet it hit you like a truck. You have been trying for so long, you almost gave up.

You planned a special dinner and even bought a special gift for him.

Little socks.

You gave it to him during dinner and watched as his face morphed into confusion.

"Isn't this too small for me to wear?"

"For you, perhaps, but not for our little one." you put him out of his misery as his smile grew bigger and bigger and tears fell from his eyes.

He would be so proud to finally become a dad.

Max Verstappen

Your pregnancy was unplanned but it was a nice surprise.

You had a stable relationship and you did talk about children before.

The way you told Max was not cute or romantic, you just basically blurred it out one day while watching TV.

"Come on Max! Your baby mama is craving some popcorn."

Oops.

He was shocked but then you spoke again. "I'm pregnant." to confirm what you just said.

Once he is able to close his mouth and talk, he will tell you that he is indeed happy.

"I just can't believe it!" he said.

"With the way you behaved for the entire summer break... I'm not shocked." you gave him a wink as he handed you the popcorn.

Fernando Alonso

He always wanted you.

Even if you were years younger. You didn't care about his age, you loved him.

It was a complicated love with many headlines.

Your pregnancy became one of the biggest, claiming you are a gold digger.

But Fernando didn't care for the headlines. He loved you and your baby.

Even if it was an unplanned baby, it was definitely not an unwelcome one.

"I would do anything for the two of you." he promised you the day you told him about your pregnancy.

Lance Stroll

You told him about your pregnancy on his birthday.

At first, he didn't believe you, but then he would be so thrilled he picked you up and spun you around for two minutes.

You had to tell him you would throw up if he didn't put you down.

Lewis Hamilton

You two would be trying to have a child for years when you finally get pregnant.

Both of you would be told by your doctor after weeks of hope due to your symptoms.

He would be so happy, he would shed many tears and he would be unable to stop hugging you.

On your way home, you would stop by to start and plan your baby's room.

George Russell

He would be in the middle of a meeting when you texted him. He could only check your messages after the meeting. George would drop his phone upon seeing the picture you sent.

5 pregnancy tests, all positive.

He would pick up his now broken phone and call you, rushing to his car to go home.

But you picked up the phone and you sounded so happy, it made all his worries lift off of his shoulders.

"We are having a baby George! I'm so happy!"

All his worries and doubts, out the window, the second he heard your laugh.

George will never forget that moment and how he cried of happiness at a red light.

Lando Norris

You two constantly joked about you getting pregnant.

When you started using pills instead of condoms, it was a constant joke between you two.

Lando did like to play with the idea of getting you pregnant.

But neither of you was serious until you took a test.

Positive.

"Okay, that is only a little plastic, the doctor needs to confirm." he would say and the next day you would be at the doctor's.

And the doctor did confirm, you were indeed 3 weeks into your first pregnancy.

You two sat in the car after the visit in silence.

Your mind was empty yet is was filled with thoughts.

"Let's grab something to eat before we go home." he would finally speak, making you look at him, you smiled when you saw the happiness in his eyes.

All your worries were gone because you knew you two can do this.

Oscar Piastri

To say that your pregnancy was a shock would be an understatement.

Both of you stared at the result for hours in silence.

Then, you finally spoke up. "Well, at least now we know I don't actually hate you."

He would laugh. He would laugh so hard that tears would fill his eyes.

You and your baby will be in good hands. Oscar would be the best father ever.

Carlos Sainz

You were on a vacation in Spain when you started to feel sick. You thought it would pass but Carlos insisted on visiting a doctor. This is when the news of your pregnancy hit you.

You didn't speak much Spanish, but that word, you understood.

Almost like a truck, it knocked all air out of your lungs.

When the doctor left, you turned to Carlos.

"Looks like we will have a little one running around soon." he spoke as he laughed but tears also left his eyes. "I'm so happy." he said, finally calming you down.

Charles Leclerc

After getting Leo, you didn't even talk about babies anymore. You were happy where you were in that moment.

But of course, the universe and a heated night had different ideas.

Your pregnancy was confirmed by the doctor and now you just needed to tell Charles.

You travelled to his upcoming race and had a plan.

But that plan all went out the window the moment he finished first.

Suddenly you completely forgot about everything and everyone as he hugged you close and you told him.

"Now our baby can say their father is number one!" you didn't even realise what you said.

"You're pregnant," he said and you nodded, crying from happiness. "PREGNANT!" he yelled as suddenly the trophy in his hand wasn't the most important thing.

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (42/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The new bed is here! And Joris isn't happy about it!

Warnings: 18+ (mentions of sex), fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

series masterlist

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A/N: LETS GOOOOOOOO!!! FORZA FERRARI!!!

“It was really nice of you to take the photos for Enzo and Charlotte,” Charles says as you both get into the car in the afternoon. He buckles up and starts the engine. 

“It's my job, after all,” you smile and make yourself comfortable in the passenger seat. 

Charles steers the car out of the driveway. "Well, actually it's your job to take pictures of me, not of my brother's engagement," he corrects you, for which you gently punch him on the shoulder. 

“I still enjoyed doing it,” you say. "I'm very happy for Enzo and Charlotte. They seem like the perfect couple.”

Charles purses his lips and nods. "They've been together for a long time. We were all wondering when he would finally pop the question. But I didn't think he'd actually do it during Christmas.”

You look at him. ”Why not?”

“I don't know,“ he replies, shrugging his shoulders. "I would have thought he would have done it in the summer, after a nice day on the boat and then maybe at dinner.”

You look at him. "Maybe he wanted to combine it with something nice – and Christmas is a celebration of love.” You can't help but grin. “And he didn't have to buy her a Christmas present, just a ring.”

Your roommate laughs. “Should I do the same to you next year? Just propose to you so I don't have to get you a gift?” 

You know it's a joke, but when the words leave his mouth, you feel warm. You roll your eyes in mock annoyance. “Absolutely not.”

The Monegasque steers the car through the streets of his home country. “And how should I propose then? Do you want a trip in a hot air balloon? At Times Square, where everyone is watching? Or at a Taylor Swift concert while she sings Love Story?”

You can't suppress a giggle. ”None of that, please.”

“Then tell me.” He reaches out and grabs your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. 

“Mmm. I've never really thought about it much. But I think I'd rather have a moment that's just for the two of us. Where no one else is watching, where we're on our own. No onlookers, no one to talk about it. Just the two of us – I think that would be perfect.”

Charles squeezes your hand twice. “Good to know.” He smiles at you briefly before looking back at the road. “By the way, I asked Pierre and Kika if they wanted to go to Lando's party with us tonight. I hope that was okay.”

“Absolutely. I feel like I haven't seen Kika in ages. But it was only – what – four days ago?” 

“I think so. They want to come around seven, so you two can get ready together and maybe have a drink.” 

Without thinking about it, you lean over and kiss his cheek. "You're the best, Charles." You can see the blush rising in his face, but you let it go uncommented.

“I know,” he says with a grin as he turns into the underground parking garage. When the car comes to a stop, you both get out and you press the elevator button while Charles takes your bags out of the trunk. 

“What are the parties like in Monaco?” you ask him as you both enter the elevator. ‘Do you have to dress particularly chic or does it depend on the club? How much money do I need to take with me? Is my ID card enough or do I need to take anything else?’ you bombard him with questions. 

Charles has to laugh. ”Haven't you ever been out partying?”

You shake your head and press the button for your floor. “Not in Monaco, no.”

The elevator doors close and you feel it transport you upwards. The Monegasque looks down at you. “The club where Lando's friend performs is chic, but not super chic. If you like –”

“Where the fuck have you been?” an angry Joris bellows at you as the elevator door opens. 

You almost have a heart attack from the shock, but Charles just looks at his best friend in confusion.

“Since when did you stop checking your cell phones? I've tried to reach you ten thousand times!” Joris's face is as red as a tomato as he snarls at you angrily and you get out of the elevator without saying a word. ”I was still asleep! And I didn't even get to eat breakfast!”

Charles puts your two bags down next to the apartment door. "And a good morning to you, Joris. How can I help you?” He walks past him, deeper into the apartment, Joris follows him, seething. You follow them in silence.

“How you can help me?” Joris asks snappishly, leaning on the kitchen worktop with his hands, before pointing at a few sheets in front of him with his index finger. “Next time you order furniture, at least be home when it's delivered, or leave your own cell phone number so they can call you if they ring the doorbell and you don't open it.” 

Charles opens his eyes wide. ”Our bed.”

Joris sneers. “This shitty bed has cost me valuable hours of sleep. And I certainly shouldn't have driven here.”

Charles can hardly keep a grin off his face as he turns around and opens the fridge. "How many bottles of wine did you drink yesterday?", he asks, placing eggs, vegetables and bacon on the counter in front of him. 

“Two.”

Your roommate gets a bowl and a pan out of a drawer before he starts to crack the eggs into them. “Did you throw up in your front yard?”

Joris rolls his eyes and watches as Charles prepares his hangover breakfast. "No.”

“Then congratulations,’ Charles grins. ”Then you had a successful Christmas.”

The omelette tastes so good that Joris's anger disappears with the first bite. He talks about Christmas dinner with his parents and his brother and the family vacation planned for next year, while he shovels the omelette into himself like a bulldozer. In between, Charles slides him coffee across the counter in a cup, but doesn't dare get closer to his hungry and hungover friend. 

“By the way, the bed is very nice,” Joris finally says, pushing the empty plate away. ‘You could have at least warned me.”

“I'm sorry,’ Charles apologizes with pursed lips. ”Are we friends again?”

Joris sighs. “Of course,” he smiles, getting up from his chair to embrace his oldest friend. They both pat each other on the back before letting go. “I have to go now. By the way, I gave the delivery man a €150 tip for kindly setting up the bed. Thank God you had some money lying around.”

Charles watches his friend go in the direction of the apartment door with confusion. “The setup was already included in the price.“

The photographer purses his lips. "At least they got a nice tip," he finally says, before leaving the apartment and leaving you two alone. 

Without saying a word, you take the dirty dishes and wash them in the sink while Charles puts your bags in the bedroom. When he returns, he stands directly behind you. You can feel the warmth of his skin through your clothes. 

“We also have a dishwasher, you know?” he whispers, laying his chin on your shoulder. His arms wrap around your middle, his chest pressing against your back. 

You nod and lean against him. “But we don't need to run the dishwasher for that,” you reply, breathing in as his hand slowly slides under your sweater. “It was very nice of you to make Joris breakfast, even though it's already afternoon.”

“Mm-hmm,” Charles hums softly. "It was the least I could do. It was really nice of him to come here to take delivery of the bed. I'd completely forgotten that I put down his cell phone number." 

“Joris is a good friend.”

“He is,” he murmurs and kisses your cheek. ‘But I prefer to have you lying in my new bed." He gently pulls you out of the kitchen towards the bedroom where the new bed is. Joris was even kind enough to make the bed; dark gray sheets are smoothly stretched over the mattress and you would love to snuggle up in them. 

“It looks incredibly cozy,“ you smile. 

“Come on.” Charles gently pushes you towards the bed. “I told you I wanted you in it.” He watches you with eagle eyes as you slowly crawl onto the bed and slip under the covers, putting your cell phone on the nightstand. As if you've been conditioned, you have to yawn. 

“The bed was definitely the right decision,” you smile and stretch your arms to fold them behind your head. "But it was definitely the wrong decision to trick me to get into it.”

“Why?’ your roommate chuckles. ”Too comfortable?”

“Definitely. I'd love to stay here forever.” You tap the empty side of the bed next to you. ”Come and try it out.”

Without wasting another moment, Charles circles the bed and lies down next to you. His arm wraps around your middle again and pulls you towards him so that your chests are touching. “I see your point. It is pretty comfortable.” His hand slides up your back under your sweater until it finds its place between your shoulder blades. 

You close your eyes and breathe out. “Do we have to go out partying tonight? I mean, can't we just order take-out and stay in?”

“Of course we could do that,” he smiles. 'But I highly doubt you want to cancel on Kika and Lando.”

You sigh. ‘We could invite everyone here," you suggest. ”The bed is big enough for all of us and –”

“Absolutely not,” he interrupts you and shakes his head vehemently. ‘The only ones allowed in this bed are already in it. Nobody else is allowed to snuggle up in the covers. Besides, I don't like the thought of you lying in a bed with Lando.”

You raise your hand and gently run your fingers through his brown curls. "Are you jealous?”

A deep growl escapes Charles' throat. “Maybe.”

You lean forward and kiss his stubbled cheek. ”You do know that Lando is the reason we're friends again, right? Because he called you when you were in Italy?”

“I am aware,“ he mumbles, pressing you closer. "Doesn't mean you have to share a bed, though.’ 

“You don't have to worry about that,” you grin. “There's only one man I want to share a bed with.” He looks at you with a raised eyebrow. “Don't worry, Charlie. You're the one I mean, of course.”

“Perfect.”

You lie in bed for a while, legs tangled and snuggled together. You gently run your fingers through his hair while his fingertips caress your back. Lying here with him feels so normal, so familiar, that you don't ever want to be in a bed without him again. 

“You still haven't answered my questions about tonight,” you say eventually, and your hand gently caresses the soft skin at the nape of his neck. 

Charles almost moans, his eyes closed. "I'll pay for you.”

“But I can pay for myself," you smile, even though he's not looking at you.

“Doesn't matter.” Your fingers pause in their movement. Charles fidgets a little, wanting for you to continue.

“You're about to fall asleep, Charlie," you giggle, but comply with his silent request. 

He moves closer to you and cuddles his face into the hollow between your jaw and your shoulder before taking a deep breath. “I'm not,” he replies softly. “But lying here with you is so comfortable.” He leisurely pulls at your sweater to reveal the skin on your neck and places feather-light kisses where your pulse is beating. Goosebumps spread across your body. 

“Charles...”

“Let's cancel on everyone,” he whispers, and his hand moves to your thigh to drape your leg over his hip so that you are literally pressed against each other, body to body. You feel his hardness against your clothed core. 

You sigh. “But you just said that we can't cancel,” you reply. “Besides, you already said yes to Lando and invited Pierre and Kika.”

“I don't care,” he breathes. “Let's be crappy friends and cancel at the last minute. I'm sure the others will understand.”

“What will they understand, hm? That the bed is so comfortable that we don't want to leave it?“ you ask him quietly. 

“That I'd rather be here in bed with you than standing in a crowded club.” His breath caresses your neck gently. “That I'd rather test out the new bed with you than yell at you over the loud music just to be able to talk to you.”

His words make your face heat up. You hope he doesn't notice. “Then we'd be very bad friends.”

“Then let's be very bad friends,” he grins against your neck before pressing a final kiss on your pulse. “We can make it up to them sometime. Just not today. Today I want you all to myself. Now that I finally have you back with me.”

You feel him press his boner against you and you absentmindedly tighten your leg around his waist. Your fingers gently press into his neck muscles and his breathy moans reach your ears. You can feel your arousal pool in your panties and you want to give in so bad. 

You want to stay home with him. In this bed. You want to repeat last night at his mom’s house, but this time the both of you would be able to show how much pleasure you give each other. You desperately want to hear him groan again, but now without the barrier of your hand on his mouth. You want to feel his cock against your pussy, sliding through your folds and gathering your juices. 

God, you want to repeat last night but without any clothes on. His cock nudging against your clit, sending jolts of electricity through your veins. His hands grabbing your ass and moving you over his length. You want to feel the the tip of his dick catching in your entrance before finally sliding in, stretching you deliciously. 

You want to fuck him so bad that it’s making you dizzy.

“What are you thinking about, mon amour?” Charles asks, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

Before you can answer him – which you don't really want to do anyway – your cell phone rings. The Monegasque reaches for it without hesitation, answers the call and puts the person on speakerphone. 

“Allo?”

“Hello, you two,“ Kika's voice sounds from your cell phone. ‘How are you? What are you doing?”

“We're testing my new bed,’ Charles replies with a grin, and you hide your face in the duvet. 

“You can't say that,” you say, reaching for your cell phone, but your roommate extends his arm so you can't get to it. 

“Why?“ Charles asks hypocritically. "It's true, isn't it?”

“Charles!”

Kika laughs loudly. "Should I call back in a minute? I don't want to disturb you guys doing whatever it is you're doing.”

“It's fine,” you call to her, although she would have understood you even if you had spoken normally. “What can I do for you?”

The Portuguese woman giggles. “I just wanted to ask what you would like to drink and what you are going to wear.”

You open your eyes wide. "Um, I have no idea. What do people wear in the clubs here?" You repeat the question you've already asked your roommate. 

“How about this?” She begins. "Pierre and I will come a little earlier and go through your closet together? The guys can play video games or something. And we'll get ready in peace and quiet."

You like her suggestion. ”That would be great.”

“Great. Pierre and I are going out for a quick shopping trip and want to buy some wine. You drink sweet, right? Then I'll bring you something.”

“Thanks!” you reply and with a big stretch you finally get to your phone in Charles's hand. "See you in a bit!" You hang up and put the phone back on the bedside table. When you turn to your friend, he's pouting. ”What's wrong?”

He turns on his back and crosses his arms over his chest, which is a little difficult considering your leg is still wrapped around his waist. “I was kind of hoping you'd cancel on them.”

A smile spreads across your face. You slide closer to him again and reach for his arms to separate them before you roll onto him. Your knees are next to his hips on the mattress and instinctively, his big hands find your ass. 

“I'm sorry, Charles,” you whisper, leaning down so that you are completely on top of him. Your elbows are next to his shoulders and your hands are finding their way into his hair again. ”We don't have to stay long.”

The Monegasque exhales. “As long as you promise me that we'll stay in bed tomorrow, that's okay with me.” When you purse your lips, he groans in annoyance and pushes his head back into the pillow. “Do I have to go to camp with Andrea tomorrow?”

You nod slightly. ”I'm afraid so.”

“That's terrible,” he complains, wrapping his arms around you. ”Then we won't see each other again until New Year's Eve! What will I do without you during that time?”

You don't want to think about spending the next few days without him, which is why you change the subject back to tonight. 

“How about this: Kika and Pierre are coming over soon and we'll party later with Lando and his DJ friend,” you begin your suggestion. 

Charles raises an eyebrow. ”I don't see any compromise I'm willing to make.”

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation. “Just let me finish. So - we're all going out to party in a bit, and when we get back home we can make ourselves comfortable in bed here, watch another movie and not get out of bed until noon tomorrow.”

“Do we have to be dressed to watch the movie?” he asks mischievously, and as you move to roll away from him, he turns you both so that he is now on top of you. He grabs your thighs and puts your legs back around his waist, and as he nestles against you, almost crushing you under his weight – which feels better than you care to admit. You feel his boner between your legs. 

“Charles,“ you moan softly as his cock softly nudges against your clothed clit. 

“Do we have to be dressed?” he repeats his question and slides his hand under your sweater, his fingers spreading over your sides. 

You breathe in his scent and bask in his warmth. “We don't have to,” you reply without giving a thought to what it means for you. But you couldn't care less about that right now. 

Charles's lips breathe light kisses on your neck. “Then it's a deal,” he whispers before withdrawing completely – leaving you high and dry. “Come on. Our friends will be here soon. And I doubt you'll want to be in our bed then. No matter how comfortable it is,“ he grins and leaves the bedroom. But as he walks through the door, you can still see him put his hand in his sweatpants to fix his erection. 

Somehow you're glad you have the same effect on him as he does on you. 

Hot blood courses through your veins when you think about how the evening will end. You would love to pull Charles back into bed, rip his clothes off and let him ravish you until you can't walk anymore. 

That will have to wait. 

But anticipation is half the fun.

[hoodedjelly]

my Jenny, Tuck, Brad, Shelden, and Vega older designs ^__^

i'm watching mlaatr, still not done, i think i got like 10 more eps (and if i'm being transparent i skipped around eps... i just wanted to see vega...). And i'm absolutely loving the show!!!! i love these characters a lot, didn't like Shelden at first i'm going to be honest, #1 Shelden hater for a bit there. but he chilled out in season two and i started to ship breldon with that too so now i just love him so much.

more about my personal headcanons:

Jenny: - I am under the belief that she is transgender. Jenny was made genderless, so her deciding to be a girl was strictly her choice and i believe that makes her trans. (She's also a lesbian) - she did grow a bit, im not gonna explain how idc really i just liked her being a taller lady :-) - she has A LOT of different cute outfits and hair styles, honestly too much to draw. she never transforms back into her base show outfit when crime fighting, she just fights in her cute summer dress she don't care. - her and vega are dating grrgrgrrrr - when vega is in rule she makes it so there is complete free access between earth and cluster prime for citizens in both places. - I say that cause i think when jenny is older she moves in with vega, technically living in cluster prime but visits earth like everyday. And brad/shelby/tucker/wakeman visit cluster prime - Jenny also hangs out with the nicktoons unite gang, but i deffo feel like its just that secondary friend group that you don't talk to with for months. when you talk again its the same goofiness as before - i think danny calls for her help when he needs it (also manny) Tuck: - he is still a little shit but we love him - adhd boy - questioning cis (he/him) - he got into robotics/stem and builds little silly things - with that, he gets help from Shelby - pretty much just a silly teen, he's on the internet a lot and has "cringe" interests - but idk he's having fun and being silly and finding himself (those interests is stuff like sonic and among us) Shelden(Shelby) - honestly kinda nervous about ppl thoughts on my Shelden, idk it makes so much sense in my brain - hits you with the transfem beam (she/they) Pansexual (she just wants anyone type of vibe) - I think when jenny is visiting vega often that leaves Shelby and Brad hanging out alone a lot. which they don't mind honestly, they are actually good friends! - but during that they just get closer and start catching feelings. Shelby eventually lets go of her feelings about jenny and realizes they were a real jerk and weirdo to her. brad helps them through that and eventually her realizing she's trans. blah blah they in love and kiss at some point. - Shelby is also a furry lmaooo her fursona is a cat.

Brad: - bisexual cis man (he/him) - Still his old brad self if i'm being honest. - totally forgot to say i think all 3 of them go off to college together (even though jenny doesn't have to i feel like she would prob want to just for the experience, but tell me if you think differently i'm still unsure) - i really don't know what else to say sorry brad! he's literally just as silly as ever man. he's just also gay - i will say here i feel it takes a lot longer for shelby and brad to start dating then jenny and vega. they got that slow burn kinda shit going on, since a lot of that is shelby being confused about her feelings. and jenny and vega just hit it off right away if im being honest, very high school sweethearts. - (also i think shelby makes brad make a fursona to match hers, so brad got a dog fursona)

Vega: - Lesbian cis (she/her) - That ending of her just ruling cluster prime was just so crazy to me cause like, aint she like 16? - i think she has a lot of stressed nights and fearing she's not doing the right thing for her people, and jenny tries to help as much she can - that is why jenny visits so much, she wants to help her. - very much got those nights were she accidently falls asleep at her desk, jenny finding her and giving her a blanket and a kiss goodnight - it's not like she's unhappy, she is actually very very passionate about her work and wants to NOT be like her mom - and yeah she deffo goes to robo therapy for the stuff with her mom. - i think it's a conflict where vega is scared her mom is gonna come back and jenny has to reassure her that if she does they'll get rid of her for good.

imma be honest a lot of my hcs are pretty half-baked and random things, im sure im going to think of more stuff in the future but that will be in different posts.

[pit-and-the-pen]

Don't Go

For day three of @acotar-omegaverse-week :All tied up 

Summary: Azriel helps you with your heat….maybe more than you expected. 

Warnings: smut (18+), alpha/omega dynamics, mating, knots, p in v sex, slightly rough, slight breeding kink, biting, cum eating

WC: 3.4k

divider by the lovely @tsunami-of-tears

18+ below the cut

You don’t know how you had lost track of the days. You normally kept a perfect record of your cycles, in a house full of alpha’s it was necessary to avoid any awkward situations. But here you were in the middle of a walk with Azriel when you felt that thin layer of sweat bead across your forehead. The way your skin suddenly felt too tight on your body let you know it had nothing to do with the summer sun and everything to do with the fact you had miscounted by a week. 

“Azriel.” You tried to whisper, pulling on the back of his shirt. He turned around and his eyes instantly went to your face, where you could feel the sweat starting to collect. “I need to go home. Now.” His eyes dilated as he caught your scent. The full wave of your heat washes over him as he faces you. He quickly nodded at you before pulling you tight against his chest and winnowing you both back to the river house. 

You were clinging to him so tightly that he had to pry your hands off of him to get you to lay down in your nest. Being very careful not to accidentally step in it. 

“Do you remember what we talked about last time?” 

His words floated through the air. You tried your best to remember what he was talking about. 

“Do you still want my shadows here?” He saved you the energy of having to remember. Now you want to sink into the ground. YOu had asked him at the end of your last heat if you could borrow his shadows. After Nesta had found you basically pawing at Azriel’s door during your last heat, you had the idea of them being around to keep you in check. A guard that wouldn’t be affected by an omega in heat. 

You nodded. Mortification quickly overrides the pain. 

“I need you to say it, my sweet omega.” And those words coming off of his tongue sent a hard cramp through you. Your core clenching around nothing. 

“Yes. Please.” You were forcing yourself to stay seated on the ground, to wrap a blanket tighter around yourself to keep from jumping Azriel. Those two words, my omega, had every part of your brain buzzing. But you were early enough in your heat to remind yourself that Azriel didn’t want you that way. His face when he had found your scent in the hallway last time was more than enough confirmation. 

“Alright. I’ll have the maids bring you some food and water. Okay?” He got up to walk out of your room, some of his shadows staying behind, already curling up around your body as you closed your eyes and tried to get the last little bit of lucid sleep you could get. 

----

Every second was torture. His shadows wrapped around your feet keeping you rooted in place when all you wanted was the male across the house. His shadows smelled like him and it did nothing to soothe your raging omega instincts. It’s not like you haven’t thought of Azriel like that before. That forest, smokey and downright mouthwatering smell that lingered on your skin for days after you would hug him. 

The shadows at least let you have your hands. Which were doing absolutely nothing to help the cramps wracking through your body. You currently have two fingers buried inside of yourself. Slick coated your thighs and the blankets underneath you, but it still wasn’t enough. YOu tried your best to muffle your moans and cries of Azriel’s name. A small part of you was ashamed for even thinking of him but it was impossible to think clearly with the black wisps curled around your ankles and torso. The weight felt wrong. Your body is crying out for a different weight, a warmer weight that wouldn’t be coming. Neither would you apparently. No matter how hard or fast you fucked yourself on your fingers, it still isn’t enough. Fuck it. You were about to crawl out of your nest and beg Azriel to help but the shadows wouldn’t let you move. Tears leaked out of your eyes as you struggled against them. 

Just when you were about to give up, you felt one of the shadows brush across your wrist. Settling around your skin in a way that pressed your hand further inside of yourself. Then the pressure was gone, letting your hand slip back out. It happened two more times before you realized what was happening. His shadows were helping you. And it worked for a little. That peak became a little bit closer to your grasp but it slipped away again. Your body all but screaming for Azriel. Having his shadows wasn’t a replacement for the real thing. 

You were writhing in pain less than an hour later. The shadows had let up enough to let you pad off to the bathroom, helping you draw the coldest bath the house would allow for. Again, it helped only for a moment before the water felt too heavy on your skin. You tried to get out, body feeling so weak that you just slumped back down into the half filled tub. Your arms were shaking with how badly your whole body was hurting. You could only pull your knees tight against your chest as sobs started to slip from your mouth. You rubbed at the gland on the side of your neck, itchy and tight. If you had any more energy you would have been shocked with how raised the skin was. But you could only sob harder as you scratched at your mating gland. 

A heat had never hurt this badly before. You had been alive for half a century, this was far from your first time alone. You couldn’t place just what exactly was different this time but something was. A small knock from your door had you flinching. 

“Sweetheart. It’s me.” Azriel’s voice called from the other side of the door. Your body almost buzzed in excitement before horror washed over you. His voice was tight. Signaling that he didn’t want to be here. Why was he here? It was then that you noted none of the familiar shadows were in the room. They must have gone to get him when you failed to get out of the tub. Something that had a small part of you preening. Alpha’ here to take care of us. That small voice in your head purred. But he wasn’t your alpha. Wanted nothing to do with you in that way. Another sob slipped past your lips that had him knocking on the door again. You didn’t answer. More content with sitting in the tub then having to face him. Another moment went by and you heard the door click open. 

The smell from his shadows had been bad but him standing in the doorway was a new level of hell. You tried to scramble to the other side of the giant tub, desperate to put any space between the two of you. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m just going to help you get out. Is that okay?” He paused, hands outstretched towards you. You ran your eyes up and down his tall frame and tried to remember how to speak. You could only nod, not trusting your voice. Azriel picked up a towel that was on the ground and approached the tub. When he picked you up, he made sure that none of your skin touched. He was so repulsed by you that he didn’t even glance at your nakedness. You knew he didn’t feel that way about you but it hurt something inside of you to see him not even react. He was an alpha, he should at least have a little reaction to an omega in heat. Regardless of how he felt about you. 

You tried to blink back the tears but you were in too much pain to stop them. You just wanted to sleep. Just wanted to be wrapped in his arms. You felt the slight fan of air from his wings as they flapped anxiously behind him. He deposited you back into your nest, carefully wrapping the towel around you to keep you covered. You expected him to run out of the room after but he was lingering at the edge of your bed. Watching as you buried yourself into the blankets. 

“You don’t have to stay. Az. I know you don’t want to be here.” You sniffled, instantly kicking yourself for how pathetic you sounded. His wings twitched again. 

“What do you mean, princess?” 

“I know you don’t want to be here right now. So just go. Thank you for helping me”

He froze. And for the first time you looked at him. His eyebrows pulled together, making his forehead wrinkle slightly. His cheeks were slightly flushed and you continued looking down. You sucked in a breath as you realized he was rock hard. You couldn’t force your eyes to look away. Not even as he spoke. 

“I thought you didn’t want me.” His words were tight. “Until my shadows started telling me every detail. Reporting back to me how sweetly you were calling my name. They were telling me how good you smelled, how wet you were for me.” His voice dropped an octave and it had your skin flushing. You didn’t have a response. 

“Do you want me to help you, omega?” You had to be dreaming. You must have fallen asleep or maybe you hit your head while you were trying to get out of the tub and this was a hallucination. Either way, you knew it couldn’t be real. Azriel wasn’t here in your room, inches from your nest offering to help you with your heat. 

“Omega?” The word was sharper this time and had you answering before you could think. 

“Yes.” 

“Yes what?”

“Yes I want you to help me, alpha.” And he was all over you then. His lips caught yours and you could have sobbed in relief. His hands chased away the scorching heat that trailed over your skin. But did nothing to help the emptiness you felt between your legs. He nipped at your bottom lip, teeth digging in in a way that had your back arching off of the bed. His scarred hands snaked up to rest on your breast. A hand going up to squeeze your nipple. You moaned his name and he pulled away from you, panting. 

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Do you want me? Saw the word and I’ll walk away.” 

A twinge of panic rushed through you at the idea of him leaving. So you didn't answer, only reached out for the collar of his shirt and pulled him back to you. You flipped him onto his back and crawled into his lap. 

“Yes. Yes. I’ve wanted this for so long.” You were trailing kisses over his collarbone. You started undoing the buttons on his shirt, kissing each inch of newly exposed skin until he was pulling the shirt off the rest of the way. He lifted you with one hand as you helped him slide off his pants. Not caring where they ended up as you saw his cock smack against his abs. Your mouth watered at the sight, slick dripping down your leg. He was perfect. Thick and long, a slight curve. And at the base you could already see the thicker red skin of his knot. 

You didn’t waste any time before you took him in your hand, lifting your hips up to guide him to your entrance. 

“Need to stretch you out first.” He gritted, a hand on your hip stilling your motion. 

“No. Need you now. Want your knot, alpha.” You whined, your free hand trying to bat the hand on your hip away. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t letting you sink down. You felt so empty. So close to what you wanted and he wasn’t going to let you have it. 

“I’m yours.” He said as he locked eyes with you. His hand didn’t leave but the force behind it was gone. Letting you, finally, fill yourself up with him. Your brain had stopped working. All thoughts are gone from your mind except for how perfect he felt inside of you. You chased away the last of the cramps as you started to ride him. Rocking your hips back and forth against him. A string of curses and garbled versions of his name left your lips as he tangled a hand into your hair, pulling your head back. His tongue lightly swiped over your scent gland and you exploded around him. Your orgasm leaves you seeing stars. That didn’t stop either of you. In one motion he had you pushed onto your hands and knees. The impact cushioned by the plush blankets underneath you. His thrusts were ruthless. The room filled with the sound of your bodies colliding with each other. Slick was still leaking down your leg as he wrapped your hair around his hand, pulling your back against his chest. His free hand trailed between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit until you were bucking into him. His lips were all over your neck until they landed near your ear. 

“Look at how perfectly you take my cock. Think of how good you’ll take my knot.” You whined and he nipped at your earlobe. “Do you like the idea of that? Me filling you up until you're round with my kids?” 

“Yes. Fuck. Wanna be full of you alpha.” You screamed for him. You could already feel your second orgasm rushing toward you, having no moment to come down. You could feel the edges of his knot started to catch on each thrust. You were about to beg for more, for him to fuck you harder, but a sharp feeling on your neck had you freezing in place. Not the right side of your neck, not the one that would bind you two together. Not the side you wanted him to bite. 

“Mark me, alpha. Want you. Bite me. Please. Az. Please.” You babbled. Tears streaming down your face again, but this time because you wanted him so badly. He was right there but it wasn’t enough. You wanted him permanently. Wanted your scents to fill the room, wrapped together. 

“Want me to mark this pretty neck, sweet omega?” You shook your head, crying out your pleas. He growled, the sound rattling your body. 

“Fuck. Just a little longer. Gonna cum with me?” You would have done anything he said at this moment. His knot almost locking you in place now. He was close and you could only moan and whimper as you felt it stretching you with every thrust. A few more well timed pushes of his hips and you fell apart. Right at the same time you felt him filling you up. The same moment you felt his teeth latch into the right side of your neck. Your vision blurred as tears sprung in your eyes again. The feeling so perfect that you barreled straight into your third orgasm. His mouth was clamped onto your shoulder, tongue soothing the bleeding skin. He rocked his hips back and forth as much as the knot would allow. You swore you could feel him pushing his cum further into you. 

You reached back and pulled Azriel off of your neck, joining your lips. You could taste your blood on his lips but you didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything else as you pulled him closer to you, tried to turn your body towards him as much as your current position would allow for. 

The tow of you stayed like that until his knot went down. Until he was pulling out of you. You felt his cum drip down your leg and whimpered at the feeling of losing it. 

Azriel only kissed your forehead, kissed down the path the tears had left on your face. He kept kissing down past your collarbone, your chest, until strong hands were pushing you to lay down for him. He placed sucking kisses to your plush thighs, down your legs and back up. This time his tongue collecting the trails of slick that coated your thighs. All the way until he got to your dripping cunt. You were about to say something to him, about to plead for him to hurry up when he licked a long stripe through your folds. Your hands shot to the back of his head as his tongue darted into your opening. Pushing his cum back into you. 

“Alpha.” You cried out. Eyes screwed closed as you felt wave after wave of pleasure coarse through you. There was something else there, some new edge of desire that had you reeling. You could feel his own heightened emotions. Arousal leaked off of him as he reached down to stroke his cock. He moaned into your folds, making your back arch off of the bed as you started to ride his face. He took every thrust perfectly. Not missing a beat as you used him to get off. Loud noises of your slick filling the room as you ate you out like a man starved. It was eventually too much, you were teetering from the edge again and knew it wouldn’t be enough. You needed him inside you again.

You pulled him off of you, a motion that had him growling until you parted your legs for him. It took him no time at all to cage you in, arms on either side of your head. You wrapped your hand around his leaking cock and guided him to your entrance. He pushed in so slowly you were a writhing mess underneath him as he sheathed himself full inside of you. HIs own moans matching yours as he threw his head back. Eyes squeezed closed as he started to move again. You went to wrap your legs around his waist before he stopped you, wrapping a hand around your knee to push it up against your chest. You didn;t think it was possible for him to go deeper but as he threw your foot over your shoulder you swore your vision blacked out at the pleasure. You couldn’t move. Only take everything he gave you. Each punished thrust of his hips against yours and you mewling against him. He took his time, long strong thrusts that had you clenching around him. Your nails clawed at his back, searching for any purchase against the torturous pace he set. 

“Good omega. Being so good for me. Can you take my knot again?”  

Your voice was long gone, hoarse from the screams and cries of pleasure so you could only nod, could only dig your nails into him harder to show him your agreement. He grabbed your other knee and pressed it against your chest, pulling you into a mating press that had you gasping for breath around the pleasure. You didn’t think you could cum again, but Azriel’s long strokes had you writhing underneath him. Begging for more. 

“Gonna fill you up again.” He growled in your ear. And then his knot caught again. The feeling pulling shudders from your body. A soft cry escaped your mouth as you came again. Not as hard as the first times but enough that it felt you panting underneath him. Clawing at his hair to bring his lips to yours again. 

Once both of you had calmed down a touch, he rolled the two of you over so you were on your side, legs tucked in behind yours perfectly. A part of you preened at the way he fit so well behind you, the way the two of you seemed to fit together. LIke you were made for each other. 

“I think we very well are.” He said into your ear, so close that his breath on your neck made you shudder. You didn’t think you had said the words out loud but all questions left your mind as he starting trailing kisses on the back of your neck, along the angry red skin of your newly marked mating gland. And that little press of his tongue, the way your scents filled the room. Not two scents anymore but one perfectly blended thing. It was that fact that had you drifting off to sleep in his arms. Heat perfectly quelled for the time being.

tag list: @ninthcircleofprythian @nocasdatsgay @sarawritestories @readychilledwine @milswrites @daycourtofficial @tsunami-of-tears

[patscorner]

Night, Night

Summary: You and your girlfriend expose your relationship at night.

wc: 2,027

Contains: just fluff, one of the worst endings I've written, but I hope yall enjoy.

______________________________

“Let's gooooo!!! Suck it, Kamorea!!” Paige shouts, standing from the couch and throwing her controller down before doing a victory lap around the dorm room. KK rolls her eyes at the blonde's antics and turns to her phone on the desk.

It'd been a while since all the girls had been able to really hang out, but since summer sessions had just ended, you decided a little gathering was well deserved. You invited the team to your apartment to chill, which is what led you to now; sitting next to your girlfriend on the couch, watching KK and Paige play rocket league, occasionally laughing at the comments that came from KK's live. You and Morgan weren't public yet, so you made sure you stayed a safe distance away from her so as to not raise suspicions.

You were doing an okay job, having to stop yourself from lacing your fingers with hers. Aubrey was at the desk, monitoring the comments, reading a couple out loud, and ignoring the out of pocket ones. You watched as Paige ran out of the room shouting, probably bothering anybody who was possibly sleeping. You can't help but giggle when you hear her being scolded by Azzi in the kitchen.

What you don't see is Morgan staring at you, hearts in her eyes, watching the way your eyes squint close and the way the corners of your mouth crease as you laugh. Aubrey sees it, though, and so do the other 1,527 viewers. Aubrey turns around and looks at Morgan, wordlessly waiting for her to stop looking at you. When she eventually does, Aubrey makes a face, and her eyes flick to the phone screen.

You look between them, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What, what happened?”

“Nothing.” The girls say in unison. Morgan clears her throat, trying to will the blush that had crept onto her face. KK turned around and smirked.

“Morrrrgggiieeeeee,” She teased, drawing a laugh from Aubrey and an eye roll from the freshman.

“Oookay!” Morgan stood up abruptly, the blanket you were sharing, falling off of her. “Where are you going?” You ask, pouting as she walked towards the door.

“Just to the kitchen, you need anything?” She turns, sliding her phone in her right pocket. You smile at her gesture. “Just some chips, if we have any.” She nods before walking out.

“I'm all good, thanks for asking, Morgie!” KK calls after her, Aubrey shaking her head as she turns back to the phone. “Shut up, KK!” Morgan calls back.

Paige comes back into the room with a pout on her face. “What's wrong with you?” You ask as she plops down on the couch next to you, opposite where Morgan was sitting. “Azzi is being mean.”

“Me telling you not to sit on me is not being mean!!” A voice calls.

“Whatever.” Paige groans, pulling her phone out.

You shake your head before going on your phone. You already feel your stomach tighten in the absence of the love of your life. You both have been dating for eight months, and it's been everything you wanted and more. It didn't take long for the team to figure it out, and as soon as they did, they teased you both relentlessly. You couldn't even smile at your phone without them asking if it was Morgan. Granted, it always was, but that's besides the point.

You think about the moments you've had with her. Whether it's playing 1 on 1 with her at 2 am, because she couldn't sleep or sitting next to each other on the couch after an argument, talking out your feelings. You think about the times she would leave the house when you were sick to get the medicine you wanted, even if you already had some that would've worked just the same. You think about the subtle sparks that burned until they were blazing inferno whenever you grazed each other during a game or at a party. You think about the heated makeout sessions that turned into more and you think about the slow, lazy kisses you shared while drifting in and out of consciousness.

Where is she?

You're about three seconds from getting up and searching for Morgan when she walks in with four bags of chips and a bottle of water. “Wha- why do you have so many?” You question.

The brunette gives you one of her dopey grins before as she sets them on the table. “I didn't know which one you wanted, so I brought one of each.” You can't hide the smile that sneaks its way to your face as you take the water from her. “Thank you, ba- Morgie.” You correct yourself quick enough that only the girl in front of you could hear it. Her eyes are wide with amusement. “You're welcome.” She says, plopping down next to you.

KK turns around and looks at the chips in Morgan's hand. “Whipped.” Is all she mutters and the other girls burst into giggles, including yourself.

Morgan grabs a pillow and throws it at her, hitting her in the back of the head. KK glares at her, and Morgan sticks her tongue out.

“Girl boo!”

“If Morgan could pass the ball like that, Coach would stop making us run suicides.” Paige muttered quietly, but not quiet enough because the room erupted with laughter. You place your hand on the freshman’s thigh, patting her lovingly as she glared at you, who was struggling to stifle your laughter. You bit your lip, and Morgan's eyes trailed to them, and suddenly, your breath hitched.

“Not too much on my kid, c’mon, yall.” Aubrey says, giggles escaping her lips. She glances at the comments, some people talking about the way Morgan was looking at you. She ignores them. “You act your any better, P, how do you miss a layup?”

“Woah! There were two people next to me!” Paige defends herself.

“Please, they were practically social distancing. You had plenty of room.” You say, earning a glare from her. You attempt to ignore the girl on the other side of you, whose arm is subtly wrapping itself around your waist from behind. You raise your eyebrows as you turn to Morgan, astonished by her boldness. She ignores you and pretends to be on her phone.

The night drags on as KK has started the talent show. Paige migrated to the floor after telling Aubrey she could get more kills than her in fortnite. You've sprawled out, legs where Paige once was, head in your girlfriend's lap. The day was starting to catch up to you as you started to drift in and out of consciousness, and Morgan, running her hands through your hair delicately, was lulling you to sleep. Despite your efforts to fight sleep, she could feel your body relax when you nodded off and tense up again when you realized you'd done so.

A small smile made home on her lips as she leaned down to your ear. “You tired?” she asked, pausing her hand movements. You shook your head. “Mmm-mmm. Wide awake, you?” You mumble. She scoffs playfully, resuming her hands.

“Do you wanna go to your room?” she whispers. “No.” You say. “‘m good right here.”

“Go to sleep, then.” She hums. You nod sheepishly before drifting off once more.

You'd been asleep for no longer than five minutes, before KK was yelling at Paige, who was trying to beat Aubrey's five kills in Fortnite.

“Paige, go left! There's like three peop- no! Your other left! Dumba-”

“Watch your mouth!” Aubrey yells before KK finishes the word. Just then, Paige gets a kill, and she exclaims loudly.

“Let's go!!!” She shouts before locking back in.

“Could yall quiet down?” Morgan says, causing Aubrey and KK to look at her, then glance at you, dozing off again, before looking at each other. “Is she really sleeping, right now? It's only 8:30.” KK laughs. Aubrey giggles. “Guess my kid is a grandmother.”

Morgan shakes her head, looking down at you. “No, just between school and practice, she hasn't been sleeping well.”

She can't help the smile that crawls onto her face as she glances down at you, eyes fluttered shut peacefully. The peace had been missing from your features for weeks, and been replaced with furrowed brows and stressed wrinkles.

KK and Aubrey look at each other before bursting out in loud laughter, waking you up once more, causing you to groan.

“She's so whipped, bro.” Paige mutters, her eyes never leaving the screen. This only eggs the other girls on, everybody forgetting about the now 2,000 people watching them on the other side of their phone screens.

"I know you're not talking." Morgan shoots back.

"Ay, not too much." Paige laughs.

Morgan rolls her eyes at the girls before leaning back down to your ear. “Let's go to bed, sweetheart.” She mumbles.

You don't even try to fight it this time. You just hum and sheepishly sit up before leaning your head back on the couch and letting your eyes close once more. At this point, nobody cared about the live, it being long forgotten on the desk.

Morgan patted your thigh before standing up. “Come on, pretty girl, let's get you to bed.” You whine as she wraps her arms around your back, pulling you up to your feet. “No..” You slur, your voice muffled by her shirt. She laughs as you reluctantly wrap your arms around her neck, and she taps the back of your thighs to signal you to jump, and you oblige. KK eyes widen, looking at you guys, then back at the live, watching people slowly start to freak out.

“Do I need to-” She cuts herself off when she sees Morgan shaking her head. “Don't worry about it. It was bound to happen.” She offers a small smile before kissing your head and walking out of the room. She hears the girls laughing in shock before she closes the door behind her. She earns giggles from Ice, Azzi, Ayanna, and Jana, who are playing a quiet game of UNO.

It's almost funny how easily she carried you to your bed, laying you down before standing back up. You whine and lift your arms up to her, signaling you want her to stay. She laughs before kissing your cheek. “I'll be right back, baby, hold on.”

Morgan walks out of the room and back into the room with KK. She gathers your phone, as well as the empty bags of chips and other trash that had gathered. “Bro, Morgan, come give these people a backstory so I can stop avoiding these comments.” the shorter girl groans. Morgan, Paige, and Aubrey laugh as she makes her way next to KK.

She squints as the questions roll in. “How long have y'all been dating?” She reads. “Uhhh- almost a year.” she smiles as she answers.

“Who said ‘I love you first?’” KK reads, turning to Morgan, who's blushing.

“Me, but she knew first. She just didn't tell me.” She rolls her eyes playfully.

“Okay, okay, that's enough. This is not Morgan's live, and I'm not bouta sit here and listen to this story again.” She complains. Morgan sends her a glare before backing up. “Whatever, she's waiting for me, anyway. Goodnight, Live.” She smiles and waves. “Night, Morgie.” KK says, directing her attention back to the TV screen.

“Night.” Aubrey offers. Morgan looks at the blonde. “Goodnight, Paige.”

All she gets is a grunt. She rolls her eyes before walking back out and offering the other girls goodnight.

She walked back into your room to find you right where she left you. She smiles as she kisses your cheek, waking you up gently. “Get under the blanket, baby.” She whispers. You move automatically, still sleep.

She crawls onto you, pulling the blanket over you both. She put all of her weight on you, her face in the crook of your neck, where she presses a kiss. “Goodnight. Love you.” She whispers. All she gets is a hum back, but she doesn't miss the way your arms wrap around her body, holding her securely onto her.

______________________________

taglist: @wintersstan @bueckerslover @lilia22hicks @fake-intelligences @girlokwhatever @pbloverr @breeloveschris-deactivated20240 @cosmopretty @hellokittyfeenie @averagelobotomyenjoyer @elliewilliamsthang @chelisbae @angelscovee

[sweetbans29]

It’s Not You, It’s Them - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You hide your parents from Caitlin (based on THIS request)

Warnings: slight (maybe a little more than slight) angst, mentions of verbal abuse, SUPPORTIVE CC, a happy ending (because we all need it)

Word Count: 3.2k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN:

Caitlin is the light of your life. She has been since the first day that you met her. The friendship that was built between the two of you is one that has kept you going even when everything else in the world seemed to be working against you.

The two of you met freshman year during summer training - your high school had conditioning days to help get everyone into shape before their respective seasons or pre-seasons.

You had been talking to the soccer coach and they encouraged you to go to training, talking about how varsity was very promising for your freshman year. You were one of three freshmen that they were looking at joining the varsity team.

Caitlin was one of the other girls they were looking at. The two of you were some of the first people to show up on the first day, immediately hitting it off and talking about how competitive you both are. The two of you spent the latter part of the summer suffering through training together. You thought Caitlin was insane for playing both basketball and soccer at the same time but seeing how much she enjoyed playing the game, it made sense.

She made the transition into high school bearable. Your freshman year the two of you spent most of your time at school - either in the classroom or on the field. You learned that having her as a teammate was the best possible outcome that you could have ever had.

It was the summer going into sophomore year when the two of you spent pretty much every day at her house. The two of you would keep up with your training so once pre-season workouts started you wouldn't die like the summer before.

That summer was one of the best summers you have ever had - most of it was because you spent it at hers and didn't have to be home. It was also the best because, after a night of deep life conversations, you admitted your feelings for the girl. To your delight, she reciprocated them and the two of you started dating that summer.

During the school year, you would always go watch her play basketball when you weren't both on the field for soccer. And any time the two of you hung out, it would either be doing something out and about or at Caitlin's.

It wasn't until the end of sophomore year that Caitlin questioned why she hadn't met your parents yet.

Your soccer team made it to State and it was the talk of the town. It was the first time the girl's soccer team had made it and for the championship game, the whole school was going to support.

Up to this point, Caitlin hasn't said much but knowing how excited and proud you were for this game she decided to test the waters.

"Hey babe, I have a question for you," She says as the two of you are walking out of practice.

"What's up?" You ask as you are trying to make sure your bag is closed as you juggle carrying everything you need to bring home before the game.

"Why is it whenever we hang out, it is always at my house? You have gotten to know my parents and you know they absolutely love you but I haven't met yours yet?" She asks. In her mind, the reason you haven't introduced her to them is because you were ashamed of her in some way.

You see how her shoulders slump a little and how disappointment lingers on her face. It makes you stop dead in your tracks and she stops but doesn't look at you.

You turn to face her but her eyes don't meet yours. You try to get her to look at you but she keeps avoiding your gaze.

"Hey, hey. Look at me Cait." You say as your bag comes to the ground and your hand comes up to her arm, forcing her to stay facing you. She finally gives in and makes eye contact with you.

"My parents would love you." You say. "They are just super busy all the time. I barely see them." You don't know if now is the time to dive into the whole story as to why you spend so much time at her house and not at home. Ever since you have gotten to high school - you did everything in your power to stay away from home which was easy to do with all the events and extracurriculars. You never wanted to get in their way since they made it very known any time you did.

"I just thought it was because of me or that we are dating or something like that," she says, avoiding your gaze again. "I know some parents are as supportive of the relationship we have."

"Oh babe, that's not it, I promise. When the opportunity presents itself I will introduce you. It is just hard when they are so busy." You say reassuring your girl.

Caitlin trusts you. She knows how much you love her already and has no doubts that you want her. It is just hard at times when Cait sees how much her family loves you and wants that to be reciprocated with your parents. She knows you spend most of your time at hers, whether it be after practice or spending the night but it would be nice to be able to see your home.

Cait also knows how you look for them in the crowd during games but never says anything. It is the polar opposite of her family who is at every one of her games - even pre-season. You never bring it up, nor does Cait, but she notices.

The championship game was no different. In the first half, she noticed how your eyes would scan the crowd in hopes of seeing them there. It isn't until after your team has won that hope fades from your eyes as you are congratulated by everyone except the two people who should be there. Caitlin almost misses the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes as her parents come up with flowers and a poster for you. She doesn't say anything but takes note.

You told yourselves that if your parents couldn't get themselves to come to one of the biggest games of your career thus far, then you would truly stay out of their way and just bear what you needed before heading to college.

The next time Caitlin brings it up is during junior year when she offers to pick you up for a date and you turn her down, saying you will meet her at hers.

Caitlin pushes it and insists on picking you up, suggesting that the two of you spend the night at your house this time since her parents will be throwing a dinner party with their friends.

You tell her that they can't stay yours because your parents have a project that they are working on and have taken over the house.

Cait doesn't cave and continues to bug you about it which is the cause of your first fight.

The two of you don't end up going out due to being frustrated with one another. Caitlin doesn't understand why she can't go to your house since the two of you have been together for almost two years at this point and she still hasn't met your parents. You on the other hand don’t know why Caitlin pushes so hard when everything is perfectly fine the way it is currently.

You rarely talk about your parents or home life and for good reason. You didn't lie when you said your parents were always busy but it also wasn't the complete truth.

The relationship with your parents changed drastically when your family moved to Des Moines, IA. Before the move, you were one big happy family. Your parents were super involved in school events and they were always supporting you in sports. But then your dad's job had you moving to a new city and pulling your family away from its community and everything shifted.

Your mom fell into a major depression - taking away from her being a mother. Your dad was always busy with work, making sure to provide for your family. This left you to have to fend for yourself. As you grew up you realized that the less of a burden you were the happier your parents were. They began to enjoy life again but the second you needed something or pulled them from the life that they began building without you - it was like all hell broke loose. They changed from being their happier selves and treated you like you weren't even wanted anymore.

It wasn't hard to see that your parents enjoyed life better without you so you decided to be the least of a burden as you could. Staying out late so they wouldn't have to see you and leaving really early. The less they saw you the less you had to deal with the verbal abuse.

That is why you worked so hard in school and in your sport. You needed an out and didn't want to give them any reason for them to say no. Although knowing your dad, he would pay for you to go whenever you wanted as long as it was far away. But you didn't want to owe him anything. So you poured yourself into your academics and soccer, making yourself one of the top recruits for college.

Caitlin and you made up shortly after the fight, both apologizing for what was said. The two of you decided that your relationship with each other was more important than your relationships with others.

It isn't until senior year that it comes up again but in a very different way than you would have expected.

It is signing day for seniors and you and Caitlin were both signing to Iowa to play your respective sports. Cait dropped soccer going into her junior year as basketball became her main sport. She verbally committed to the University of Iowa that year and you verbally committed to be a Hawkeye for soccer just a few months later. But today is the day the school sets up an assembly where you physically sign your papers.

Your parents are coming to the assembly, knowing the only reason they were there is because it was mandatory for them to be there. If it didn't involve you leaving, they wouldn't give it the time of day.

You are nervous as this would be the first time they are in the same building as Caitlin and her family. You know Caitlin's parents will be amazing, they always are, but for yours - you have no idea how they would react.

They know you have been dating a girl named Caitlin for a while now but never asked you about it. They could honestly care less, which is saying something considering their care for you was almost nonexistent.

You are sitting at the table, listening to your coach's speech on how proud your school is to have you go to the University of Iowa on a full scholarship to play soccer.

The ceremony ends and you see your parents talking with your principal who is showing them what they need to do. Before you know it, you see them walking out - without even a hello to you.

You run them as they walk out of the gym, catching them right on the other side of the door.

"Hey, you weren't even going to come and say hi?" You say as they just stand there looking at you. "I have a few people I want to introduce you to."

Little to your knowledge, Caitlin had run after you when she saw you go after your parents. She stopped when she heard you saying that you wanted to introduce them to people. She stayed on the other side of the gym door listening.

"You know we don't care about meeting anyone - the only reason we are here is because we were required to be in order to get you to leave come the fall." Your father says.

"This is already cutting into work day and the last thing we need is for you to take more of our time." Your mother says.

"It takes two seconds for you to meet them, that's it." You try and ration with them knowing it will only make things worse. But this is the closest you have ever been to making this happen and you know how much Caitlin wanted this.

"Oh trust us, there is no reason they would want to meet us, we have nothing to say about you.” Your mother says. "You have already caused us this headache of having to come out, now asking us to be social with people we care about less than we care about you. You should know us better than that by now to know we just don't care at all."

You swallow the anger and pain that is rising in your chest.

"Oh and about your senior night," your father begins. "Your principal mentioned that we should be there to walk you down the field but that doesn't seem important. Don't expect us to be there."

"Actually, if you could, make sure you are packed and moved out right after graduation. You're 18 and will be out of school therefore you are no longer our problem." Your mother says and it feels like you have just been stabbed in the chest.

Not that it came as a surprise to you but you didn't know where you would go or how begin to begin explaining this to Caitlin.

You just stare at them, not trusting your voice and they walk away.

You take the time you need to compose yourself - thinking through all the possibilities of where you could go after graduation. You feel like you have just been hit by a truck.

Caitlin, on the other side of the door, is now in tears. She is crying for you and hearing the words your own parents said to you. She is crying for all the times she has pushed you, trying to meet them or go and spend time at your house when really you were just protecting her from them. She is crying because she feels guilty for having such loving parents when yours are the polar opposite.

Cait knows you would be extremely embarrassed if you knew she had just heard the way your parents were talking to you so she gathers herself to the best of her ability and makes her way to her mom. Her mom notices how her little girl has broken down and asks what's wrong.

"They are terrible Mom, absolutely terrible," Caitlin begins. "They aren't going to her senior night. I doubt if they will go to her graduation and they are kicking her out the day after we graduate. How can someone's parents be so hateful towards their own child?" Caitlin is now sobbing in her mom's arms.

You finally collect yourself and enter the gym again. As you do you see Caitlin and her mom walk out. You head over to her dad as the plan was to head out to get a meal after the signing.

"Where did Cait go?" You ask as you take a seat next to him.

"Oh I think they just went to the restroom, they should be back right back," he says and you start a conversation with Caitlin's brother.

Caitlin's mom takes her out to calm her down. And they begin to plan how Caitlin and her family can help support you as your family fails to do so.

The next few days, you spend a lot of time at Caitlin's. You don't say why and Caitlin doesn't dare ask, already knowing. You don't tell her about your parents not going to your senior night, not wanting to cause any drama but as it rapidly approaches you dread it.

It wouldn't the first time a players parents were there, but you know for sure you would be the only one this season who walks out alone. Caitlin will be in the crowd and that is all that you need.

Your team gets ready and makes their way out to the field, excited to greet their parents. You are talking with some teammates as they begin to line you girls up.

The way they decided to do this senior night was by calling players by position and then finishing with captains. You would be going third to last - being the first captain called. It eases you a little knowing you will not be the last person on the field with no one walking to meet you in the center of the field.

The ceremony begins and they start calling girls names. You cheer on all of your teammates, holding your breath as you are the next one up.

Your eyes are closed as your head is down. An exhale escapes you as you hear your name called. What you heard next, gave you whiplash with how fast your head flew up.

"Our first team captain going to play for the University of Iowa on a full ride is met by parents Brent and Anne!"

Your eyes fill with tears, falling freely as you see them walk their way to meet you in the center of the field. As you walk you realize they called Caitlin's parents your own. In the seconds it takes you to walk to them, you reflect on how they have loved you and cared for you as their own. Even more so when Caitlin and you told them that you were dating. They had chosen to be your family not only in this moment, but over the last four years.

They meet you in the middle of the court, both are holding flowers for you. Caitlin's mom envelopes you into a hug and you melt into her, savoring the love of a mother's hug.

"We may not have raised you, but you are a part of this family. Today, tomorrow and always. We love you, baby," Anne says as she releases you and uses her sleeves to dry your tears.

You step over and hug Brent.

"We are so proud of you," he says with a smile. "We can't wait to watch you lead the Hawkeyes to the NCAA college cup."

You all walk down and they shake the hands of your coaches. Each one of your coaches has some sort of idea of what your parents are like thank Brent and Anne for showing up for you.

You later learn that one of your closer coaches would have walked out to greet you if the Clark's hadn't asked to do so. You don’t know how but you are incredibly thankful someone was watching out for you - a literally angel.

That night you lead your team to victory, scoring 3 goals, one of them in the last few seconds going into the half putting your team in the lead. The win was a sweet one to top off the night, not that you needed anything else to make this night better.

At the end of the game - Caitlin finds you on the field and you immediately pull her into a hug.

She holds you.

"Doesn't matter what the case, doesn't matter where you are. I got you babe. I've always got you." Caitlin says not letting you go, she refuses to let you go first and will hold you as long as you need.

AN: I hope this did your prompt justice, I thought it was cute. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

Is somehow the hot twin between her and Taako

Lup Bluejeans (née... Taaco? Tacco? Taco? Tako? who tf knows this is why I'm going with her husband's last name. doylistly she gets her last name from her brother whose last name is given as "Taako again but spelled differently"): Hot, funny, smart and undead. Is there anything else you could want in a woman?? Well, in case there is: she's also canonically trans

LUP IS THE HOTTEST. VOTE LUP.

[gallusrostromegalus]

So I may have been browsing through your AEIWAM tag and came across your writing of Komamura saying it's too hot in summer when you have a fur coat you can't take off. By that logic he's gonna always be sitting beside Hitsugaya in Captain meetings if he can swing it, especially in the early days, cause that boy is like a mini air conditioner next to him. XD

Wolves are winter creatures. The double coat, the snowshoe paws, the proclivity for cuddlepiles- if Sajin could move somewhere that never got above 40F he'd be in heaven. Alas, he lives in a major city that hits triple digits in the summer, so he keeps close track of the little pieces of winter he can find.

The first person to realize his little game was Unohana. She knew about the wolfman thing- Yamamoto trusts her as much as Sasakibe, and persuaded Sajin that, should a medical emergency arise, it should not also be a medical surprise.

She is of course, the pinnacle of Medical Confidentiality.

...but his name came up during one of the Shinigami Women's Association meetings/boozing sessions, and a distinct schism appeared.

On one side was Soi Fon, Nanao, and Herself, who all found Komamura to be very polite, professional and reliable if somewhat reticent and at times, aloof.

"I swear I can't get more than three words out of him!" Nanao despairs.

"I like him. He knows how to Shut Up." Soi Fon agrees.

"He's a very private man." Unohana nods.

Across the table, Isane and Rukia are baffled.

"Captain Komamura? Ten feet tall, bucket head? That Komamura?" Rukia the so-called Ice Princess asks, gesturing to indicate their height disparity. "What the fuck are you talking about? He's SUPER friendly and will hang around to talk FOREVER."

"Yeah, every time I go to the 7th he always asks me to stay for lunch and wants to know how everyone in my family is doing and swap horror stories from the ER for tales of crazy people in the intake queue." Agrees Isane, wielder of the ice cloud Itegumo. "It's embarrassing, but one time I was more than two hours late getting back because we get to talking!"

Everyone stares at everyone else, baffled.

"Did- did I do something to piss him off?" Wonders Nanao.

"Huh. Maybe he just picked up on how much I hate small talk on the job?" Soi Fon shrugs.

Unohana is silent, thinking.

"GUESS WHO BROUGHT TEQUILA!!" Matsumoto Rangiku announces as she kicks in the door, holding four bottles of liquor, only three of which were still full.

"We need you to settle a debate!" Rukia demands at once.

"Ooh! I love passing judgement on things that don't effect me!" Rangiku coos, sitting down, her chest making an odd 'clunk' sound on the table "- there's also salt and limes!"

"It kinda effects you." Soi Fon waved her hand noncommittally. "How would you describe Captain Komamura?"

"Tall, Heavily Armored and Mysterious?" Rangiku shrugs, pulling the box of kosher salt out of her cleavage.

"...more like his personality." Isane clarified.

"Oh! Uhh... You know what? He's one of the few people that's ever complimented me on streamlining like 80% of the paperwork we have to do." Rangiku nodded, fishing the limes out as well. "Always has stuff done waaaay before I expected and I feel like a bit of a jerk for not replying immediately, but never complains if my stuff comes in late."

"Does he hang around and talk, or is he just really businesslike?" Nanao asks, eyes narrowed behind her glasses.

"Hmm..." Fowns Rangiku. "Kinda varies by the day- Sometimes he's all business, other times he'll stay and chat. I always assumed he wants to talk but sometimes he's got work, you know?"

There is much confused muttering as the limes are cut, when Unohana raises a finger.

"...How is he with Lieutenant Hitsugaya?" She asks.

"Oh, he ADORES Toshiro!" Rangiku nods enthusiastically, salting her shot glass. "He actually does the majority of Toshiro's Bankai training now because The Old Man handed it off to him so he could focus on teaching Zaraki Everything But Kendo- which, bless him for doing that, Shiro-kin could literally freeze my tits off!- and he really does a good job listening to Toshiro's concerns and confusions- he's a sensitive boy, you know? And Koma-kun is so gentle with him and to be honest I always eavesdrop on his advice because I could use it too. Delightful man all around." She nodded, and moved to down her drink.

"...Why?" She asked, pausing her drink and glaring suspiciously at Unohana.

Unohana nods with the clarity of enlightenment. "Nothing serious, but everything makes sense now." She smiles, then cracks into a small giggle. "It's rather charming, actually."

"Care to elaborate?" Soi Fon grumbles.

"Yeah that answered NOTHING." Rangiku glares.

"We noticed an interesting disparity in his behavior." Unohana explains, pushing her own glass towards Rangiku to fill. "For me, Captain Fon, and Lieutenant Ise, Komamura-Taicho is very polite, but sticks to the matter at hand and will not volunteer any further conversation. For Lieutenant Koetetsu, Miss Kuchiki and apparently Lieutenant Hitsugaya, he has all the time in the world and is quite the chatterbox."

"...Weird." Rangiku frowns, intrigued by the puzzle. "For me it's like, half and half?"

"Not quite, I think." Unohana smirks. "What do Isane, Rukia and young Toshiro all have in common?"

The Resounding Silence of Thinking Very Hard around the table was a bit of a disappointment, but they were about three bottles into the evening already.

"Can't be Height." Nanao hummed. "Rukia and Shiro-Kun are shorter than a stack of pancakes but Isane's got legs that are too long for the cover of Vouge."

"Isane and Toshiro are both silver-haired, but not me, and he doesn't seem to be particularly close to Ukitake-Taicho and I think I've actually seen him run out of a room to avoid Gin." Rukia puzzled.

"What? RUDE." Rangiku protested.

"They're all under a century old, right?" Rangiku pondered.

"No, I'm almost two hundred!" Isane sighed. "Oh wait- we all graduated early from the Academy!"

"Ehhhh, I graduated because I got adopted, I'm not a genius like you and Shiro-kun." Rukia waved. "Also, how would HE know that?"

"You're all Lieutenants!" Rangiku perked up.

"Not yet I'm not!" Rukia protested.

"Pfsh- you run half the division anyway. Jushiro should promote you to Co-lieutenant with Kaien already!" Rangiku waved.

"Its- it's complicated." Rukia mumbled. "Also, Nanao-chan is a Lieutenant and he doesn't like her!"

"Does it have to do with how freakishly huge he is?" Soi Fon asked.

"...Yes, actually." Unohana decided. Sajin might not have so much trouble thermoregulating if he was the size of a regular wolf. She reasoned privately.

"Also, He likes Nanao-chan just fine as far as I know. I think it's less about how much he enjoys your company- which I think he does, he's not one for putting on facades- and more about how much he enjoys your Proximity." She clarified, taking her shot. "Oh, this is good, what is it?"

"Cabrito Blanco." Rangiku read off. "Huh. The Cabrito on the label sure ain't Blanco." She frowned at the brown goat.

"None of us have transferred out of the Division we started in, but again, how would he know? and that hasn't got anything to do with Proximity..." Isane frowned.

Rukia slammed her glass down. "WOW that's got a kick. Maybe uhhhh... None of us wear perfume, but Gin doesn't either. I hope. I don't want to get close enough to find out."

"He's really not that bad-" Rangiku sulked. "OH, 'Blanco' refers to the tequila and this is that goat's white tequila!" She realized.

"Sometimes I wish I could take a weekend vacation in your brain. Its machinations fascinate me." Soi Fon teased. "Hmmm... Lotta close but no Cigar, you're all young-ish, Isane and Toshiro have living relatives and Rukia has a large adopted family, but again, not exclusive or Proximal. You're also all S-rank duelists with- OH!"

"Shh, I'm enjoying the flailing." Retsu grinned.

"Pfff- okay, that is kinda cute and I don't blame him." Soi Fon giggled. "Sometimes I'm real glad my seat is right next to The Old Man for the same reason. Or opposite reason, I guess."

"Bwah?" Rangiku frowned.

"I do the same thing with You, Momo and The Old Man that He's doing with them." Soi Fon grinned. Rangiku frowned, peculiar machinations grinding slowly through the tequila, before she suddenly cackled, head thrown back so hard Unohana had to reach out and grab her by the scarf to keep her from tipping her chair over.

"OH NOOOOOOOO!!" She wailed, shoulders shaking. "Oh- that's cute but Toshiro can NEVER find out he'll be such a brat about it!"

"Sorry I'm late, I had to finish the latest report on the Rice Farm Subsidy Fraud Investigation!" Momo panted, jogging in late. "-What can't Toshiro find out about?"

"There is SOMETHING that You, ran-chan and Yamamoto-sama share, and it's the same thing but backwards as what Me, Hitsugaya, and Isane have in common that Komamura-taicho really likes it or something, and THEY know but won't TELL US and its MAKING ME CRAZY!" Rukia wailed.

Momo stood, expression blank for a few moments. "Wait. You didn't know?"

"KNOW WHAT?" Rukia wailed.

"That Komamura hangs around with people with Ic-Mmpf!" Momo started to reveal but was abruptly tackled and the rest of the sentence smothered in Rangiku's Cleavage.

"With WHAT?" Nanao demanded. "What do they have that I don't?"

"-Hang on." Isane frowned, the slowly turned to her captain, squinting. "Is. Is this a... Physics Issue?"

"That's one way to phrase it." Unohana smiled as Momo flailed for air.

"Oh my Gooooood..." Isane groaned. "Why doesn't he just ASK? I'd happily go over and give Itegumo some practice, I hate summertime too!"

"Huh?" Rukia glared, as Momo finally fought her way free and gasped for air.

"Itegumo? That's your- ohhhhhhh." Nanao realized. "That's. Okay yeah that's actually really cute." She giggled. "Poor guy. The armor can't help with that, can it?"

"That's what I keep telling him but it's-" Unohana waved her hands and grimaced with frustration. "-He wears the armor because he's facing the *stupidest* form of Political Persecution I've ever heard of." she sighed.

"Really?" Asked Momo. "Captain Tousen said Komamura told him it's because he's got a major disfigurement or something?"

Unohana sighed and rolled her eyes. "Komamura is FINE, he's just- It's complicated and medically private but trust me, the helmet is a reasonable precaution against an absurd problem."

"Oh." Momo winced. "Well, I'm glad he's medically alright at least!" "I'm so fucking confused." Rukia whimpered, deflating over the table in despair. "Is. Is hanging out with me making him less sick or something??"

"...Yes!" Unohana smiled. "Or at least, makes his condition more physically comfortable."

Rukia turned that over a few times. "...Talking with him is helping?"

"Yes, but only if you're in the same room with him. Doesn't work over the phone." Unohana nodded.

"Okay." Rukia said, reaching for the nearest bottle. "Lets talk about something else."

---

Years Later, after the Bedlam of her attempted execution and Subsequent Rescue, Rukia finally saw Komamura's face.

It was a bit awkward, walking into the hospital room in search of her brother to find a nine-and-a-half foot tall wolfman wearing the Seventh Division Captain's Haori visiting Momo. It took her a moment to realize who he was, and another as some neurons connected and she squawked indignantly, pointing at him.

"My apologies, Lieutenant Kuchiki, but-" He sighed, ears flattening back against his head with Chargin.

"AIR CONDITIONING?!?!" She bellowed.

Komamura scrunched back, chagrined. For a massive apex predator, he did an excellent Kicked Puppy face.

"Rukia!" Momo protested faintly from her hospital bed. "Keep your voice down, I don't want Toshiro to find out!"

"Find out what?" Hitsugaya grunted, stepping out from behind Rukia.

"Ah, Well-" Komamura started to explain.

Rukia rounded on Hitsugaya, pointing behind her at the captain. "THIS JACKASS HAS BEEN EXTRA NICE TO YOU, ME AND ISANE BECAUSE WE ALL HAVE ICE-TYPE ZANPAKUTO AND CHILL THE AIR AROUND US!"

"...Summer is very uncomfortable when you have a fur coat you can't take off." Komamura winced.

"Uh, duh?" Hitsugaya rolled his eyes, strolling into the room. "I didn't know you were chilling Koetetsu and Kuchiki here as well, but I kinda figured you enjoyed the cold when you stayed at my Bankai training like, five times longer than Gramps ever did."

"My apologies for the deception." Komamura bowed his head.

"It's no big deal." Hitsugaya shrugged, putting a hand up to indicate he wanted help up onto the hospital bed, and Komamura obliged.

"See? I use you being tall too." he smirked.

Komamura sighed fondly as the boy sat down between him and Momo. "Momo makes me chill all her juice too, but she never seems to warm up my tea." he handed her a juice box from the vending machine down the hall, covered in condensation.

"It would explode." Momo grumbled.

"Skill Issue." He shrugged and she affectionately swatted him on the leg. "Anyway, don't dogs cool off through their paws?"

"I'm from a wolf clan, but yes." Komamura cocked his head with curiosity, then alarm when Toshiro casually grabbed his forearm and started tugging his Gauntlets off.

"I don't mind being a human ice pack, especially not when it's nintey-eight freakin' degrees out, but be efficient about it, yeah?" Toshiro grumbled, tossing the gauntlet aside and plopping Komamura's pawlike hand on top of his head.

"...Thank you." Komamura smiled gently, and ruffled his hair a bit.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Hitsugaya shrugged, playing the tough guy even as his ears turned red. "At least you're polite about it! Freakin' Zaraki literally just grabbed me- like, put his whole arm through the office window! and threw me over his shoulders once. Jerk."

"TOSHIRO!" Momo yelped, hand on her face. "You almost made juice come out of my nose!" She half-giggled while Rukia snort-laughed at the mental image.

"Hey Kuchiki!" Hitsugaya growled. "He's got two paws!"

"You can't boss me around! You don't outrank me anymore!" She grinned.

"I have seniority." he teased, and the bed started to shake as Komamura tried not to laugh.

"You really don't need to-" Komamura tried to diffuse the argument. His voice was rock-steady but the wide grin betrayed him.

"You gotta follow my orders though!" Ukitake said cheerfully, appearing in the door. "Hi Lieutenant Hinamori!"

"C-captain!" Rukia yelped, spinning around to Salute. "What are your orders, Sir?

"Shh, nothing's happening. But I did hear you squawking from two floors down, so what's happening?" Ukitake smiled down at her.

"Captain Komamura has APPARENTLY been hanging around me and the other Shinigami with Ice Zanpakuto and using us as Air Conditioners!" Rukia glared up at her commanding officer.

"...Rukia," Ukitake patted her head and smiled gently. "Do you remember where Lieutenant Kaien's desk was?"

"Second door on the left, right next to your office, Sir!" She nodded.

"Right! And where's your desk?" Ukitake asked, leaning in closer to her.

Rukia blinked, confused. "...It's immediately adjacent to your desk in your offi- GOD DAMMIT! NOT YOU TOO?"

"Yep!" Ukitake cheerfully patted her head and then palmed it to turn her around to face Komamura. "Hop to it!"

"Technically, I got the Idea from him, when I saw how he'd rearranged the furniture..." Komamura whispered as he helped her up onto the bed as well and Rukia groaned in defeat, settling next to Komamura where she could sulk at her captain from over the wolfman's broad shoulders.

"Oh, stop pouting!" Ukitake teased, sitting down on the chair beside Momo's bed and leaning back. "It'll be winter soon enough. Actually, Your friend Mr. Yasutora told me about a fascinating wintertime holiday in the Living World-"

[mochinek0]

Senorita (song fic)

Alya and the girls had once again lost sight of Marinette, in the club. She hadn't wanted to come out. They were just hoping not to find her passed out at someone's table.

"There!" shouted Alix, pointing to the dance floor.

"What?" Alya shouted, "Wh-" but she caught sight of her friend dancing.

I love it when you call me Senorita

I wish I could pretend I didn't need ya

But every touch is ooh, la-la-la

Ooh, I should be running

Ooh, you keep me coming for ya

Marinette was dancing with a guy and they were pretty close. Closer than anyone they had seen Mari with and trip into just about everyone.

'That’s not the Mari I know!'

"Guys, how much has she had to drink?" Alya panicked.

"The one shot you made her take." Juleka responded.

Land in Miami

The air was hot from summer rain

Sweat dripping off me

Alya spotted Adrien and grabbed onto his arm.

"We need your help!" she pleaded, "I'm pretty sure Marinette is plastered. She's dancing with some guy and-"

"Jason wouldn’t hurt her." Adrien declared, spotting them.

'Ugh, gonna need eye bleach.'

Before I even knew her name, la-la-la

It felt like ooh, la-la-la

Yeah, no

"How do you know?" Mylene questioned.

He smiled, "Her boyfriend wouldn't hurt her."

"Boyfriend!" they cried out.

Sapphire moonlight

We danced for hours in the sand

Tequila Sunrise

"Oh." he spoke, "You didn't know?"

"No!" they shouted.

"When did she get a boyfriend?" Alix asked, eyeing them dance.

'Didn't expect Mari to be a grinder.'

Her body fit right in my hands, la-la-la

It felt like ooh, la-la-la, yeah

"Two years ago." Adrien sighed, leaving them speechless, "I'll wait until the song is over and then bring her to talk. How's that?"

They just nodded as the song continued to play.

I love it when you call me Senorita

I wish I could pretend I didn't need ya

But every touch is ooh, la-la-la

It's true, la-la-la

Ooh, I should be running

Adrien walked over to the couple. They could see Mari was pissed when she crossed her arms. Adrien pointed at the group. Her boyfriend seemed to find the situation amusing and laughed. Marinette on the other hand, smacked her forehead. All three of the left the dance floor and walked over.

Ooh, you know I love it when you call me Senorita

I wish it wasn't so damn hard to leave ya

But every touch is ooh, la-la-la

It's true, la-la-la

Ooh, I should be running

Ooh, you keep me coming for ya

"Hey, Mari." Rose waved.

"So, uh, you-you have a boyfriend." Alix commented.

"Yeah." Marinette answered.

Alya rapidly glances at Adrien told her all she needed to.

"Why did Adrien know before us?" Alya asked, a bit disappointed.

"Because this goofball is my roommate." Mari sighed.

Adrien shouted, "Hey!"

Marinette simply rolled her eyes.

Locked in the hotel

There's just some things that never change

You say we're just friends

But friends don't know the way you taste, la-la-la

'Cause you know it's been a long time coming

Don't you let me fall, oh

The girls glanced at Marinette's boyfriend to gauge his reaction. He seemed unbothered by the revelation.

"Th-That doesn't bother you?" Mylene asked, "Them living together?"

"Nah." he answered, waving his hand, "Mari's told me plenty of embarassing stuff about him to have him practically be another brother added to the mix." Jason answered.

"You what?" Adrien shrieked, "Why?"

"Revenge." Marinette answered.

"It was one time!" he shouted back.

"It was one time too many!" she shrieked back.

Everyone glanced at the two roommates confused. The girls had never seen them at odds before. To Jason, they just reminded him of his siblings, during a quarrel.

Ooh, when your lips undress me

Hooked on your tongue

Ooh, love, you kiss is deadly

Don't stop

"So, uh….how did you two meet?" asked Rose.

"In Mexico." Jason declared.

"Huh?" Alya replied, confused.

"I had that client two years ago." Mari answered, "I left for a six months trip to Mexico."

"We met in a café by the beach." her boyfriend continued, "They were trying to hustle her. Pixie started yelling at them in full on Spanish. Their faces when they realized she spoke Spanish fluently . They ran around and grabbed her order so fast! It was glorious! I paid for her meal and asked her to sit with me."

"I was in a rush and they were messing around." Marinette growled.

Jason smiled, "I told her to relax for five minutes or she could fall and create a bigger mess. She sat down and ate with me."

"It's not my fault I'm clumsy." she pouted.

I love it when you call me Senorita

I wish I could pretend I didn't need ya

But every touch is ooh, la-la-la

It's true, la-la-la

Ooh, I should be running

"We talked for a bit." Jason spoke, "I saw her there just about every morning. I decided to ask her to grab food with me at a different place."

"We got tacos." Mari smiled.

He sighed, "I still can't believe you eat snails, but you won't eat octopus."

Marinette glared at Adrien, "Yeah. There's a reason for that."

"I'm sorry!" Adrien shouted.

Ooh, you know I love it when you call me Senorita

I wish it wasn't so damn hard to leave ya

But every touch is ooh, la-la-la

It's true, la-la-la (true, la-la)

Ooh, I should be running

Ooh, you keep me coming for you

Jason laughed, "What?" I don't know this story."

Marinette leaned up and kissed his cheek, "I'll tell you later."

"No!" Adrien shouted, "Please don't!"

"You don't understand he would understand you more than I did?" Mari suggested.

Adiren grabbed Jason's hands quickly, "If you really love me like a brother, keep an open mind."

Jason glanced at his girlfriend, who only shook her head. He nodded and got a bright smile in return.

'Oh god; original Jon.'

"Hey, I tried the tacos de lengua." Marinette declared.

"Tacos de what?" Alix questioned.

"Tongue." Mari spoke, "Cow's tongue; it's wasn't bad."

"Eww." the girls replied grossed out.

"Cool!" Alix smiled.

All along I've been coming for ya (for ya)

And I hope it meant something to ya (ooh)

Call my name, I'll be coming for ya

Coming for ya, coming for ya, coming for ya

For ya

For ya (oh, she loves it when I call)

For ya

Ooh, I should be running

Ooh, you keep me coming for ya

"So you met in Mexico and kept meeting when you both came back to Paris?" Juleka questioned.

"Actually, we've been in a long distance relationship." Marinette answered.

"I live in the United States." Jason continued.

Mari smiled, "I didn't expect you to be here."

"I was gonna visit your place tomorrow." he admitted, "You said you were busy with work. Liar."

Mari scoffed, "I was busy. The girls were the ones who dragged me out complaining I'm a work-a-holic."

"See Pix, this is why you fit in." he smiled.

"Fit in?" Mylene asked.

"With what?" Alya pushed.

"My family." Jason explained, "All work-a-holics, except my sisters. Between Tim and you…..i don't know who drinks more coffee."

Marinette giggled, "Well, we'll find out this summer, won't we?"

"Oh, is your family comign to Paris?" Rose asked, smiling, hoping to meet new people.

"I'll be visiting his family." Mari declared, "Jason and his older brother are here in Paris, right now, but his other family are busy. Tomorrow, I'm taking them to meet Maman and Papa. Actually, it's probably best if we leave now. Bakers wake up super early."

Jason sighed. He had been ready to spend all night with Marinette at the club.

"You get super fresh pastry." his girlfriend teased.

"I'm in!" Jason smiled.

"Me too." Adrien exclaimed, inviting himself along.

"Sure, Adrien." the baker's daughter replied.

After the couple had left, the girls turned to Adrien.

"What do you think?" Juleka questioned.

"I've never seen her happier." Adrien smiled.

Some of them shifted uncomfortably, hoping to push the two roommates together.

"Hey, how come we didn’t know you two were roommates?" Alya pushed.

"I'm shocked you didn't, but I guess I'm usually out at the bakery or with Luka." he replied, "Marinette put padding in her room to make it soundproof so her sewing didn't wake me up. I probably came home sometimes while you were there and you didn't even hear me."

Alix smiled chaotically, "So, have you accidentally seen her?"

Adrien sighed, "She forgot to lock the bathroom door twice and her right hook was enough for me to start knocking on doors. I think I was half asleep and knocked on my own door, once."

Alix began to laugh. Rose started to giggle and Juleka just look amused. Alya was still reeling with the fact that her OTP was outdated and seemed to have moved on to a sibling bond instead.

Jason held Marinette's hand as he walked her home, "So, are you gonna tell me about the octopus thing and Adrien?"

She palmed her face and sighed, "I went on a trip with my uncle for two weeks. Adrien had to study for finals and his laptop was broken. I told him he could use mine. I was planning on taking my tablet, anyways."

Her boyfriend nodded, along.

"I came back a day early." Marinette explained, "I booted up my laptop to transferring my sketches I worked on. There-There was just so much….hentai on it. It felt like there was fifty tabs open."

Jason immediately started cracking up with laughter.

"Next thing I know, Adrien walks in. I'm just standing there, pointing at my laptop. He dropped to his knees and started apologizing that he had been stressed and was gonna delete the search history that night, before I got back."

"Oh my god." Jason cried, "You know what, I think I might know someone he might get along with. They both have Daddy issues."

Mari giggled.

"Roy is a single dad." he added.

Mari smiled, "Adrien loves kids."

"Bring him to Gotham and we'll set somehting up." Jason smiled.

"Uh, we should probably stop and see Roy first." she pushed.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'm pretty sure Selena would adopt him on the spot, if they met." she declared, "He's my unofficial brother and he loves my parents but….something tells me they would get along like thieves."

Jason winced, "Roy first. Got it."

[nightsmarish]

Summary: as summer at hogwarts approaches, both you and Regulus build up your walls again, lose sleep, and are warry of saying yes to the offer to go to Potter Manor.

A/n: might write a pt.2? Would we like that? Maybe? Idk, I lost the plot halfway through and u can tell lmao. Also, have not written for this specific ship, so I may not be as good as the queen of this ship

Update!: pt2

Poly!moonwater x gn!reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.6k words

Tw: allusions to toxic family, losing sleep, snippy bc of losing sleep, negative thoughts, anxiety, a nap dude

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆

History of Magic is usually an easy subject. Sit down, take notes, look over the assignment, complete it during dinner or before bed, and you're done.

But today everything but that is happening. You managed to get all the way to sitting down and pulling out your parchment and quill before the words Professor Binns says all mesh together. Nothing makes sense.

And you know it's due to the ache behind your eyes, the pounding in your head and the ache in your bones.

The last few nights you haven't slept, not really at least. It's nearing the end of this year at Hogwarts so everyone is preparing to go home. Planning what they will do with one another over break before the new year starts up. Talking about their family traditions, and a feeling of excitement takes the castle.

Despite this, a feeling of dread has been following you like your own personal rain cloud. The knowledge you'll have to return home eating you alive. Knowing you won't be able to contact Remus or Regulus, less your parents find out you're dating them, making you feel like you're choking on your heart.

The memories you've made this year really should weigh out the weeks you will spend with your family. In the stiff place, you're forced to call home with strict rules and expectations. Yet, you feel horrible. And it's been causing you to force yourself into your studies for the upcoming tests. Avoiding sleep due to nightmares that have recently plagued your mind.

Which leads to now, the room spinning slowly on an axis, ans Professor Binns slightly to blurry, even for a ghost. You know you need to zone back in, drink some water, take a vitamin potion or even visit Madam Pomfrey at this rate. Yet you can't make yourself do it.

Continuing to stay in your zoned out state till the end of class. And that's when even you draw the line.

Standing up from your seat as everyone filters out, albeit a little you're moving a little slower than usual, you exit in search of your boyfriends. Either or both. And it's not exactly a very long search, quickly finding yourself face to face with Regulus Black and Remus Lupin.

"Hey, dove." Remus' voice is sweet, per usual, like the comfort of a spoon full of honey on a sore throat.

Regulus doesn't speak for a full moment, analyzing you. To anyone else it would look judgmental, but the softness in his eyes and slight pull at the edge of his lips tell you differently.

"Hi, Rem." The boys look at one another, an unspoken conversation playing out.

"Why don't we go to my dorm?" Remus looks back to you, "haven't had much time for the three of us. James and Sirius have quidditch, and Peter is going to his study group."

"I'm down." Without another word, the three of you walk towards Gryffindor tower.

ᯓ★

Remus knows that Regulus tends to be a little quieter the closer to the end of the year, having been around the other Black brother for a while now. Already knowing how closed off Sirius would get when he still lived at the Black Manor, building up the walls early to protect himself when he left.

Even now, Sirius does it. Remus isn't sure if it's a habit or the fact that Regulus has been refusing to take the offer to stay at Potter Manor as well.

But you? You, he's not sure. Remus knows you and Regulus have known one another longer than he's known you, and that's never really bothered him. Remus knows all three of you love one another, and he's never felt left out. But know? Know he wishes you'd talk about your own home life.

Regulus doesn't like talking about his experiences at home; the only thing Remus knows is from old stories from Sirius. And Remus will never pry, not wanting to force either of you to do anything you don't want to.

But Merlin, he feels nearly useless right now, wishing to see the tension in your shoulders calm, wishing to see you and Regulus calm again. Wishing Regulus would take the offer to join them at Potter Manor. He wishes for both your safety more than anything.

The walk to the dorm is quite, but not peaceful. Everyone trying to stay calm and wishing someone else would say something. But no one knowing quite what to say to break the silence.

Once you do get up to the dorm, the Gryffindor's dorm, Regulus sets his bag by Remus' nightstand, you following suit, the emblems on your bags a contrast to the surrounding room. Regulus goes to find clothes he's left in Remus' closet before, while you sit on the lycans bed to slip off your shoes. Remus sits next to you, his hand resting on your lower back.

And finally, after far too long, Remus breaks the silence. "Dove..."

You glance up at him as you slip your shoes under the edge of his bed. "Yes?"

Remus sends a quick glance to Regulus, who's slipping on a long black sleeve shirt, one more comfortable than the previous Slytherin uniform. "I understand if you aren't comfortable with it, but..." He pauses for a moment, glancing back to look into your eyes, his thumb rubbing gentle strokes on your spine. "If you want to, you know you're welcome to stay at James' house."

Under his hand, Remus feels you tense, and from his peripheral, Regulus paused to listen.

"That's- that's okay, Remus. But tell James I appreciate the offer, please." You stand up far too fast for your lack of sleep, causing you to fall right back where you were sitting. Alerting both boys.

One of Remus' hands stay glued to your back, the other on your shoulder, as if your keen over. Regulus is quick to stand infront of you.

"Love, you should stay with them." Regulus' voice is full of worry. "It's better than any other option."

"You're not going." Your eyes shoot up to Regulus', far more defensive than you mean to be. Remus' hand, which was previously on your shoulder, moves down to the bed, the other hand continuing to run against your spine again.

"That's doesn't mean you shouldn't go." Regulus matches your defensiveness out of habit.

"You both should come." Remus talks before you can shoot back, hand on the bed finally moving to Regulus' arm, never seeming to catch a break.

There's a heavy pause. One that goes on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"I'll think about it if you do." Your voice is more timid as you hold your stare at Regulus' eyes, his boring right back into you. Intense, deep, and so, so, loving.

Regulus sighs, "fine."

"Thank you, both. Seriously, you should come. James and Sirius want you guys there. Not to mention James' parents, they love new people." Remus kisses your hair line, standing up, hand leaving your back, before kissing Regulus on the lips. Both your bodies lossen.

Remus moves to change out of his uniform, and you quickly stand up to join him. Regulus' hand comes out to make sure you're steady as you grab a pair of sweats that no one truly knows who belongs to. They were probably once James, but at some point Lily stole them, and at a different point Sirius stole them back, and now so many of your friends have worn them at some point, it's probably weird.

Grabbing those and a jumper belonging to Regulus, you turn back to see Remus already curled around Regulus' back, who lays with enough room for you to join them. Both trying not to show just how eager they are for an afternoon nap.

You climb onto Remus' bed as well, using your wand to close the curtains, magically dimming the lights in the room before placing it on the bedside table. Curling into Regulus' front, leg thrown over his hip, you tuck your head into his neck. Yet your eyes remain open.

You definitely want to sleep, and you know you should, Remus is likely already asleep, knowing the bastard sleeps like the dead. Yet the knowing you could have another wretched nightmare makes you stay awake, staring over Regulus' shoulder the the golden brown hair tucked into his back, belonging to Remus, and letting the black hair belonging to Regulus slightly tickle your cheek.

"Go to sleep dove. Both of you. Please, you can't function without it." Remus' voice seems to startle both you and Regulus, both believing he was asleep, and believing the same about one another.

You pull back from Regulus neck, facing him, seeing the features of his face barely visible in the dark room. "We will, baby." Your voice is soft, as if you were telling a secret.

Remus merely hums and shift slightly before relaxing back into Regulus' back.

"Get some sleep, darling." Regulus kisses your cheek, "it's going to be okay in the end."

"I know. I know. We both need sleep; Remus is gonna kill us." Softly connecting your lips with his, slow and lazy, both smiling at the hum from Remus, confirming the empty threat you made for him.

You return to your being tucked into Regulus' neck. "'M sorry for being snappy with you." You mumble against his skin.

"You have nothing to apologies for, I understand where you're coming from darling." His hand rests on your hip and lower back, relaxing further into you and Remus, closer and closer to having a lovely nap. Of which, you join with the hopes of no nightmares.

[alonetimelover]

Hi, was wondering if you could write a dadrry social media au? Could be about anything, just love to see that content ❤️ amazing work btw!

pairing: Harry Styles x famous!reader

summary: just dadrry and his sweet family of five

a/n: a little fic based in the famous!reader universe!

masterlist taglist famous!reader

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates, hArrysbtch and 65 292 others

harryupdates HARRY and his youngest baby were seen hiking in Italy!!

view all 2 029 comments

ynupdates that's certainly a way to hold a baby!

harrysmoustache FATHER IS HERE

stylesbabie you're the real one for putting this emoji on baby's face! i saw others not being so considerate

⤷ harryupdates of course! it's a child and besides the as it was bts neither yn or harry posted their face

harrysmylife here i thought he would stop walking so much after having children. nope! now, he's bringing them with himself!

ynsmymama i saw photos with their oldest baby there as well, yn's having some me time

hArrysbtch y'all here praising him for being a father and here i am staring at his arms. my man got some guns on himself

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, ynupdates and 6 492 392 others

yourinstagram being heavily pregnant during winter >>>>> during the summer

view all 230 201 comments

harrystyles You look flawlessly.

⤷ yourinstagram nothing you say will give back my biscuit

⤷ harrystyles We have two packs in the pantry.

⤷ yourinstagram yeah? but that one had the most raisins i've ever seen on a biscuit. and you ate it.

annetwist As soon as you'll be back in London I am taking kids for a week. I miss them!

⤷ yourinstagram you're the best, mum. can you take your child as well?

⤷ harrystyles Rude.

⤷ annetwist Of course! You need some alone time!

gemmastyles hello, sexy mama. are you single?

⤷ yourinstagram i am for the next twenty minutes. let's make the most of it. gelato?

ynupdates you're glowing

harryupdates what a beautiful family

ynsmymama how do you like the ball exercises? because i hated them during my pregnancy

⤷ yourinstagram hi child! and tbh i don't exercise on that ball. i just roll on it

⤷ ynsmybestie ICON

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YN via IG story

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harryupdates

liked by ynupdates and 34 202 others

harryupdates HARRY was seen walking to the hospital in London! It's the hospital where YN and him went to a few days ago.

view all 2 302 comments

ynupdates ohhhh, this is a fresh dad Harry

hArrysbtch that's the man that for the third time, THIRD TIME became a father

harrysmoustache DILF

ynsmybestie i love how cozy he looks

stylesbabie finally that big ass bag is full of necessary shit

harrysmylife when is he going to start wearing dad clothes? i can't wait to swoon over a man dressing like any father on the planet, because I will

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Harry via his IG story

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harryupdates

liked by hArrysbtch, harrysmoustache and 45 392 others

harryupdates HARRY was at the playdate with both of his and YN's older kids!

view all 3 201 comments

hArrysbtch hot dad at the playdate???

stylesbabie i hope those mums and dads are respectful

harrysmylife i asked for a dad outfit and he delivered

⤷ harrysmoustache definitely! my dad dresses the same

ynupdates he looks good, fatherhood is treating him good

⤷ hArrysbtch i wouldn't expect anything else

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dailymail

liked by user45 and 279 302 others

dailymail Harry Styles and wife, YN YSN, were asked to leave the restaurant after customers and staff were disturbed by YN breastfeeding their newborn. Our source says that after having a conversation, led by YN, the manager of the restaurant didn't change his decision. Harry escorted YN and their child to the car and then came back to have a talk with the management of the restaurant. Apparently, he was visibly furious and on the edge of losing his temper. After a discussion and manager's attempts to apologise, Harry stormed off.

view all 23 201 comments

harryupdates I'm not surprised he was furious! was yn supposed to starve their child?

ynupdates it's 21st century and people are still scared of women breastfeeding

ynsmybestie who was disturbed, men or women?

⤷ stylesbabie the article said it was three men complain

⤷ ynsmybestie I'm sadly not surprised

ynsmymama if they were so bothered by her breastfeeding near others, they could propose her some private room and not throw them out of the restaurant!

⤷ ynsmybestie but they shouldn't have a problem with it. she shouldn't leave restaurant for feeding her child

⤷ ynsmymama of course! but wanting to please all the customers you adjust to the situation. they didn't do thag

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yourinstagram

liked by harrystyles, annetwist, ynupdates, harryupdates and 8 302 302 others

yourinstagram Hello, you little people in my phone! As most of you know (because of Daily Mail) two days ago, my husband, our child, and I were asked to leave the restaurant we ate at, because of causing disturbance to other customers. The said disturbance was me breastfeeding our child. Before our waiter and then the manager talked with us, my husband took a picture (above) (he really takes pictures of everything) showing what was visible while breastfeeding (A BREAST !!). There really was no conversation between two parties. When asked if covering myself with a cloth would be more comfortable, I was just once again asked to leave the restaurant. No person should be forbidden to feed their children in public. I shouldn't have asked if covering myself would be more comfortable with others. No. We shouldn't accept this kind of non written 'rules'. With everything said, I wasn't going to let our child starve and went to feed her in a car, so no stranger eyes could see a breast. In the link in bio you can find a great article about breastfeeding in public and what parents go through to please the strangers being bothered by a flesh of naked skin. Be kind to each other. YN.

view all 349 302 comments

harrystyles You are the best mother our children could have. And the best partner I could find and share the life with.

⤷ yourinstagram I love you.

annetwist ♥️♥️

gemmastyles You tell'em sister

ynupdates I am so mad that you needed to made a statement about it. sick.

harryupdates people are very delicate when it comes to breastfeeding but have no problem with parading without a shirt on

hArrysbtch im just gonna focus on how precious that picture is, and the fact that harry is that type of a father to snap pictures of everything

⤷ yourinstagram he really is, those 256gb are straining and in need of expanding

⤷ harrystyles Not my fault they don't allow SD cards anymore.

⤷ hArrysbtch we love a millennial

harrysmoustache that restaurant is going to flood with negative reviews right now

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harrystyles

liked by yourinstagram, annetwist and 11 291 492 others

harrystyles To the best woman I know, thank you for choosing me to be your partner and father of our beautiful children. There is no moment in the day or night when I don't think about how lucky and fulfilled I feel spending my life with you. Happy birthday, my love. Your, H.

comments to this post have been limited

yourinstagram Come downstairs. There are now words to describe my love.

annetwist Happy birthday, YN. I believe there could be no other person more perfect to be in our lives.

gemmastyles Happy birthday, wifey!!!

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a/n: should i write some blurbs about dadrry?

[rpgchoices]

More on Davrin's past, arc and journal (part 2)

Part one where I wrote down all the banter about Davrin's Dalish past is here!

I wanted to put all codex (I could find) in order, divided by topic! (Also I wanted to say I will post more Davrin stuff on my personal blog @lucrezianoin haha to not fill this one with just Davrin!)

This is divided in:

Davrin's past and his feelings of guilt for the Dalish clan

Weisshaupt being the only home he has

Meeting Assan and the griffons (and naming Assan)

The Warden vs Nature choice for the griffons

Other (stuff on the Gloom Howler etc.)

Davrin's past and Dalish clan

Just a bit more here on Davrin's guilt for leaving his clan and we do get the confirmation that Davrin has not seen Eldrin since his kids days, and contacted him thanks to a chat with Rook.

Also interesting that the way Davrin was treated by Eldrin is very similar to the way Davrin treats Assan at the start. In the quest we also find out Eldrin was quite harsh (making him eat Halla food as a way to learn, which led to hours of hallucinations and sickness, and kicking his butt when he felt Davrin was wrong).

We don't really get that deep into it, but I like that while Davrin firmly believes in "Throw yourself at it, if you don't learn you get hurt" for himself, he squanders that idea pretty easily when it comes to Assan, even going so far as to start wonder if there is a "non fighting" future for Assan.

I will put this codex later on but I also wanted to show it here for Davrin's past, in "The Nature of Griffons" Davrin says: "Talking to Rook about Assan's insticts got me thinking. Can you change something you're born with? Or are we blank slates who can make our own way? Was I born a monster hunter, destined to do this job, or did I have a choice?" which makes me scream because I need to know what happened in his clan.

From the banter and his personal quests we know that Davrin hunted everything, and then started going to Eldrin's during the summers and he learnt to hurt darkness (monsters) and things that threatened the forest. Did he have a drive to hunt that Eldrin needed to re-direct, where were his parents? Were they the ones sending him to Eldrin? And why is it that a talk of nature vs nurture and his Dalish clan makes him think only of Eldrin and not his parents? (We realistically can imagine Davrin's mother is alive, given that during the gym scene Taash insults her and Davrin says "She can take it" when Taash apologize).

Weisshaupt (and the fall of Weisshaupt)

Davrin often talks about Weissaupt with affection and jokingly but the code really expresses that Weissaupt was his only home.

When Davrin leaves to follow Rook we find out that he knows the First Warden would not take him back. He describes the fortress in detail (loved the "libraries of books I'll never read, getting bruised and battered while sparring etc." as some nostalgic positive thing - miserable and exhilarating). And of course "It's the only home I got", which is telling knowing how he feels about his clan never taking him back if he asked.

And then the heartbreaking entry for Weisshaupt fall.

There are a few other entries:

Which also has a bit about Assan: "I have been thinking of Assan as an assignment: something I need to protect until he finishes his training. But we're in this together now, and it's time to lick our wounds and move on. I'm all he's got, and in some ways, he's all I've got."

How Davrin got to work with Griffons and meeting Assan

My favorite entries are about how Davrin got his assignement and how sweet he was on Assan (unknowingly!!) since the start!

We find out it was the First Warden (from Weisshaupt) that sent him to the assignment. I am still unsure how it works for a Warden who is a Monster Hunter, but we know from the entries that Davrin lived at Weisshaupt and considered it his home, so I supposed he was just sent here and there? Like a specialized Warden? He also mentions he was sent as a bodyguard, basically, and he seems both fascinated and a bit skeptical (they poop a lot haha, and he admires Lancit's patience).

And then he meets Assan. "There's one griffon, this little guy." From Endril's words we know Davrin used to be small and scrawny as a kid, so I wonder if he saw himself in Assan. "He's a little slow on the uptake, but he's fast in the air." And so Davrin suggests the name Assan for him. And my favorite part "If I do nothing else in this life, at least I can say I got to name a griffon".

We also have these late entries about the nature of griffons and Davrin's realization that they are not "made" for fighting by nature, but taught so. "Can griffons do anything else? Would they want to? I wonder". Also he is such a dad, writing about Assan's first taste of an apple.

About Assan and the halla, Davrin writes "the instincts of a dog herding sheep", and I personally think it is about learning. There is a moment in the dialogue at the start of Davrin's recruital where we find out that griffons learn better in groups, they clearly are very social animals. I fully believe Assan fed the Halla simply because he saw Davrin doing that, he learnt from watching, he sees Davrin taking care of Halla so he learns that is the thing to do and how it is done.

Then we have some notes on Griffon's extinctions, and a note about Assan's love for gingerwort truffles (which Davrin tried and did not like.. we also find out Davrin hates broccoli... please Davrin... I love broccoli...)

Warden Griffons vs Arlathan Griffons

These are the two different notes:

Interesting the "Warden" choice starts with "Deciding where the griffons should go wasn't easy" which is not present in the Arlathan choice. I do not think there is a right/wrong choice, but after reading this I will always lean more towards Arlathan.

"it's time they got a chance to explore nature instead. The griffons are going to love Arlathan"

Other codex

Interesting that he says he does feel sympathy for Isseya.

[yesimwriting]

pleaseee write smth about that fight between Felix and reader

a/n i've been thinking about this scene for days so when i saw this ask i got so hyped

warnings: reader being AFAB/female is plot relevant (reader's father has always wanted a son), implied emotional/financial parental abuse (not described in too much detail), potentially inaccurate portrayal of early-ish 2000's phones bc i was a toddler during their oxford era, hurt/comfort

we're getting into reader's background!!

itallic texts = from felix, bold texts = from reader

There's a scratch embedded into the dark mahogany. It's small, no wider than something you could make with your finger nail.

"How's your food?"

Your attention shifts towards the ceramic plate that's almost covering the dining table's only blemish. "It's good," you mumble with a slight nod, fork instinctually jabbing at a piece of food without you even looking at it. "Yours?"

"Great," he hums casually, cutting into his steak. "Part of the reason I picked this hotel is because of the restaurant. The visiting chef's a guy that I met in New York when he was looking into financing an international expansion of his franchise."

You bring your utensil to your lips. "That's cool, daddy."

The comment only strengthens the question that's been silently ebbing at your mind since your father first suggested lunch. Why did he order room service instead of taking you to the hotel's restaurant? Your dad has always loved the ambiance, the leisure of sitting in a nice restaurant.

"Is that why you're in town?" You reach for your glass, taking a sip of your drink before continuing. "To finalize something with the chef?"

He sets down his knife. "That and a few other business arrangements that needed to be checked on." He pauses, shoulders relaxing. "And to see you, too, Ace. It feels like it's been awhile since we talked."

Your lips quirk into what's almost a smile. When your father called to let you know that he'd be staying near Oxford for work and that he wanted you to visit, you had been apprehensive at first. Your mother was cautiously supportive of the idea.

Things with your father have been relatively stable recently. He liked the way no university seemed off limits to you with your grades and extracurriculars. He loved the idea of a daughter studying abroad at Oxford (which, is part of the reason you seriously considered Princeton for some time). And he's been drinking less. Part of that whole reborn, second marriage to a late-20-something methodist thing.

"Yeah, dad," you agree, as sincerely as you can manage, "It's been awhile."

"You know I'm friends with one of your deans." He doesn't give you a chance to reply. "We had coffee together, and he told me you're on track to finish in the top 10%." Rumors about the top percentages had been circling around Oxford for the past month. Still, it's relieving to know. "Congratulations, Ace."

This time, your smile meets your eyes. "Thanks."

He smiles, a flash of something practiced and charming. "When I get home, the first thing I'm doing is picking out a gift to send to you."

"If you need time, you can always wait and give it to me over the summer."

The infamous summer. Your mother is going to be spending most of the summer volunteering for an organization that brings counseling to children that have survived traumatic experiences but can't affording therapy. Your father suggested that you stay with him for a little while so that you wouldn't have to spend an entire two months in an empty house.

He stretches an arm like he wants to pick up his fork, but decides against it. "I--I want to tell you something." His tone is softer now, almost hesitant. "But you have to promise not to cry."

You try to swallow around the lump in your throat, body familiar with the command. "Okay?"

"I don't know if this summer's going to work out the way we talked about." He taps his fingers against the surface of the table. Your eyes lock on the scratch marring the wood. "Things have gotten complicated."

"Complicated?"

Your father sighs. "I'm sure you've noticed Christine's not here." You can't bring yourself to react at the mention of your step-mother's name. "She isn't in--she isn't in the best condition to travel." The tapping continues. "Christine's pregnant. She's due in early June, and she isn't having an easy time. I think it'd be best to not do anything that could potentially be stressful."

Oh.

"It's a boy."

Oh. A boy. With his perfect wife, in his perfect penthouse on the Upper East Side. Of course. Of fucking course.

You can't breathe right or thing of the way you're supposed to react. All you can do is stare at the scratch. At the only thing that indicates that anything bad has ever happened to the table.

"You promised you wouldn't cry." The words feel far. "You look too much like your mother when you cry."

That seems to force you back to earth. Any and all reminders of your mother must be eradicated in his presence. "I know. I'm not going to cry." You blink once, hand moving to wipe away tears you refuse to let spill. "Congratulations."

He's quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, before finally settling on a perfunctory, "Thank you." After a beat of silence, he continues, "Were you planning on staying tonight? I was thinking of flying back early, but I can--"

"Oh, no," you shake your head once, "I actually have a lot of homework, so it's probably better for me to get back."

Your father nods, "Always the academic, Ace." He pushes his seat back. "If you're done eating, I can walk you to the lobby and have my driver take you back."

"Yeah," you push back your own seat and stand, "Sounds good."

The two of you reach the front doors of the suite. "Hey," your father starts, "Why don't you travel this summer? That's all I did during college breaks. I'll pay so you can do it up right. You should go somewhere with a friend. Paris, maybe. You two always had fun as kids."

You nod once, trying to keep your expression neutral. "Yeah, daddy, I'll ask Paris about what she's doing this summer."

"Good." He pauses at the door, reaching into the pocket of his slacks. He pulls out his wallet and counts out a few bills. "Here. A pre-gift." You hesitate. "C'mon, top 10%."

Your mother's voice rings in your ears. He won't change, you might as well take the money. You stretch out a hand, forcing a smile as you take the cash. "Thanks."

----

Stupid. You're so fucking stupid.

You really thought you'd be there all weekend. You really thought Christine would let you into her home for longer than a day or two.

And the pregnancy thing? That--that's going to get back to your mom in one way or another if you don't tell her. And hearing that, hearing that your dad's finally getting his son is going to kill her.

It's all you've been thinking about since you got back yesterday afternoon. After mumbling a halfhearted explanation to your roommate, you changed into some pajama shorts and a giant T-shirt that you only realized was Felix's after the fact and crawled into bed. You've moved as little as possible since.

Something near the foot of your bed buzzes, snapping you back to the present. You flip the phone open, immediately noticing three text notifications. From Felix.

hope ur weekend's going better than mine

lovie

i feel abandoned

Despite your angst, you smile to yourself before sending a response: it's been one day.

After a minute, there's another text on your screen: so it's a crime to miss u. You roll your eyes, fondness pooling in your stomach. how are u doing.

The second question, though sincere, forces you to spiral. You want to be honest. You don't lie to Felix and he doesn't lie to you.

But, everything comes with exceptions, and making sure no one finds out how tense things actually are with your dad is yours. Before you two got close, it felt too private, and once you finally did, a few comments from Felix's friends made you feel like the worst thing you could do for your friendship was let him see any kind of darkness.

It's not that he'd judge you, he'd just want to help you so badly that it'd take over everything else. Farleigh's made it clear that Felix loves a charity case. And you don't want to be that. You won't let your dad take that from you, either.

You want to say that you're fine, maybe text a comment about things being a little awkward because it's no secret that your mom took care of you after the divorce. But lying about being on campus feels like something that could easily morph into something else.

Felix, who actually has enough of a social life to pull sleazy moves like that never has. i'm sick. came home early.

ur back!

why didn't u tell me

i'm sick, can't hang out

are u ok

do u need anything

Guilt prods at you. You've been texting him on and off since yesterday and never mentioned that you came back early. Felix is always so good to you. But, you're in no place to see him. no just need rest

You shut your phone. You're not sure that saying you're sick is enough to keep Felix away all weekend, but it could be enough to keep him away tonight. It's Saturday night. He'll have plans.

And tomorrow, you'll feel better. More stable.

"I have some time before I'm supposed to go to Jake's. I stole some bread from the dining hall." Nadia's offer is gentle. "Do you want to go feed the ducks?"

You wipe at your face. "That's a really nice offer, Nadia, but I'm feeling a little sick. Maybe when you get back?"

She frowns. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah," you mumble, "I just need some sleep."

"You've been sleeping on and off since yesterday afternoon." Nadia hesitates, eyes darting towards the bathroom. She does need to start getting ready for her date. "Maybe you can call Felix later? It's Saturday night, you know there's some terribly exclusive, not meant for any of us ordinaries party he's dying to take you to."

The attempt at humor is enough to get you to roll onto your side. "Since when do you like Felix?"

To be fair, Nadia's never disliked Felix. Before you became friends with him, she had a bit of a crush on him in that way that all freshmen girls at Oxford do. After you started hanging out with him all the time, that crush turned into an awareness that fueled her worry. She's always implied her concern that he'd eventually hurt you.

"I've never not liked him," she mumbles, "I was just scared he'd break your heart, but, the last couple of times he's come over...something about the way he looks at you."

"So you finally accepted we're just friends?"

She walks towards the bathroom, "Didn't say that."

You roll your eyes, letting yourself rest on your back. You shut your eyes, trying to force out any thoughts of the outside world as you drift off.

The familiar creek of the hinges of your room's door pulls you back to reality slowly.

"Took you long enough." Nadia's voice. "All she does is sleep and mope. She didn't even want to go feed the ducks today."

"She loves feeding the ducks." Another familiar, much more moving voice. You manage to move, wiping at your eyes as you sit up.

"I know!"

You finally sit up, blinking your eyes as your vision adjusts. Felix. He's standing in near the foot of your bed. "Felix--I-I told you I'm fine. Just a little sick."

"Nadia called and told me the opposite."

You turn your head to glare at you roommate, who doesn't even have the decency to look ashamed. "You stole my phone and called him?"

"I had to," she defends. "All you do is sleep and cry, and you've been like this since you came back yesterday."

Felix's expression drops as soon as the final word comes out. Your eyes widen, head shaking as subtly as possible as if a too late warning will erase the sentence from existence.

"Wait," his voice is softer than you've ever heard it, "You've been back since yesterday and you didn't tell me?"

You swallow, unable to look away from Felix.

"I--I have to go." Nadia's announcement breaks through the stiff silence. "I'll be back sometime tomorrow, so um..." She turns away, swinging an overnight bag over her shoulder before disappearing out the door. You can't blame her for running out as soon as possible.

"Felix," your voice is low, gravely, "Darling."

"Don't." His eyebrows pinch together, sadness tinging his expression. It doesn't fit him. "Why--why wouldn't you tell me you were here?"

You sit up a little straighter, wiping at your eyes with the back of your palm. "I told you I'm sick. I'm not up for anything right now."

Felix is still watching you with that kicked puppy look. "That doesn't--" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "You know I don't care if you don't want to do anything. We can--we can just sit or-or talk, or read or--do nothing." Felix presses his lips together, "I thought you knew that."

You know he's right, and that makes it harder to look at him. Felix would have been a sweetheart about it. He would have let you mope, cry even, and he would've spent the entire time holding you. It should have been easy to tell Felix, instinctual...and yet...

Your eyes briefly shut. "I do." The admission's painful to get out. Some of your hesitation was over the way Felix reacts to tragedy, but the rest is something more personal. Telling Felix would have solidified it. Would have made that label of 'abandoned child' that you've always been so wary about permanent. "It's more than that."

"Then what is it?"

Sighing, you push yourself to the edge of your bed. "My head hurts, I need a Tylenol."

Your words and movements are drowsy as you push yourself to stand. Felix takes a partial step forward before forcing himself to freeze into place. It's hard not to help you.

"Then what is it?"

You push open the bathroom door. "I don't--I don't know." It's a weak attempt at dismissing the conversation before things go to a place that you can't handle right now. "I couldn't get the words out." Still can't.

You find the pill bottle you were looking for on the bathroom counter and start working at twisting off the childproof cap. "We tell each other everything eventually." His voice is dry, almost hesitant. "At least, I do. We trust each other."

Your eyes shut as you sigh, fingers briefly releasing the top of the bottle. "Maybe that's not trust. Maybe that's your life being so perfect there's nothing you need to keep secret."

The words come out in a rush, angry and sharp. Regret floods through you instantly. "I'm sorry."

"No." The syllable is hard. "No. You're not. Don't do that. Don't--don't start saying what you think I need to hear--or keeping in what you think I don't." There's a concerned anger there, an unfitting combination that you don't have the energy to decode. "What could be so bad you can't tell me? We know about Ollie's parents and that didn't change anything, did it?"

Actually, things did change a little. Oliver's broken home life seemed to only make Felix want to pull Oliver into his world even more. You hate thinking it, because it's insensitive and a little mean, but of course Oliver was willing to give Felix all the gritty details.

After the initial implications came out, Felix devoured them with the same silver spoon that was placed in his mouth at birth. In a way, Felix's desire to fix and ease pain brought them closer together. And it probably means more to Oliver coming from Felix than anyone else.

But your relationship with Felix is different. You don't want sadness and coddling to be what makes you feel certain in your bond with Felix. You want things to stay the same. You don't want to give your dad anyway to change one of the most important connections in your life.

"You have a big heart, Felix, and I love that about you." Your hand reaches for the Tylenol again. "But I don't want you helping me to become all that I am to you. I don't want to be a charity case." You squeeze your eyes shut, cringing at your wording. "And--and I'm not trying to say that Ollie's just a charity case, it's that--some stuff Farleigh's said and--" Tears are pricking the edge of your vision.

"You're more than that," he scoffs the words out like it's ridiculous he even has to say that, "Of course you're more than that, I thought you knew." He scoffs. "I--I don't just wait around for people."

You scoff, the sound almost a bitter laugh. "Oh--so now it's not about trust, it's about your ego. That I don't just sit around next to my phone, waiting for the Felix Catton to call me."

Felix takes a step forward, "It's not about that!" You raise your eyebrows, uncertainty leaving you frozen. Felix has never yelled at you before. "...It's not about that," he repeats, voice a more acceptable volume. He takes another step forward, his fingers finding your forearm. "You know how I meant it."

There's a tension in the way he's touching your arm. It's nothing harsh, if anything it's almost too soft. Hesitant. He's watching you with an intensity that pins you into place more than his actual hold.

You wouldn't be surprised by his anger, you're not even sure you'd be able to blame him for it, but that's not what you see when you look at him. You can't exactly read the look behind his eyes, but something about it reminds you of Nadia's earlier comment.

It's heavy. Too heavy for you to think about tonight. That's how Felix is. He's intense. All consuming. When all you do is blink at him, he lets go of your arm.

"Felix."

His eyes dart towards the ground, body angling itself away from you.

It's subtle, and not a direct dismissal, but after everything that's already happened, it's enough to serve as a final nail hammered into your chest. "I don't want things to change between us." You sigh, finally getting the pill bottle's lid to pop off. "Because I'm fine."

You force a smile, but there's a tightness to your features that makes it feel like a grimace. "It's not a big deal. So my dad asked me not to come home this summer, because his wife's pregnant and he doesn't want to 'stress her out'. I'm fine." You can feel the tears welling in your eyes. "Y'know it's a b-oy." Your voice cracks on the last word, a laugh or maybe a sob interrupting the single syllable. "So um...good for him, he's finally getting his son."

Felix is watching you cautiously, expression not quite sympathetic, but not relaxed either. "Oh my god, I have to tell my mom. And it--it's going to kill her." You gasp the words like the realization's just hit you, even though it's been on your mind since the beginning. "I don't know why I said that like I'm surprised--because I--" You laugh, the sound shrill and uneasy, "But it's whatever. I'm fine."

You nod once, as if that'll be enough to make you feel fine. Another sound comes out, this one a lot closer to a whimper. "I'm fine. I don't know why I'm being so dramatic. I'm fine. I'm--" You squeeze your arms around your waist, supporting yourself the way Felix usually would.

You're crying openly now, tears blinding you. This is pathetic. You need to get it together.

You're pulled forward with no warning, your body hitting something solid and warm. Felix.

His arms around you, firm and supportive. It's surprising enough to force a full breath of air into your lungs. For a moment, all there is Felix. You inhale again, and again, doing your best to hold the air in your lungs.

Felix's hand smooths circles against your back. He whispers soothing words that you can barely make out. Between that and the even rhythm of his heart, you manage to ground yourself.

"You don't have to be nice to me right now," you mumble into his shirt. "I was really mean to you."

He continues to trace patterns against your spine. "We don't have to talk about that right now."

"I know," you whisper, "I just--I don't want you to feel like you can't be mad at me."

He gently smooths your hair away from your face. "Can I be mad from right here?"

"Yeah." You sniffle once, letting your chin press into his chest so that you can look up at him. "If you want to."

"Then okay," he mumbles, knuckles running up and down the length of your spine, "I'll be mad from right here."

----

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey @ilovehyperfixating @aryiannarae @willowpains @ker0senebunny

[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.

[g1rld1ary]

I feel like you’d eat up this idea so much but Camp Counselor James Potter!!

Where its semi frenemies to lovers after James unexpectedly becomes head camp counselor alongside reader, thus forcing them closer as they have to work together. I’d imagine James as a sports/swim instructor who the campers adore and reader as an arts and crafts teacher who James has liked for years since they met at camp (even before they became counselors.)

summer friends - camp counselor!james potter x camp counselor!reader

wc: 2816

cw: swearing, implied fem!r but i don't think any pronouns, alcohol, throwing up (once)

part TWO

first of all thank u so much for the compliment anon i hope i am doing it justice!! i actually love this idea and so there's gonna be more parts because i have so many fun lil camp ideas already HOWEVER we don't rlly have summer camps where I'm from so if u wanna see anything specific (activity/trope etc) please request!!! love u xoxo

It was stinking hot already. The clock in your car was broken so you weren't sure exactly what time it was, but you were sure it was too early to have sweat dripping from your brow. Nine, maybe. Still, nothing could bring down your present mood, not the sweat, not the early morning on a weekend, not even that your Fleetwood Mac CD kept skipping during The Chain. No, you were in the best mood you'd been in in a while and nothing could ruin it.

You were headed back to camp. Your camp. It was your first year as head counselor at the camp you'd grown up in and you were filled to the brim with excitement and drive to make this summer as magical as the ones you had growing up. Pulling into the dirt parking space you sighed contently, glad to be back where you belonged.

It was weird to see the camp almost empty. You'd been a general counselor before so you'd seen the camp without kids, but being one of the first there in the morning was peaceful. You waved cheerfully at one of the cooks who'd been working since you were a kid, laughing as he tried to return the gesture over the boxes he was hustling into the kitchen.

You broke into a jog to catch up with the camp director who you needed to meet with, smiling widely when he greeted you. You made small talk as he led you around the camp, giving directions to some of the staff setting up in between his extended spiel explaining your duties. You really were trying to listen but you couldn't help your eyes darting to each movement in the corner of your vision. The other head counselor should have been here already, and it wasn't like him to be late. Michael was one of the many kids you'd grown up with through summers, and he was just as devoted to camp as you were, so it wasn't surprising he also made head counselor, but it was surprising that he was now late.

"Where's Michael?" You asked when the director took a breath. He turned to look at you, one eyebrow raised slightly.

"Didn't we tell you? Michael had a health scare, he can't work this summer." You could feel your mouth hanging open. The two of you had been talking about this for years, dreaming of becoming the head counselors.

"So who's—"

"Nothing like the fresh air, is there?" Your shoulders tensed just by the timbre of it, you could recognise that voice anywhere.

"Potter," You turned to greet him, ponytail swinging behind you.

"No need for last names, love, I saw your braces phase," James retorts and you huff, rolling your eyes dramatically.

"Yeah, yeah, and I've got pictures of your acne. So you're really my partner this summer?" James didn't bother replying, his cocky grin saying it all. You felt the director's eyes on both of you and refrained from another snip in fear of it undermining your leadership, but still shot James a dead-eyed smile to let him know you weren't done.

You were dismissed to settle in until the other counselors arrived for briefing after a few other business matters (for which both you and James stayed civil and responsible) and all but ran to your car, eager to get the moving in part over with as quick as possible.

After so many years of making camp your home away from home, you'd pretty much nailed the routine of packing and unpacking, and your part of the four-girl cabin was taking shape very nicely if you did say so yourself. You even had time to stick up the photos you'd printed out, which usually took at least a week to happen. You were just wiping the sweat off your face with the hem of your t-shirt when someone cleared their throat. You didn't need to guess who it was.

James was leaning against the doorframe, looking unfairly unperturbed by the heat.

"Sorry your dream boy couldn't be here," He said and you couldn't quite tell if he was joking.

"Michael and I—"

"Relax, I was talking about your real boyfriend, remember?" You paused at his statement, studying your painted fingers intently.

"We broke up," You said quietly, not daring to look at James in fear of him teasing you about it. You consequently missed the flash of curiosity (and maybe relief) that passed across his features.

"Sorry," He said awkwardly, still under the doorframe.

"It's fine. He's a dickhead."

"I could have told you that last summer!" He laughed, then slapped a hand over his mouth as he realised it might have been too far. You managed a small laugh yourself, if only to make him feel better about his misstep.

"Yeah, yeah. Last summer you also thought swallowing gum would fuse your insides together."

"And I stand by that! You should just learn to listen to me," He crowed, eyes sparkling with mischief. You rolled your eyes again, pushing yourself off the bed to reapply your deodorant.

"If I ever start listening to you, take it as a sign I'm losing my marbles," You said, ducking under the arm James had stretched across the doorframe, "Now come on, everyone'll be arriving." You don't stop to see if he's following, marching out of your cabin and toward the dining hall where the counselors would convene. James watched you go for a moment with a soft grin before jogging to catch up and bother you some more.

The dining hall was already buzzing with energy and noise and the campers hadn’t even arrived yet. You smiled as you watched the counselors meet and mingle, some of them being kids you’d grown up with almost your whole life.

“Everything the light touches is our kingdom,” James’ whisper appeared from behind you.

“You are so lame.” You don’t bother looking at him, convinced you knew exactly what face he’d be pulling. “Now make yourself useful and greet everyone.” You might have been a little rude, but it was clear to you that this job wasn’t nearly as important to James as it was to you. Head counselor was something you’d been working towards since you’d started at camp, and you would like to keep the gig through college if James didn’t ruin it for you.

A booming noise silenced the room, and you were surprised to know it came from James. He started off the address for you outlining all the boring housekeeping notices you could recite in your sleep. They were almost exactly the same every year, except for James’ insistence on being the funniest in the room and making jokes after every other statement.

“As you know if you find any contraband in the camper’s belongings report it to the camp director, especially if it’s an illicit substance, as there may be serious discipline. However, if it’s alcohol, slip into into my cabin ‘coz god knows I’ll need a drink after dealing with the kids and this one.” He gestured over to you, receiving a ripple of laughter throughout the room. You grit your teeth, trying not to react and be the bad cop of camp.

“Just so we’re all clear,” You faked a laugh, “None of the campers or counselors will be ingesting or posessing alcohol while at camp. Right guys?” You locked eyes with the camp director, trying to bring him down from the conniption he was on the verge of. It worked, mostly, and you took over from James, shooting him a warning glare as you rushed to finish listing off the timetable for the coming evening and next day as campers arrived.

In his defence though, James wasn’t exactly wrong. Although the camp director could never ever find out for the sake of all your jobs, there was definitely a stash of alcohol that all the counselors contributed to and had access to, though strictly when there was no risk of campers or higher ups finding out. Like tonight. Every year before the campers arrived the counselors held a campfire right out in the forest; far enough away that there was almost no risk of the adult-adults finding them, but close enough that drunk walks back to the cabin weren’t quite impossible.

That brought you to the campfire. You’d been stuck in meetings and doing last minute admin all night and you really needed the break. You could only look at schedules and spreadsheets for so long anyway, add James to the mix and you were going absolutely crazy.

You’d snagged a spot next to Lily, hugging her tight as you reunited.

“I can’t believe you’re stuck with Potter,” She said, taking a sip from some ungodly drink one of the counselors had mixed. You laughed as you pulled away and greeted Remus quickly, taking the can of cider he offered.

“I’m just thanking my lucky stars it wasn’t him three years ago.” You shook your head resolutely, “At least now I’m sure he’s human. I just hate that he’s gonna make me bad cop all summer.” Remus cocked his head in confusion and Lily asked for clarification so you continued.

“You know, James is always the funny one, James is always the chill one. I’m the one who’s gonna have to spoil the fun and enforce the rules.”

“That’s not true though, you might be the one sticking to the rules but you’ve been here just as long. Everyone knows and loves you, and you’ll have just as much fun even if you aren’t quite as go-with-the-flow,” Lily said, a comforting hand resting on your arm.

“Prongs might surprise you,” Remus said, clearly taking a different approach, “I think when it matters he’ll step up to the plate.” You looked at him for a moment, considering his philosophy. You chanced a glance over at James to see him halfway through a game of beer pong — losing badly in fact, and sighed. If he, the head sport and swim counselor, was losing at a game consisting of throwing then he must’ve already been smashed.

He caught your eye at just the wrong (or right) moment and waved you over with such excitement that you excused yourself from the conversation to see what he wanted.

“Sirius needs a teammate,” He said simply, gesturing for you to go over and play. You shook you head furiously.

“So you’re asking the arts and crafts leader? I have zero coordination.”

“Yeah, and? You’re competitive and that’s all that matters. Consider it our head counselor bonding time.” You looked at James for a moment, weighing out the pros and cons in your head. You figured it couldn’t be that bad even if you embarrassed yourself, and you really didn’t want the other counselors to think you had a stick up your arse after getting the position. So, you reciprocated the high five Sirius had offered and got in position.

The game went shit, as could have been assumed. You really didn’t have an ounce of coordination, your throws missing most of the cups. Sirius was better, making your team at least not totally hopeless, but the two of you were no match for the machines that were James and Marlene — though both significantly worsened by their inebriated states. You were providing the trash talk though, which seemed to keep everyone entertained

“Ok new game!” James clapped after you’d downed the last drink, “Sirius, switch with me.”

“What! But I like my partner!” You high-fived Sirius again at his declaration, now sufficiently buzzed from the shitty beer you’d been using.

“Yeah, we’re doing just fine, Potter. Worry about yourself.” It came out a bit louder and more aggressive than you intended, but James didn’t seem to mind — none of you were sober enough to be picking up on the intricacies of human communication. James mimed a stab to his heart dramatically.

“You kill me,” He groaned, leaning on the folding table in despair. You laughed loudly, holding up your hand in the shape of an L to rub it in. After rubbing it in for a moment you conceded, stomping your way to his side of the table, patting Marlene on the shoulder as you swapped places.

“Alright, Potter, let’s get this round over with so I can kick your arse again.” James’ grin was practically blinding as he brightened up, getting ready to play another match. You might’ve been getting a little too competitive, but it was camp and you were drunk, so everyone around the table was matching your energy tenfold.

“Are you actually capable of getting a ball in a cup? You’re genuinely so terrible at this,” James laughed as he said it but you took it personally, shoving him aside.

“Piss off, dickhead. Just because you’re a big shot athlete or whatever.” You must have finally struck a nerve in James as he was quiet for the rest of the game, still much more skilled than you but his energy significantly dampened. Even when you won, he only offered you a weak smile and a pathetic high five. You felt bad for a moment and opened your mouth to apologise, but your inebriated brain was distracted by music playing, running over to Lily to ask her to dance.

You were at the stage of being drunk where everything was perfect. The day’s heat had mellowed out into a dreamy summer night, a soft breeze rustling the leaves above you all as you danced and drank, reuniting after a long year apart.

You might’ve overdone it slightly though, which found you a little ways away from the rest of the party, emptying your stomach into a bush where hopefully none of the campers would stumble across it. Looking past your unfortunate accident you caught a glimpse of a dark shape on the bank of the river. Narrowing your eyes you tried to make out who it was, but settled on getting closer instead. You hesitated when you made it out to be James.

“Hey, Potter. You alright?” You called awkwardly, a little unwilling to get too close.

“Hm?” He looked back at you, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Yeah, fine.” You sighed. He was clearly upset about something and you couldn’t just end the conversation there, no matter how much you didn’t want to have a DnM with James Potter on night one of camp.

Reluctantly you got closer, taking a seat next to him. You watched the lake for a few minutes, black except for the silver from the moon. It was peaceful when there weren’t so many people around, it was one of your favourite things about camp, just being outside and disconnected from the rest of your life.

James broke the silence first.

“Do you… Are you mad that I’m co-head counselor?” You chanced a glance at him, surprised at the vulnerability in his voice. James wasn’t usually one to get sappy or personal like that, especially not with you.

“No?” You replied, “It wasn’t what I imagined, obviously, but it’s not like I hate you. You’re just mildly infuriating like 80% of the time.” James snorted, and you got the feeling he’d intended to wallow a bit longer. But James was James and he couldn’t stay moody for too long, it wasn’t in his nature.

“I can work with that.” He smiled his blinding grin, and you could have sworn you could see it reflecting off the water.

“We have to be a team though,” You affirmed; now was as good a time as any for you to address it. “I know that your whole bright and lively class clown thing is effortless for you, but I don’t wanna be the bad cop all the time, okay?” James was deep in thought for a second, then a cheeky grin crept onto his features.

“You think I’m bright and lively?”

“Shut up.” You rolled your eyes, but you weren’t sure you weren’t returning his smile. “Come on, let’s get to bed. Neither of us can afford to be hungover when the kids get here.”

You and James wandered back towards the cabins, both hazy and giggly from the lasting drunkenness and the (at least temporary) smoothing over of your tenuous relationship.

PART TWO