#but i just never cared enough to tie my shoes
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I don't ever tie my shoes, I don't have the energy to, but he promised he'd tie my shoes for me and I've never felt so cared about.
#mine#obviously I dont expect him to always tie my shoes i wear slides the majority of the time#but i just never cared enough to tie my shoes#i know how#i just dont care#and him caring just makes my heart flutter#gay#queer#yearning#nblm yearning#nblm#mlnb#long distance#mlm#nblm thoughts#he doesnt want me falling cause im an idiot#đš
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Okay, a couple weeks ago I asked if people were legit bending over to tie their shoes every morning and I think I've figured out the problem in my mental framework
Image ID: a sneaker, with the ends of the laces fished back through the part of the lacing that goes through the hole in the shoes, instead of being tied in any kind of way. End ID.
So at the time my work shoes had broken and I was wearing slides temporarily, but generally I either do that â or knot my shoes at the very end of the laces because if I try to tie them in the normal fashion, the standard laces will be too tight while boot laces are still way too long.
I also have to buy double extra wide shoes in an above average size, hence the standard laces not being long enough to both lace and tie
So yeah, when you do that â you don't have to bend over and tie the shoes, and since the shoes are only barely loose enough to be comfortable, they aren't gonna fall off.
So I guess... People with normal sized feet... don't do this? Weird.
#i was still so caught off guard#i so expected the joke to be 'who needs elastic shoelaces? i never tie my shoes and ive only broken my nose eight times' or smth#the times i broke my nose tripping down stairs i had buckle shoes#... probably they had a zip on the inside?#i told my mom the next eyar when we were shoe shopping 'lets do that again. im clumsy enough without adding shoeslaces to the mix'#if i got shoes custom made i think they'd be a whole shoes size shorter in length and at least this wide or a bit wider#ive had these shoes for 3.5 days i just only took care of the laces now lol#because there was so little if them i legit didn't even realize i was stepping on them
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Alastor X Reader - Dressing Up As Him
"Hum hum hum~âŤ" Alastor was walking around the hotel lobby, humming a tune to himself as his eyes scanned all of the inhabitants at the hotel. Charlie and Vaggie were putting up more banners and decor in the lobby, Nifty was sweeping, and Husk and Angel Dust were at the bar. Alastor kept looking around to spot you, but he had no luck. Heading over to the bar, he leaned over the counter, smiling his signature grin. "Ah, Husker my good friend! Having a good day?" Alastor said, as he gazed at the grumpy cat, wiping a glass with a towel. "F*** off." said Husk, as he glared at Alastor, not wanting to deal with him. "Hey smiles~ Looking sexy as always." said Angel Dust, as he leaned back slightly on the bar stool, winking at Alastor. "Please refrain from flirting with me Angel.â Alastor said, extending his mic towards Angel, trying to move him away. "Ah your no fun." said Angel as he pushed Alastor's mic away from, and crossed his arms, placing them on the bar stand. "Anywho! Have any of you seen y/n? I didn't happen to see them in the lobby." Husk just shrugged his shoulders, as he didn't really know where you were, but he also answered quickly as he just wanted Alastor to leave. Angel dust was nice enough to answer as he told Alastor that he had heard you, rummaging around your room along with music playing in the background. He was gonna bother you, wondering what was happening, but he decided not to, and left you alone. "Thank you Angel! I will go find them now!â said Alastor as he walked away from the bar, missing the wave from Angel and the middle-finger from Husk.
Heading towards your room, Alastor was hoping that you were alright. Before, Alastor didn't really care much about you when he first met you as he though of you as another simpleton staying at the hotel, but after talking and hanging out with you a few times, he slowly started to care about you as he found you to be a rather sweet soul that wasn't common to see in Hell, with the exception of Charlie. Of course, he would hide that from the others as he had a reputation to uphold as being "the radio demon", so the less the people knew he had a kind heart, the better. Arriving at your door, Alastor knocked a significant beat, calling out your name, hoping for an answer. He could hear what sounded like electric swing playing in your room, but no response from you. He wanted to barge in, but he thought that would be rude so he continued to knock until you answered.
Standing in front of the mirror, you were eyeing yourself to make sure everything was set in place, and your outfit was fitted perfectly to yourself. You were wearing a striped red coat on top of a red dress shirt with a black bow tie that matched with the dress pants and black shoes, along with the outfit, you had on a red wig with a deer ear headband on top of it. Yes, you were wearing Alastors exact outfit. You really loved Alastors look, and you actually wanted to cosplay as him, but you would never tell Alastor that, as you didn't want to weird him out if he had caught you wearing his outfit, thinking you were some type of creep. You did remember that Alastor was very close to the overlord, Rosie, who owned the big emporium, so you had confided with her if she could help with your cosplay idea. Rosie was very surprised, but found your efforts cute and she actually was able to connect you with the tailor that designed a lot of Alastors clothing. It took a while, but you were able to get the whole outfit from the tailor, and you couldn't be more excited and happy to try it out. You had everything fitted to a T, but the only thing missing was the microphone, but you could think of an idea for that later. Staring at your reflection, you stretched your mouth into a wide smile, trying to match Alastor. The smile looked great, but holding that smile all day was going to be very difficult as your cheeks started to ache. Sighing, you turned away from the mirror and headed towards the radio to turn the music down. As the music died down, the thumping beat from the door, alerted your prescence: "Yes, who is it?", you called out. "Hello, Its me, darling. Are you well? I noticed you were not with the others in the lobby, so I decided to pay you a visit!â Oh No! Alastor was here, in front of your room. You couldn't bear for him to see you, wearing his outfit. "Um, I'm okay. Just tiding a bit, don't worry." You lied, as you were hoping Al would head back to the lobby. "Ah, I see! Well you wouldn't mind if I come inside, do you? I would very much like to have a nice chat.", Alastor said, as he continued to stand at the door on the other side. Oh Satan, he was not planning on leaving. Panicking, you run towards the door, unlocking it, to signify to Al it was open, before running towards your bathroom, closing the door.
Entering inside Y/N room, Al looked around your room, but didn't spot you anywhere. "Darling? Where are you?," Alastor called out, as he made his way further into your room, standing with his hands behind his back. "I'm in the bathroom, Al. Just washing up a bit. You can sit on the bed and we can chat from here." He had heard you call out. Arching his eyebrow, Alastor found it a bit strange, but he didn't question anything further, and made his way over to the bed, and sat down. As he gazed around the room, Alastor happened to spot something on the floor. As he gazed closer, he recognized it was a bow tie that was similar to his. Reaching out and picking it up, he eyed it and questioned to himself why this was in your room. "Darling?" "Yes, Al?," you said behind the door. "I found a bow tie that is similar to mine in your room. Do you know why this is here?"
Panicking, you looked down and saw that the bow tie was no longer on your shirt. "Sh**!", you whispered to yourself, as you tried to come up with another lie to tell Alastor. "M-maybe you left it here by accident." you said, mad at yourself that you stuttered. "I would happen to remember losing something like this the last time I visited you." Alastor said, as he kept eyeing the bow tie, turning it around to eye it. You stood on the other side of the door, realizing that he didn't buy it. "T-hen umm-", you froze, stuck on what to say next. Alastor noticed your change in tone, getting up from the couch and making his way towards the bathroom door. "Darling~, is there something you are not telling me perhaps?", Alastor said, smirking to himself, as he stood in front of the bathroom door. "N-no.", you said, as you heard voice more clearly now. "Then why do I sense such nervousness in your voice?", he said, as he continued to stand in front of the door, inching closer to hear you. "I-I." Stuttering, you couldn't think of another thing to say as Alastor figured out you were acting odd. "Darling~, What are you hiding? Come on out.," Al sang behind the door, as his smile got wider, enjoying the situation you were in. "OKAY! ok. I'll come out, but could you back away from the door a bit and also close your eyes please?", you said, letting Al know you were ready to come out. Al raised an eyebrow that you wanted him to close his eyes, but he said nothing, as he walk backwards, and shut his eyes.
Opening the door, you saw Alastor standing in the middle of your room, hands folded behind his back, eyes shut, and his signature grin on his face. Standing a few feet from him, you told him to open his eyes, while you cast your eyes down to the ground. Alastor opened his eyes, and he was put back for a second as he saw you dressed to the nines in what look to be his clothes. Everything you were wearing was matching him, and the only thing that was missing was his mic staff and the bow tie, that he was holding in his hand. Looking up, you noticed Al's face was stunned, but he was still smiling. "Before you say anything, just know that I'm wearing this for cosplay reasons. I'm not a freak and these were custom-made for me, they are not from your room, I swear." you blabbed all of this out, twiddling with your fingers, and looking back down towards the floor. Silence filled the room, after you were done talking. You were afraid to look back at Al, as you were expecting to see radio dials in his eyes.
"HAHAHAHAHA! My my, how dapper you look, darling!â Alastor laughed out, along with his mic that started playing a laugh track. Looking back at him, you weren't expecting a reaction like this from him. "Y-your not upset?" you questioned Al, as you continued to twiddle your fingers. "Upset? Why no, darling! Is that why you were hiding from me? Cause you figured I would be upset?" said Alastor, as he tilted his head at you. "Well, I didn't want to disturb you if you saw me wearing your outfit." "Well, I must admit I was surprised, but I am not upset. But I do have to ask, why are you dressed up like me?", he said, as he approached you, red glowing eyes staring at you, and his award winning smile on his face. Sighing, you explained to Alastor that you really enjoyed his look and outfit, so you wanted to cosplay as him. Alastor smiled softly at you, and hooked his finger under your chin, raising your head to look at him. "You are quite adorable aren't you, my dear." he said, as he then let your chin go, and began tying the bow tie back onto you, finishing it quickly and taking a step back. "There we go, dear! All set! Now we just need a smile! Come on dear, smile!" Alastor said, as he leaned closer towards your face, smiling wide. Blushing, you looked away for a second before giving Al a smile as big as his. "Perfect! I must say you make a good me!â Alastor said, as he placed his hand on your head, giving it a rub. "Thanks Al." you said, as you blushed and looked down again. "Now, since you want to be like me, we could engage in some carnage in the city! Imagine, the radio demon and his doppelgänger causing mayhem to the denizens of the Pride ring! Quite a premise!" said Alastor, extending his hand out like he was giving a performance in a play. "Um, sorry, but no thanks. I know we are in hell and all, but I'm still not use to all the violence and carnage yet." You said, as you looked at Alastor shyly. "Aw, don't be such a wet blanket , my dear." Alastor said, as he looked at you again, still smiling, but his ears were dropped down, signifying that he was a little sad. "Sorry , Alastor. Maybe we could do something else instead, like head to a cafe or go to one of Mimzy's shows?", you said. "Hmmm. Fair enough." Alastor said, as his ears perked up after he heard you say that. Hooking your arm in his, he pulled you next to him, as he raised his fingers up, ready to use his powers to teleport: "Lets go, my dear! I feel like this is going to be very entertaining!â
#hazbin hotel fanfic#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel angel dust#hazbin hotel husk#hazbin hotel charlie#hazbin hotel vaggie#hazbin hotel mimzy#hazbin hotel rosie#rosie#mimzy#hazbin mimzy#the radio demon#alastor x reader#alastor#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor the radio demon x reader#hazbin hotel 2024#fluff x reader#fluff#pride ring#happy hotel#fanfiction#radio demon#radio demon x reader
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take care of you | spencer reid x reader
Sometimes, Spencer needs you to take care of him.
wc: 3k, rating: explicit/18+
tags/warnings: submissive!spencer, s2/glasses spencer, pegging, face sitting, face riding, cunnilingus (fem!reader)
a/n: couldn't stop thinking about spencer in glasses getting absolutely wrecked. i love him so much!!!! (you can also find this fic on ao3!)
You can tell how much Spencer needs this. Heâs been stressed out from work â sure, his job is always kind of stressful, but he looks so exhausted that you feel it in your bones.
Spencerâs never been good at asking for help, either. But the sluggish way heâs been moving around lately, his eyebags somehow even darker than usual, even Penelope texting you after a rough case to take care of Spencer: they all tell you that Spencer needs you more than ever.
âHi, my love,â you greet from the couch when he opens the door.Â
Spencer jumps slightly, perhaps not expecting you to be home when heâd gotten to the apartment. He relaxes quickly enough, his tight-set features easing up as he sees you. He smiles, kicking off his shoes, and is quick to let you wrap your arms around him. He melts into your grasp.Â
âHey,â Spencer says in a soft voice, but he hugs you so tight you feel a little breathless. âI missed you.â
âI missed you too, love,â you hum into his neck, nose ticklish from how his hair is growing out, curling beautifully at the nape of his neck. âRough day?â
âThatâs an understatement,â Spencer sighs. âGod, I needed this.â
While youâve been dating for more than a year, Spencer being happy to touch you always makes you feel proud â it reminds you that youâre special to Spencer, that Spencer trusts you.Â
âI know, sweetheart,â you say softly, your hand petting his soft hair. âDo you wantâ Do you need me to take care of you tonight? To shut your brain off for a little bit?â
Spencerâs sharp intake of breath is loud in the otherwise silent apartment. He pulls away, wet, brown eyes looking into yours. âYouâ Really? How did youââ
âI guessed you needed it,â you say, reaching to hold his hands in yours. âDo you need that?â
âYes, please.â Spencerâs voice is practically a whisper.Â
âCome on, love,â you smile, tugging him into the bedroom.
You take care of him like this: taking off his tie, undoing the buttons of his shirt, kissing him as you undo his belt and push his slacks off. Spencer is laid on the bed for you, only in his underwear, laid out bare for you.
Spencer looks so cute wearing his glasses, and you tell him that when he moves to take them off. He blinks at you. âDo you want me to keep them on?â
âYeah,â you say, grinning. âMakes you look extra fuckable.â
He rolls his eyes playfully, smiling, but Spencerâs mouth falls open in a gasp as your hand reaches for his cock, touching him through his briefs. His cock jumps at your touch.Â
You sigh contentedly. âYouâre so pretty like this, Spence.â
He whimpers, lower lip pulled between his teeth. âYouâre too nice to me.â
âI just want to take care of you, love.â You hum, meeting Spencerâs eyes as you slip your hand down the waistband of his underwear, wrapping your hand around him.Â
âOhââ He moans at the contact, hips instinctively bucking up into your touch. âMmm, please.â
âWant me to fuck you, baby?âÂ
Spencer nods, but you can tell heâs still on edge, attempting to give up control. Heâs never been too good at that.
You lean forward to kiss him. He moans, kissing you back quickly enough, desperate and hungry. He needs you, wants you, and the attention makes you preen.
Youâve pushed Spencerâs underwear down by now, unabashedly stroking his fully-hard cock. Heâs leaking all over your hand now, so the slide of your hand on him is easy. His moans against your lips turn you on to no end, getting him off while heâs like this almost feels like your duty.Â
âCome on, baby,â you murmur as you pull away. Youâre met with a whine from Spencer, like heâs too far gone to realise you plan to give him more, instead of just taking his pleasure away from him.Â
This is good. His colleagues have always joked that Spencerâs IQ drops when heâs around a pretty girl. Maybe youâll be able to stop his overthinking mind tonight.
âOh, donât pout, darling,â you coo, finding it amusing how Spencer is basically throwing a fit over how youâve stopped kissing him, stopped touching him. âI thought you wanted me to fuck you.â
Spencerâs face is red in an instant, like heâs shocked at the sudden brazenness of it all. He pulls his lips into a thin line, sheepish, but he nods. You smile and say, âThen let me get ready for you, darling.â
He finally lets you go, but his eyes are wide and wet as he looks up at you, as you stare down at him. He looks like he wants to ask you something, but canât find the words. âTell me what you want, Spence.â
âI wantâ Can I touch myself? Whileâ While you get ready?â Heâs tripping over his words, and you feel like screaming into your hands just because heâs so cute.Â
âYes, darling. Donât make yourself cum just yet, though,â you hum. âWanna see you cumming on my cock.â
Spencer lets out a whimper, nodding as he wraps his hand around himself in an instant. Heâs desperate, needy, and you feel so crazy about him that you feel the adrenaline in your veins as you get your harness out. Your hands shake as you attach your pink, sparkly dildo to your harness, as you take your clothes off (Spencer stares at you, making you feel so desired), strapping your harness on tight.Â
In your bra with a dildo strapped to yourself, you sit between Spencerâs legs, spreading for you as he lays back on the bed you share. Lube is squeezed into your fingers, you warm it up between your thumb and index. You notice the way Spencer isnât fully out of it yet, not in the way you want him to be.
So, leaning forward, you take Spencerâs cock between your lips, enveloping him in wet heat inch by inch. You watch his face morph with pleasure, perfectly ruined by your mouth. He always gets like this when your mouth is on him, loses his mind a little, loses the words to verbalise his pleasure. (And he always has the words.)
Spencer lets out an open-mouthed gasp, delicate and needy. His large hand comes up to his face, pushing his glasses up like he needs to get a better look at you. Spencer is desperate, eager, hips stuttering up into your mouth. You push his hips down with a firm hand. He moans.
You take the lead as you suck him off, acting more of a distraction as you rub your fingers over his hole, slick with lube as you get him to ease up. Spencerâs always been stubborn, but when you have him like this, he gives in rather easily.Â
âFuck, please, please,â Spencerâs begging now, and youâre so turned on you feel your head spin, your heart pounding in your chest. You slip a finger in, giving Spencer the pleasure he needs, and he moans so sweetly you feel like you need to fuck him right now.Â
Now that heâs a little less on edge, you pull off of him, focusing on fingering Spencer. You work him open rather meticulously, coaxing him open slowly. When Spencerâs in a headspace like this he gets needy and a little helpless, letting you take the lead (and not helping much). He whimpers and gasps as you fuck one finger into him, then two, hitting that sweet spot inside of him as you get him to relax. His cock twitches with every stroke of your fingers, leaking pathetically all over his soft stomach.
âFeels good, darling?â you hum.
Spencer moans. âYes, so good. Iâ So good.â
âSo pretty for me, Spence,â you sigh, smiling up at him. You slip a third finger into him and he cries out so pathetically you feel like youâre losing your mind. âYou sound so pretty too.â
âFuck,â Spencer gasps, as your fingers work inside of him. His face is pushed into the pillow underneath him, his glasses sitting awkwardly from the angle. Heâs wiggling his toes, writhing, and you can tell that he wants more. He tries to say something else, but it comes out garbled.Â
You pull your fingers out, and when Spencer whines from the loss, you coo, âOkayâ Okay, darling. Iâm going to fuck you, okay?â
You press a kiss to the soft skin of his inner thigh, and when you look up at Spencer, he smiles so wide. You want to kiss him. You pucker your lips at him obnoxiously, and he giggles.Â
Getting on your knees between his legs, you slick up your strap with more lube. Spencer is sickeningly adorable as he watches you stroke the dildo, a perversion of the way it usually goes. Spencer looks enthralled, as if you stroking yourself is doing something for him, even if it doesnât do anything for you. You smirk at him, and his cheeks flush.
You wrap your hand around Spencerâs cock and stroke his cock with whateverâs left on your hand. The extra slick slide aided by the lube makes Spencer jolt and buck his hips, your hand feeling particularly amazing on him.Â
âCome on, baby,â you coo, as you press the blunt head of your strap to Spencerâs hole. âYouâre gonna take me in so well, arenât you, Spence?â
Spencer is all gangly limbs, but heâs so desperate that he feels so small underneath you. His cock is leaking, and his flush has moved from his face all the way down to his chest, which rises and falls as he breathes hard. His gorgeous, lovely eyes donât leave your frame. No matter what, he looks at you like you hung the stars.
âI will,â Spencer says softly, adoration in his tone. Heâs holding his breath, cheeks flushed, eyes wide as he looks up at you. You smile at him, before you press your strap into him. His mouth falls open and his eyes flutter shut, gasping as he feels you inside of him.
You press into him so slow, taking your time, your head spinning with how pretty Spencer looks under you. While you always enjoy the sight of Spencer on top of you, heâs gorgeous like this too. Spencerâs always a little timid, submissive for sure. You find it cute. Sometimes, taking care of him like this just makes sense.
You watch as Spencer swallows you up greedily, the length of your strap disappearing inside of him. He shudders as you press your hand down on his lower abdomen, the softness of his stomach grounding you as you start to piston your hips. âIs that good, darling? Feels good?â
He nods hastily with a whimper. The bottoms of his glasses have fogged up, with the gentle sheen of sweat on Spencerâs skin and how warm his face must be by now. Heâs sinfully innocent, and you resist the urge to bite him.Â
Instead, you wrap your hand around his cock. He moans loudly, eagerly. You curse, your own arousal heightening even with the lack of physical touch. You keep thrusting into him, getting off on the way Spencer squirms and whines. âYou sound so pretty like this, Spence.â
âPlease,â Spencer groans, his voice coming out whiny and broken. âIâm so close, I wannaââ
âAlready?â You feign your disappointment, even though you canât blame Spencer for being needy in the slightest, especially since youâve made it so easy for him to let himself go tonight. âIâve barely had my fun with you, baby.â
He gasps, hurried and desperate: âIâ Iâll make it up to you. Promise.â
To be fair, you werenât planning on denying Spencer of an orgasm, but youâre more than happy to take Spencer up on that offer.
You grin. âCum for me then, Spence.â
You watch his features scrunch up with pleasure as his orgasm hits him, his load splattering all over his stomach, dribbling down your knuckles as you stroke him through it. Itâs adorable, the way his hips stutter, the way his mouth falls open in little, incoherent gasps as he orgasms.
You feel like you could admire him like this forever, the softness of his frame and features, the gentleness as he catches his breath. Heâs gorgeous, and you canât take your eyes off of him. Spencer smiles once he catches your eye, sheepish at your intense gaze and the attention youâve given him.Â
Sitting up, Spencerâs hands reach for your waist, fumbling to undo your harness. Itâs adorable, and you rest your hand on his to get his attention. He looks up at you, hair messy, eyes wide. You kiss him softly, slowly, Spencer reaching up to cup your cheek as he kisses you back sweetly.Â
You feel the harness loosening around your hips on the left side of your body, and it makes you pull away with a grin. âMultitasking, I see.â
âI want to make it up to you, my love,â Spencer says quietly, earnest. âIâm just in a hurry to get to it.â
You laugh, kissing the corner of his grin once more before you let him get back to undoing your harness. You take your panties off, tossed aside to be dealt with later, and Spencer dips his fingers between your legs. You feel his long digits swipe at the wetness thatâs gathered there already. âYouâre so perfect.â
âHow do you want me, darling?â you hum, moaning softly as his fingers start to rub at your clit.Â
âLike this.â Spencer lays back, pulling you forward by your thighs, until your body is hovering over his neck, just enough where you can meet Spencerâs eyes.Â
âOh,â you say. âYou- Youâre sure?â
âIâm positive. I want you to sit on my face,â Spencer says simply, and you feel like melting. Sure, youâve been together a long time, but you canât help but feel a little self-conscious, being close to Spencer like this. Will you be too heavy? What if you suffocate him, or worse, crush his neck? He can clearly tell youâre overthinking it, because he adds, âCome on. Please?â
âThis is one hell of a way of making it up to me,â you laugh.Â
Spencerâs completely serious about it, though, as he furrows his brows. âI mean it. Youâre not going to hurt me. Itâs statistically improbable that youâd break my neck or something. Youâll feel good, and I will too. Iâll be careful if youâre worried.â
âOkay,â you say softly, feeling slightly more comforted by Spencerâs words. He presses a kiss to your thigh, smiling up at you.
Spencer pulls you closer, urging you to sit down. You donât put your full weight down on him at first, but the way he pulls you down onto him startles you, so you canât even attempt to control how hard you sit on his face. He moans when youâre seated, as you feel his lips between your legs, his nose nudging at your clit. His glasses are askew on his face but itâs too late for Spencer to take them off, and it doesnât look like he cares to, either.
Spencerâs a god at giving head â Lord knows where he learned that from â but itâs even better when heâs needy. The best orgasms youâve had were after Spencer was particularly worked up, extra needy over you, and dove between your legs like his life depended on it.
Today is somehow even better.
Maybe heâs made pliant by the way you fucked him earlier, but it feels so right, the way Spencer coaxes your hips forward. With his glasses digging into your thighs and his arms hooked around your legs, Spencer pulls you towards him, letting you ride his face to get you off. Itâs like he needs to make you cum, like he canât carry on if he didnât.
Thereâs an added desperation you feel, deep-seated in your bones, wanting Spencer to pleasure you like you did with him. Itâs never been transactional with Spencer, both of you naturally wanting to please â but Spencer is so sweet and kind with you, and youâre turned on to no end because of him.Â
You feel his tongue lap at you, over your leaking hole, over your swollen clit. You feel so loved, so taken care of, just like you took care of Spencer. You only see the rims of his glasses, his brows furrowed and his eyes presumably squeezed shut as he eats you out, but God, you adore him.Â
âPlease, Spence,â you moan. You feel like you canât explain it, but you ramble, âFeels so good, youâreâ Youâre so good for me, baby.â
He moans, pulling you closer to him like he canât get enough of you. Youâre afraid he wonât be able to breathe, but heâs doing just fine burying his head between your legs, giving you everything you need. He pleasures you like he needs it too.Â
Everything is just right, his eagerness to make you orgasm, coupled with the way your head is spinning from his lovely submissiveness from earlier. Spencer is perfect, and you think you should do this more often.
You rock your hips forward, letting his hands guide you through the motions. Heâs got a one-track mind, only focused on your pleasure, and youâre shaking with your orgasm before you even know it. You cry out as your orgasm wracks through your whole body, your thighs clamping down on Spencerâs face. His own moans are muffled between your legs, which push you further over the edge. You ride out your orgasm just like that, with Spencer whimpering as you use him.Â
You put Spencer out of his misery when your hips slow to a stop, pulling back as you roll onto the mattress next to him. He looks like heâs in bliss, like he couldâve died happy between your legs. He turns to look at you, the lower half of his face wet with slick, his glasses sitting skewed on his nose. He swoons, âYouâre the love of my life.â
You laugh, swatting at his chest playfully. âI know, darling.â
You lean over to rest your head on him contentedly. Unfortunately, despite how satisfied (and admittedly tired) you are from tonight, Spencer seems to have other ideas.
âYouâre hard again,â you note, eyebrow raised curiously.
Spencer smiles sheepishly. âCouldnât help myself.â
âLet me take care of you, then.â With your hand skirting down his stomach, you press your lips to his, with his sticky chin and all.
âHappily,â Spencer grins.
#spencer reid smut#spencerreidenjoyer writes#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x fem reader#criminal minds fanfiction
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đđđđđđđđ: mcd garroth, gene, laurance, travis
đđđđ:Â fluff? literal hurt/comfort
đđ:Â mentions of injuries but no in-depth descriptions
đ/đ: me when i spend more time finding the pictures for a good picture header than actually writing. i also did not proofread at all so i'm so sorry for any typos or hiccups in my writing
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the fight has long since been over, yet after searching every corner of the village, you still saw no sign of the head guard. as your last resort, you hurriedly rush across the ruined plaza, climbing over rubble as you descend into the village mines.Â
you find him there, tucked back in the main tunnel and slumped over as he holds a cloth over a gash on his side. his gloved hand fumbles with some medic supplies, though his shaky hold renders himself useless as they tumble to the floor.
âgarroth,â you sigh, relieved but also annoyed by his insistence on never asking for help.
he flinches, caught off guard by the blood loss dulling his senses. even now, he stoically has every layer of his armor on except for his chest plate, even his helmet stays firmly against his skull.
âiâll be alright, my lady,â he starts, though the pained wince he lets out a moment later immediately discounts him for his claims.Â
quietly, you approach him, kneeling in front of him and pulling the first aid items out of his grasp. while you canât see his face, you hear him inhale sharply to protest against you. you silence him with a stern glare, to which he sinks back into the uncomfortable stone without a word.Â
âyou are much too stubborn,â you chastise, reaching to his other hand to remove it from his wound. âyour pride will get you killed.â
you cringe as he peels away the blood-soaked cloth to reveal a deep gash along his side. it's a slash and not a stab, thankfully, but it would still need stitches.
it seems he already knew that, based on the thread and needle he had yet to even tie together. while maneuvering the stitching thread into the eye of the needle, you listen to his shallow and shaky breathing underneath his helm.
âarenât you having trouble breathing with that?â
ââŚno.â
your eyes dart up, narrowing at the eye slits of the metal in front of you.Â
âit's just me. i understand you want to hide your identity, but when it comes to your healthââ
you lift your hands up to his helm, firmly placing them on each side before pausing, waiting to hear for any protests. when you hear none, you slowly lift the metal, sliding it off of his head and revealing what was underneath.
for just a moment you freeze, eyes locking onto his. his hair was a stunning sandy blonde that brushed over his brow line in soft curls. they stuck to his forehead, that had a sheen of sweat over it. you could tell his stunning eye color was dulled over by pain, eyelids drooping and his lips pale.
ââŚthere,â you set the helm down, focusing back on his wound. ânow you can breathe better, right?â
ââŚyes.â he winces, leaning back on your command and revealing his wound again.
carefully, you stitch the wound closed, lifting his linen shirt up enough to allow yourself to wrap the bandaging around his stomach. when youâre done you sit back, wiping your hands against your already dirtied clothes and releasing a deep sigh.
you look up, watching as his jaw clenches and his eyes dart to your feet. he still looks pale, but he at least looks more stable than before.
âgarroth.â you call, voice barely above a whisper.
his eyes trail up to yours, hesitant and full of a strange sort of guilt.
âyou did a good job protecting me. protecting the whole village. but even the strongest need help,â you take his hand in yours. âat least let one person take care of you in return. i was really worried about you.â
he doesnât say anything, but you know he understands, swallowing down his deep-set need for independence to put himself in your shoes for a moment.
âthereâs a cot down here. why donât you rest, and iâll bring you back some food and drink to help you regain your strength.â
đđđđ
you knew something was strange, when the beginnings of the evening cricket chirps grew silent, a heavy feeling settling around your cottage. despite the uneasiness and natural instinct that told you to run, you instead looked around the area for the source.
despite the lack of night critters, you notice a strange fluttering of butterflies dispersing from the other side of some shrubbery. you push through the leaves and twigs, noticing the further you advanced the more wilted the plants became.Â
on the other side was a man in strange armor you hadnât seen before. the metal mustâve been smoldering hot, somehow, because the grass around it wilted and burned away from its touch. despite the strange sense of uneasiness in your chest, you take a few steps towards the man, his form slumped over a large stump.
âsir? are you alright?â
he flinches, hand moving unnaturally quick towards a large sword you didnât realize he had by his side until now. you stumble back with a startled gasp, hands raising in surrender. dark circles line deep blue eyes, black hair stuck on his face where blood poured from a wound.
âiâm not an enemy!â you quickly say. âthat injury looks bad, i can help. iâll go get some bandages for you.â
you quickly run back to your cottage, retrieving your satchel of medical supplies before he could say a word. whoever he was, he seemed dangerous. and the faster you help him the quicker heâll be on his way and the less likely anything else dangerous is led to you. when you return, heâs still there, though heâs propped himself up in a sitting position and leaning back against the stump.
âi donât need any help.â
âwell those wounds look pretty deep. and⌠youâre the one who ended up near my home, so,â you carefully approach him, heart beating erratically fast in your chest. it felt like you were approaching a predatorâa wild animal pretending to be a man. âthe faster i help you, the less likely whatever did this to you comes near my garden.â
his gaze stayed trained on you for a moment, piercing into you as you kneel next to him. his eyes were a beautiful shade, yet so strangely unsettling and dull. as you glance at them, it almost appears as no light shines from them at all. he smirks, a strangely amused laugh leaving his lips like he found your assistance to be completely entertaining.
âah, thereâs the motive.â
you ignore him, instead using a cloth to wipe away the blood from the side of his head.
âwhatâs your name?â
âwhatâs yours?â
you restrain a sigh, biting back the sarcastic quip you wanted to return and instead reciting your name back to him.
ââŚgene.â
ânice to meet you⌠gene. how did you get this hurt? are youâŚâ you glance down at his strange armor and sword. âa guard, our some kind of soldierâŚ?â
he says nothing.
âalright, then,â you clear your throat. âno more questions.â
you finish cleaning his head and neck, where another wound was, and carefully place the healing ointment you made from your own magicks herbs. trying to ignore the strange sense that you needed to run away, you finish up your work by placing bandages over the gashes⌠that seemed to already be healing pretty quickly.Â
âthere. youâre set.â
a small, âthanks,â leaves his lips, and the two of you met eyes. he seems to contemplate something, before another huffing out another amused laugh.
âyouâre veryâŚnaive. you should be careful.â
ââŚwhat?â
his hand is suddenly in front of your face, cold fingers touching against the skin of your forehead and dragging down, brushing your eyelids closed. somehow your eyes grow impossibly heavy, your head too much to hold up as you slump over, landing in the arms of geâŚ
âŚofâŚwho again?
the birds chirp the next morning as you groggily wake from what felt like a coma of slumber. you feel like there was something important you needed to take care of, but you mustâve fallen asleep early last night. you mustâve been exhausted⌠you donât even remember carrying yourself into bed.Â
oh, thatâs right! you had to help⌠you had to⌠what was it you were up to last night?
your slump from where you sit, blinking at the floor in confusion.
it must not have been too important.
đđđđđđđđ
itâs terrifying, looking into blood red eyes where iridescent pale blue ones had been before. it had only been a split momentâyou two were ambushed, a thiefâs sword grazing against your cheek and knocking you backwards in surprise as a whole gang of them emerged from the tree line.
laurance suffered an arrow wound, but before you could panic it wasnât his blood that soaked the ground⌠but instead the whole dozen of men who tried to attack you.
you stare horrified as dark red drips from him, unsure if it was his own or from the bodies around him. heâs breathing, so heavily, face turned away from you as he stills in the center of his carnage. a few moments pass like this, your eyes trained cautiously on the dulled shade of caramel hair that lays messily on his head.Â
ââŚlaurance?â you call out quietly, your voice barely a timid whisper.
he turns to look at you, eyes red and glazed over as he begins to trudge towards you. something about the dark circles and his paled skin splattered with blood frightened you, your uncertainty heightened by his silence and now much taller frame. he towers over you, breaths heavy and sword still tightly gripped in his hand.
âitâs me!â you shakily yelp, regretting your reaction immediately when he flinches, eyes widening.
ââŚand iâm me.â he frowns, his larger hand brushing against your injured cheek. âyouâre scared of me.â
ââŚno.â
he stares at you, eyebrows pinched together. he doesnât call you out on your bluff with words, but the look he gives you is enough.
âi felt that something was off. i shouldâve done something sooner.â
âit caught me off guard, too. weâre both tired, soââ
âiâm supposed to protect you. now youâre hurt.â
âitâs only a graze, laurance.â you silence his anger towards himself, your hands reaching up to cup his cheeks. âyouâre hurt more than me.â
you reach in your satchel, pulling out some healing ointment and bandages you were sure to pack for the journey. he begins to shake his head, hand engulfing yours as he stops you.
âiâll heal on my own. you know that shadow knightsââ
âthis will help you heal faster. and help with the pain.â
he sighs, taking a seat on a nearby rock and complying with your insistence despite the lack of need for it.
there were only a few gashes that were deep enough to not be sealed up immediately, dark red blood oozing from the lacerations. you put your focus on cleaning each one, swiping on the ointment and wrapping the bandages carefully onto his wounds.
when you look back up at his face those calm blue eyes have returned, staring back at you as they dart over your face. he takes the ointment from your hands, and with two fingers he motions for you to come closer.
you do so without much hesitation, allowing his finger to dip into the ointment and dab it across your injured cheek. he lingers his hand there for only a few moments longer, before looking away and putting your things back into your satchel.
âthank you, laurance.â
âstay right next to me,â he looks back up, tone and eyes insistent. âfor the rest of the way. okay?â
itâs more of a demand than a request, but you simply nod in agreement, unable to refuse him.
âokay.â
đđđđđđ
âtake your shirt off.â you sigh, sitting next to travis as you dig through your bag.
âwoah!â he laughs, a cheeky smirk stretching across his face. âway to be direct.â
you pause, glaring over at him with an unimpressed stare.
âi will add to those injuries. just do itââ
âokay! okay!â he raises his hands up, wincing at the pull of his skin against his wounds. âowâŚâ
he begins to peel his bloodied tunic from his skin, wincing as he attempts to lift it over his shoulders. you restrain another sigh before you take a glance down at his injuries, instead feeling pitiful at the state he was in. standing in front of him, you help him slide the fabric over his head and off his arms, leaving his whole torso exposed.Â
a few previous scars litter across the skin, dipping into different divots of chiseled muscles. he was well builtâhe had to be for the large claymore he wieldedâyet he was still lean, muscles standing out due to the low body fat he had.
âlike what you see?â he smirks, catching your gaze that lingered a bit too long on his bare skin.Â
âno.â
he flinches at your quick refusal, jutting out his bottom lip.
âouch, youâre so harsh.â
âwhy would i like seeing all of these wounds youâre covered in? youâre lucky it wasnât any worse or you wouldnât even be conscious right now,â you scold. âwhat were you thinking?â
âso you were worried about meâŚâ he peeks up at you through his lashes, lips once again turning up in a satisfied smirk.
you roll your eyes, not saying anything as you begin to clean up his wounds. you can never catch a break with this guy, can you? despite his annoying flirtatious jokes, though, you really couldnât help the worry and care you felt for him.Â
he hisses between clenched teeth as you accidentally press against a laceration too harshly, one of his hands reaching up to clasp against your wrist.
âa little more gentle, sweetheart.â
âsorry,â you mutter, shaking your head as you realize what you were thinking.
he doesnât say anything, instead going quiet as you continue to patch him up. itâs not until youâre dabbing on ointment and healing potions that he speaks up again, his voice strangely soft and unsure.
âyou were worried about me, right?â
you pause, glancing down at him. his eyes are strangely⌠pleading, cool green shining as he searches for an answer on your face.Â
you gently place your hand on the back of his head, running your fingers through the soft white strands and pulling him forward and pressing a kiss against his forehead.
âyes, i was. donât be so reckless next time.â
when you pull away, his cheeks have turned a soft shade of red and his eyes have widened, practically bulging from their sockets. slowly, his jaw opens, mouth gaping as he starts to speak.
âyouââ
âshut up.â
Šstarhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.
#aphmau#aphmau mcd#mcd x reader#aphmau minecraft diaries#minecraft diaries#mcd laurance#laurance x reader#laurance zvahl x reader#mcd laurance x reader#mcd garroth#garroth ro'meave#garroth x reader#garroth ro'meave x reader#minecraft diaries garroth#mcd garroth x reader#mcd gene#gene x reader#mcd gene x reader#mcd travis#travis valkrum#travis valkrum x reader
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( ⥠)â đđđđđđđ as . . . đŚđđ˘đ đđđŚđđđđđđ .á â boy you're such a dream to me â ęˇęŚ ot7 đđâđ đđ ⢠headcanons & established relationship fluff ৲ đđ đđŤđ¤đ˘đŠđ° ă
¤ ⥠ă
¤
đ . . via's entry ⍠ilysm plz enjoy my first thingy, 2239wc | fem reader .
⌠. . ě´íŹěš ďź
bf!heeseung who does aegyo for you and only you! heâd make sure no one else was in close proximity and then go âheedeungie!!â before cringing, and shutting his eyes closed, only reopening them to see your pretty smile.
bf!heeseung who always knows what you want, even if uâve just glanced at a cute plushie at the store for one second best bet heâll buy you every plushie from that brand, becoz ur his prince(ss) ofc
bf!heeseung whoâd write little romantic ballads for you and call you randomly throughout the day (even during sleep hours!) so that you can hear his melodic voice sing the most shakespearean lyrics about his love for u đĽ°
bf!heeseung who is like a bf and a therapist all in one! literally send as many voice messages ranting abt ur life as u can to him becoz he will listen to all of them and then respond with a voice message 10x longer
bf!heeseung who gets a bit impatient⌠likes listening to u talk but did u know that if u go longer than 42.32 seconds without kissing him he will eventually just stare at your lips and mumble random words while u rant every now and then; it gets you all hot and flustered when you realize where his attention actually is. soon enough, you just go âjust kiss me if you want to.â and thatâs enough for him to look back up at you, grin and softly press his lips against yours (contrary to popular opinion his kisses would be very soft! đ¤âď¸) while grabbing both your shoulders with his hands
bf!heeseung who loves ur shoulders for some reason?? i just have this gut feeling that his favorite part about you is your shoulders?? like idk why, my heeseung senses r just tingling. anyways yes, heâd rest his head on your shoulders, kiss ur shoulders, put his arms over your shoulders and around your neck and whatnot!
⌠. . ë°ě˘
ěą ďź
bf!jay whoâd spent astronomical amounts of money (willingly :)) in just a week!! he refuses to buy you cheap counterparts, expensive is what his pretty lover deserves !
bf!jay WHO WOULD COOK THE MOST GOURMET MEALS FOR YOU! if it is a cultural dish, he will take time out of his day to cook in the kitchen with you until he learns how to make said cultural dish, then he will make it for u 4ever and ever!!! jay is certainly a caring partner
bf!jay who gives u sm partner privilege itâs insane. like heâd do anything for you without a second doubt. ask him to help you look for ur phone? no need, heâs already bought you 10 different new ones!
bf!jay who is such a romantic partner?? like if ur at work late, he will set up a whole candlelit dinner (hand made cuisine) with âmoonlightâ by kali uchis playing in the background. (jay looks like that song :3)
bf!jay likes tracing his fingers over your delicately placed features like you were sculpted by Greek Gods, and heâs nothing but a mere commoner admiring your beauty.
bf!jay gets matching things for you two âšď¸ matching pandora rings, matching shoes/heels, what is there that he wouldnât wear to twin with you! hell, heâd even do that cute thing where he matched the color of his tie to your dress!
bf!jay who does likes to go out with you, but he also likes to stay in! no matter what, he wants to be with you.
bf!jay who thinks that reading a romcom cuddled up with you under rain is a perfect way to spend saturday afternoon! (hint: he doesnât usually like to read romcoms, he just loves spending time with you too much to say no đ)
to conclude, jay just loves to do things for you. he always tries to impress you/make himself the perfect boyfriend for you by planning dates, getting u gifts, and doing whatever you need at all times (i feel like he believes heâll never be good enough for u đ)
⌠. . ěŹěŹě¤ ďź
bf!jake who gets so shy around u?? like stop u could stare at him and when he finally notices heâll giggle like a little girl about it. he has the biggest crush on you ever itâs unbelievable
âokay fine, i love you more than my dog. i love you more than anyone, actually. is that weird?â
bf!jake who is a playful and lighthearted person, he truly does not have the capability to get mad at you đ
but ofc heâs human, so when you two (somehow) get into arguments, heâll always be the one to show up at your door at like 3am with a cute pout on his face because he misses you (itâs been 6 hours since you guys have last talked??) anyways how could you say no to his puppy face! obviously, u let him in and you two cuddle the night away
bf!jake who calls you laylaâs mom and gets like cuteness aggression when he sees you and layla together
bf!jake who would say âthis is for youâ before shooting a hoop (and missing) for shits n giggles
bf!jake who clings onto you like his life depends on itâŚâŚ. this guy is so clingy???? like stop u wonât be able to use your non dominant hand at all because jake is just grabbing onto it for dear life
bf!jake who would LOVEE if his girlfriend had soft and plush cheeks. heâd squish ur face and giggle continuously at how cute you looked, pouty-faced and all.
bf!jake who likes simple yet planned out dates. picnics, arcade dates, carnival dates, and more are all apart of his comfort zone! but if you wanted to try anything new, heâd totally be up for it
bf!jake who loves u sososo unconditionally and always sticks by your side!! heâs like the type to agree with you in public and softly correct you in private.
bf!jake who smothers you with affection hourly reminds you everyday that he loves ur hair, ur face, ur body, ur legs, ur hands, and most importantly, YOU!!!
⌠. . ë°ěąí ďź
bf!sunghoon who would take you on ice skating dates and then take photos of you slipping on the ice (which donât even come out that good because heâs busy laughing đ )
bf!sunghoon who teases you then smirks when you get flustered like you teasing him doesnât result in him having a mental breakdown of some sorts??? like boy plz
bf!sunghoon WHO IS SO SASSY OVER TEXT?? heâs literally your princess. âđđŤ¸â is his go to emoji combo
bf!sunghoon who posts mirror selfies of the two of you and tries to be mysterious in the captions: âme n my girl đ¤â
bf!sunghoon who learns random english phrases (or ur main language) to impress you with
bf!sunghoon who wants to match styles with his s/o. would love to be the classy, romantic, sort of private couple.
bf!sunghoon who isnât that into pda but if someone else starts flirting with you or even looks at you heâll start being all touchy until the other person goes away. heâs super protective of u but doesnât really show it that often
bf!sunghoon who pretends to be annoyed when you steal his hoodies knowing damn well he likes when you take his hoodies because they always smell like you after you give them back!!!!!
bf!sunghoon who loves to go on late night walks with you. everytime he sees a wildflower, heâll pluck it for you and tuck it in your hair
bf!sunghoon who definitely can not fall asleep unless he gets a goodnight kiss from you đ
⌠. . ęšě ě° ďź
as your boyfriend, sunoo would love your hair sm.
especially if you had long hair heâd buy you shampoos, conditioners, everything! heâd also love to blow dry your hair for you and style it and everything
bf!sunoo would 100% let you sit on his lap and practice your makeup on him!!
bf!sunoo who would love to bake with you!!!! like he would make cakes and then use icing to spell out you twoâs intials on the top
bf!sunoo whoâs favorite form of affection is holding hands đ heâd do the thumb thing and adores when you grabs his hand randomly throughout the day, it gives him butterflies!
bf!sunoo who gets you small bouquets of tulips everytime he sees you!
bf!sunoo who loves to lay on your chest while cuddling and listen to your heartbeat (not in a creepy way, itâs just super comforting for him)
bf!sunoo who places gentle kisses all over your face before you fall asleep. he always makes sure to fall asleep after you so youâre comfortable
bf!sunoo who goes over your drama with you and hates whoever you hate. heâs your best friend and your boyfriend all at once!
bf!sunoo who is insanely creative when it comes to date ideas. he will make sure that he is the one planning dates most/all of the time!! his favorites are picnics, art dates, cafĂŠ dates and museum dates!!
bf!sunoo who loves to have a runway show in your bedroom after every one of your shopping trips!! he would coordinate the outfits and then cheer you on as you strut down the hallway
sunoo would tease you (not that much tho) about your height (would love a short gf!!) and then giggle about it and you just have to accept it cuz it makes him happy and his smile is literally the prettiest thing ever
bf!sunoo who genuinely does not know how to hate you, heâd give the softest love ever âšď¸
⌠. . ěě ě ďź
bf!jungwon who loves to tickle you. ik it sounds weird but just hear me out 𼰠heâd definitely just tickle the side of your waist randomly while you guys are cuddling just to hear your laugh and annoy you
bf!jungwon who prefers to be called âwonâ or other nicknames/petnames by you rather than his real name. would pout if you ever called him âjungwonâ and go âhey!â
bf!jungwon who keeps a collection of cute photos of you on his phone to go through when he misses u âšď¸ itâs genuinely so wholesome.
bf!jungwon also would keep a folder of just a bunch of 0.5 photos of you doing random things and make them your pfp on all messaging apps.
bf!jungwon who does silly little tiktok couple trends with you whenever you ask him to
bf!jungwon would ask you to do a spin everyday to see your outfit and then gush about how good you look!!
bf!jungwon, who often stays up late at night with you while the two of you talk about the future family you will have. | a conversation between the two of you would go, âweâll have two kids! or three? or four?â âno, weâll have cats instead. two cats, and one of them is you!â
bf!jungwon who ruffles your hair teasingly only to fix it again, pulling at each strand and placing it in its place gently
bf!jungwon who texts you random romantic song lyrics throughout the day, which never fail to fluster you and make you giggle
bf!jungwon who is a sucker for cheek kisses. before you leave him, heâd be like âoh, youâre forgetting something :(â and youâd always play along, âwhat?â youâd say with a giggle as heâd point to his cheek, the place where youâd leave a small but loving peck!
⌠. . 輿ćĺ ďź
bf!riki who gets butterflies whenever you call him his real name, riki, over his stage name. it makes him feel closer to you đ
bf!riki who would make playlists for the two of you, naming them with you guysâ initials.
bf!riki whoâd always had this fantasy of teaching his future girlfriend to dance, and thatâs exactly what he does with you. heâd slowly wrap his arms around your own and guide them to the music.
bf!riki just would not let you get out of bed?? like every morning itâs a struggle for you đ âni-ki let me go iâll be late!â âno, 5 more minutes đ â and how could u say no
bf!riki who always giggles in between kisses, causing you to pull away and lean your forehead on his while the two of you smile at one another fondly
bf!riki who LOVES to see u in his hoodies!! in fact, heâd even leave his hoodies at ur house just to see you wear it, and then tease you for it. âew, give me back my hoodie, stinky.â heâd say, but in his head heâs kicking his feet at how ur body is engulfed by the cloth which is 10x too long for you.
bf!riki who pulls you out of bed late at night for impromptu 3AM walks to the convenience store.
bf!riki would teach you japanese and absolutely die everytime you try to say something in japanese for him
bf!riki who would tease you so much, especially if you were shorter than him, heâd misplace your things, putting them on high shelves and whatnot so you have no choice but to ask him to grab it for you
bf!riki who is super shy in front of other people, but when itâs just you two he gets super physical and touchy and affectionate!
bf!riki who mumbles sweet nothings into the crook of your neck while you two are cuddling after heâs sure youâve fell asleep đ¤ đ
tysm for reading!
â
#â hyeinkiss#enhypen#enhypen nishimura riki#enhypen kim sunoo#enhypen jake#enhypen sim jaeyun#sim jaeyun#enhypen park sunghoon#enhypen sunghoon#park sunghoon#enhypen soft hours#enhypen boyfriend#boyfriend#enhypen heeseung#enhypen jungwon#yang jungwon#lee heeseung#enha#headcanons#enhypen lee heeseung#enhypen yang jungwon#ni-ki#riki#heeseung#fluff#kpop#layout#kpop layout#enhypen headcanons
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Hiiii sugarplum. I would absolutely adore some stripper reader x Hotch maybe like some of him comforting her or just coming to visit like outside of the case and some fluff đĽ°đĽ°
ty for requesting!! fem
Youâre texting on the wall outside of work when a shadow cuts across the streetlight illuminating your lap. Your head flinches up, phone to your chest, but the man standing in front of you isnât one youâve ever been scared of. âFuck, Aaron, you scared me,â you say with a nervous laugh.Â
He smiles at you in his gentle, unassuming way. âSorry. I took care to scuff my shoes as I walked.â
âOh, you took care,â you say. Your smile is far less gentle than his; your cheeks apple, your words coloured with it. âI was in my own world.âÂ
âI thought we talked about you coming outside alone.â
âDid we?â you ask, the short wall youâre sitting on biting into your hands and thighs as you tip back to grin at him teasingly. âGosh, Iâm sorry, Mr. Hotchner, I canât seem to remember any such talk.âÂ
âMm.â He rolls his eyes. âYou donât remember that?âÂ
âDonât recall, no.â
âSo you also wonât remember the conversation we had about flowers.âÂ
Your first date, your only date, and your first bouquet. Heâd given you flowers and read the embarrassment on your face immediately. You arenât the kind of girl who gets flowers.Â
Whatâs wrong? heâd asked.Â
Youâd held the flowers to your chest, something in you worried heâd take them away, though youâre almost positive heâs incapable of being cruel like that. Do I look stupid?Â
Of course you donât.Â
There hadnât been much else to say about the flowers, until after the evening had gone well, and heâd asked you for another date. High with the delight of knowing Spencerâs nice, handsome boss doesnât just think youâre pretty, he likes you, youâd said Sure, if you bring me another lovely bouquet, we can go on as many dates as you like.Â
Aaron pulls the bouquet from behind his back. Petals bounce off of his tie, pinks and whites and baby blues against his black blazer and pristine white shirt as he taps his chest. Theyâre beautiful, and far too many.Â
âAre they really for me?â you ask. Youâve never seen such a big bouquet in your life. Itâs a wonder they fit behind his back.Â
The strangest thing about dating him has been his sudden propensity for moments of shyness. âThat depends,â he says, the slightest hint of nerves in his otherwise dulcet tone, âare they nice enough?âÂ
âTheyâre the prettiest flowers Iâve ever seen.â You stand up and hold out your hands, pull them back to your chest, and then hold them back out again. You canât not want them.Â
He hands them off to you.Â
It must be weird for him to meet you like this. Heâs very high up the ladder of his career, and it doesnât make much sense for him to fall for you. Youâre younger, less educated, less prestigiously employed. You hadnât understood what it was about you that pulled him in, but you can remember how clearly he told you he was interested in you. No shame. Not a hint of reluctance. Heâs bringing you flowers outside of the stripclub, ignoring the fact that youâre in sweatpants and a tight corset-type bra, and he hasnât looked at your body once.Â
âI was just texting you,â you say, opening your phone to press send on the text waiting in the hot bar.Â
Aaronâs phone immediately pings.Â
He reads it quickly. It isnât a long message. Hi, handsome. Want to pick me up tonight?Â
If heâd said yes or no didnât matter, because youâd just wanted to talk to him, and here he is.Â
He finally ducks in. A half side step into your reach, his face angled down, he kisses you chastely on the lips and everything fades away. The neon pink at your feet, the buzzing streetlights and the passing cars, the steady thump of music from three different buildings, it all disappears under his warm hand. He kisses you, and he hugs you to his chest, careful not to crush your flowers. You could glow from the inside out.Â
Heâs still smiling as he pulls away. âAre you hungry?â he asks softly.Â
âSo hungry.âÂ
âWe can get anything you want.âÂ
âReally? What if I want the same as last time?âÂ
It had been expensive and youâd felt vaguely underdressed. Aaron doesnât baulk. âAnything you want⌠You may need to wear my jacket, though. I donât think your current outfit adheres to their dress code.âÂ
You push the flowers just under his nose. âFunny.â
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble
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A soulmate AU: Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.3K] 18+
THE TIMELINE
âAll I want is nothing more, to hear you knocking at my door. âCause if I could see your face once more, I could die as a happy man I'm sure. When you said your last goodbye, I died a little bit inside. I lay in tears in bed all night, alone without you by my side. But if you loved me, why did you leave me?â
- All I Want by Kodaline
III. LONG ISLAND, NEW YORK: 1922
Opening the side door to the manor was easy when everyone else was occupied in the foyer.
The whole house was still alive despite the early morning hour, the air still smelling of the fireworks that lingered, gunpowder and spilled champagne. There was broken glass in the kitchen, from cocktail saucers or the smashed chandelier in the hallway, Steve wasnât sure. But it crunched under his leather shoes as he snuck into the dark scullery, empty of the help and the silver platters of food theyâd spent the day making.
He could see the silhouette through the frosted glass, impatiently waiting as he fumbled with the brass lock, the vibrations of the trombones and sax from the floor above making the handle buzz in his fist.
Steve barely got a chance to look at you before you had flung yourself at him, arms around his neck and chests colliding. He laughed, a small catch in his throat leaving him breathless for a second, your enthusiasm contagious. You still smelled like work, like cigar smoke and other peoples perfume, expensive cologne and top shelf sherry. It clung to your beaded dress, to your skin and Steve liked these nights, he liked the challenge of making you his again, even when you really werenât supposed to be.
âTheyâre still going?â You asked, your words muffled against his chest. Youâd get lipstick on his white shirt but neither of you cared. Steve had learnt long ago how to hide it from the maids.
He hummed in confirmation, any words he wanted to say stolen by your lips, your hands climbing up past his neck and into his hair. You tugged at it, ruining the style, hating when he slicked it back for the sake of the parties you were never allowed to attend.
It was a ferocious kiss, the kind that smudged your lipstick onto his mouth, the kind that told him you wanted to claim what you could of him in the short time you were able. Steve groaned, responding in kind, his arms winding around your waist to haul you even closer to him, his lips parting for your tongue.
It never grew old, it never waned - this feeling. Every kiss like the first, every time like nothing heâd ever felt before, never like anyone else. Your touch sent something through his bones, a deep kind of love that felt older and stronger and more powerful than the earth itself. He saw you one day in the city, under the bright lights that lit up Times Square and something told him that you were made for him.
Not a voice, just a feeling, one that his friends scoffed at because you werenât from any kind of money that his family would accept and your dress didnât come from Macyâs. But youâd turned and caught his eye, lips painted the prettiest red, eyes all bright like you felt the same when you looked at him. Days had turned to weeks and first dates had turned into nights in his locked bedroom and he still remembered the first time you pressed your ruby lips to the side of his throat and told him you were sure the gods themselves created him for you.
You kissed him now like you were remembering those words, your small hands diving into the already open collar of his white shirt, his black tie slipping from his neckline and you kissed that same spot, two moles that you claimed were somehow yours. They seemed to burn when you touched them, every pass of your lips and tongue making him feel weaker and weaker. And when you bit down a little, teeth grazing, Steve didnât even notice the rain that had started to fall outside.
He felt feverish with you, greedy and desperate and never able to get enough. The brass band that his mother had hired for the evening started up another song, the China plates in the pantry cabinets rattling from the dancing feet above. He was on borrowed time, he knew that. So he let his tongue lick over your own once, twice, three times more before he pulled away, just enough to get his words out. You were as breathless as he was, too pretty in the dim light with your perfectly done make up, the pearls around your neck that no one knew came from him. Your dress made you glitter and from the faded lipstick around your mouth, Steve knew the majority was stamped on his own lips, his neck, his jaw.
The idea of it made him hold you tighter.
Thunder rumbled, a storm moving in over the lake outside the manor, the small yacht that was docked by the boathouse dipping with the current.
âLetâs go,â he murmured, kissing at the corner of your mouth between words. âBefore they need to come for more champagne.â
So you let him pull you out of the kitchen, despite how well you knew the house you were never supposed to be invited into. Steve took your hand and led you like a secret, peering around corners before running past open doors, each room bigger than the last. The manor was all cherry oak floorboards and velvet drapes. There were chaise lounges in every bay window, baby grand pianos under crystal chandeliers and Steveâs father made sure the golden bar carts were always stocked and kept in every room.
The party was still thrumming in the largest lounge, where the hired band stood on the curved stairs and people danced on the tables. The glass doors were opened to the pool, a bright blue rectangle in the otherwise dark night and flecks of gold confetti lay atop the water, never sinking, looking like real life magic.
People spilled from everywhere, women shoeless and men missing their dinner jackets, hand in hand with girls that werenât their wives and some of the richest of them showed their greed with a scantily clad dancer on each arm.
A door opened to the right, a server who was working well past his paid hours, still in his suit and carrying a large tray of champagne saucers, his expression bored. Steve grabbed you before the man could spot you both, tugging you behind a marble bust of a Grecian goddess, a piece of art that shouldâve been in a museum.
The vacant eyes and kind smile of Aphrodite stared back at you both, seemingly amused at your lover's embrace, the one you had to hide.
âWeâre not going to make it upstairs,â you whispered. It was too easy for Steve to let your touch linger on his waist, fingers tracing his belt, greedy and searching beneath his crumpled shirt for the feel of his warm skin. He needed you yesterday. He needed you always. âTheyâll see us before we reach your room.â
Steve winced, knowing you were right. He could hear his mother from the lounge, singing too loudly, calling for another glass, her laughter making his jaw tense. âLibrary,â he said, nodding towards the door across the hall. âCâmon.â
You both made a run for it when the hallway seemed clear, the party goers too drunk to make out your faces, to recognise the girl that wasnât supposed to be here, who certainly wasnât supposed to be hand in hand with the man that wasnât meant to be hers.
Steve closed the door with a soft click, turning the brass key in the lock just to make sure. The music was duller from behind the thick oak, the shelves and forest green curtains that draped along the walls. The library smelled like rich wood and old cigar smoke, older books and leather. It was stuffed with wingback armchairs, low lights from behind emerald glass lamp shades and dark, dark wood. A large fireplace took centre stage in the middle of the room, family photos and golden candlesticks along the mantle, the clock huge gilded mirror above it showing you and Steve standing together.
Outside the stained glass window, lightning flashed in the distance, the lake turning white, just for a second.
You didnât have time to worry about the storm, nor think too hard about its sudden appearance. Theyâd always scared you, the too loud sounds, the crashes that seemed to vibrate in your bones, the lightning that always appeared way too close. Steve moved to stand behind you, his hand coming to smooth the collar of your dress away from your neck so he could dip his head down to kiss your skin.
His lips were a warm trail over your throat, his nose pressed underneath your jaw and you felt his smile when you tipped your head for him, granting him access. His hands, always so big and wide, spanned the sides of your waist, the beads and crystals that hung from your dress singing a soft song at his touch.
âMissed you,â he breathed, running the tip of his nose underneath your ear. He sucked at your throat, biting softly and you could only watch in awe as you stood in front of the mirror. âI missed you so much, honey.â
You knew why you hadnât gotten to see him in so long. Eight whole days of being apart, seeing him in the city when he took his car to work, always flanked by business partners or his father. Worse still, you saw him one Saturday morning with his mother, another woman on his arm, a stiff smile on his lips as they entered a tea house. You knew the womanâs name, you just didnât like to say it. His future wife, although Steve liked to remind you that they werenât yet even engaged. But his mother was sure of it, the agreement made like a business deal because her father was head of the bank and Steveâs mother liked money.
A loveless marriage, set up for wealth, for survival, for good genes and even better business opportunities. But you saw the way the other woman looked at Steve, blown out curls and peach coloured lips always smiling up at him, ready to give him children and more.
A housewife. Ready made and picture perfect. The very thing that you were not.
âI missed you too,â you whispered back, unable to help it the way your voice cracked because long gone was the idea that you could pretend this wasnât anything more than a fling.
You ached without the man. The longer you were apart the harder it became, a pain growing between your chest like an open wound that was pulled too tight. And now, as his hands trailed your hips and his lips found your jaw, you could feel it knitting itself closed, a pretty, red string tying the cut closed.
Youâd seen the other woman, you knew what was meant to happen. You knew youâd lose him, eventually. That heâd no longer be yours. Heâd have a ring on his finger and children with someone else and live in a house even bigger than this one and youâd never, ever be snuck in through a back door again.
It didnât seem fair. It didnât seem right. There was nothing in the world that youâd ever felt that was yours. No real money, different jobs for different months, an apartment above a bookstore in Brooklyn that you had to share with three other girls and even the dress you wore was borrowed.
But Steve? Steve Harrington?
It felt like someone created him just for you. Carved from marble, drawn on a canvas and brought to life, a man beyond perfect. Because he had his flaws - just like so many others that youâd dated - but you accepted his with more love than youâd ever felt before. The world seemed to still when you were with him, the entire planet slowing on its axis just so you could savour his touch a little longer.
You lay in his bed, in his arms, wrapped in his expensive cologne and cotton sheets and you knew.
You knew.
You knew that there was no way there was anyone else in this world that you were supposed to be with. His hand fit in yours too well, his lips slotting between your own like they were made from the same thing.
From a time before, when someone or something decided to create the Earth and built you both from the same bone.
Steve spoke into the crook of your neck, his finger spanning wide as his hands travelled over the front of you, feeling every curve, the softness of your stomach, the beads of your pretty dress, the dip of your waist. âYou know, sometimes I think it would hurt less to drown in the lake than go without you,â he whispered, eyes closed as if at confession, murmuring his sins and secrets into your skin.
He kissed your throat again, revelling in the way your head fell back to top against his shoulder. Your eyes shut, your lips parted, your body trusting him to hold you up. âThatâs awfully melodramatic,â you said airily.
Steve hummed, the ghost of his smile on your jaw. âIsnât it? But itâs true. Iâve missed you more than I can understand.â He nudged you forward then, took the zipper at your shoulder blades between his fingers and tugged. âI needed you in my bed, in my sheets. They donât smell like you anymore.â
You bit your lip, refusing to give into the questions that were bitter tasting and stuck in your throat: âhas she been in them? Do they smell of her? Does she know about me?â
Because Steve pulled fully at your zipper and you shrugged your shoulders, letting the dress fall to the wooden floorboards, you turned in his arms and saw his eyes. Full of love, sadness, complete adoration and something else that youâd never seen in another manâs before. You were almost naked before him, blush pink undergarments made of silk and lace taught across your skin, silken thigh highs held up by suspenders, all costing an entire paycheck.
Steve wasnât even looking at them, not yet. His hands went to your face, fingers cupping your jaw so gently that you even thought to yourself, that you might just break. It felt like it. His thumbs smoothed away the worry etched on your skin, frown lines disappearing under his touch and when he breathed out, you breathed in.
Sometimes you wondered if you shared the same heart.
âI love you,â he told you, his forehead pressed to yours.
You nodded, a tear slipping down one cheek and Steve kissed it away. âI love you, too.â
âDesperately,â Steve reminded you, bringing his mouth to yours. His kiss was feverish, pulling away too quickly before descending on you again, lips parted, tongue swiping across your own. âInsanely,â he groaned.
Your back hit a bookshelf as you tugged his shirt out of his trousers, the linen crumpling in your hands, a button hitting the floor when you became too impatient. Your fingertips traced the red lipstick marks on his neck, the ones that had smudged onto his clavicle and it was everything you needed to see and more.
A brand, hardly permanent, but yours nonetheless. If not just for tonight.
âI need you,â you told him, your skin on fire as his hand found your thigh. He pushed you into the spines of the books, cold leather on your skin as he hitched your leg to his hip and rolled his own against you. âSteve.â
âI know,â he murmured and his voice was hoarse, weak sounding. âI know, honey,â Steve assured you.
His belt rattled as it fell apart in your hands, the buckle cool to the touch and before you could push your hand into his underwear, Steve spun you both. You found yourself against one of the armchairs, tweed and plush, Steve kissing you from shoulder to shoulder as he stood behind you and coaxed your hands onto the back of it.
âHold on,â he told you and you nodded, eyes half opened from the anticipation. You heard his zip, the slick sound of him stroking himself and you keened, impatient. Steve tutted and just as your eyes slipped shut, his fingers were under your chin, his bare chest curving along your back. âEyes open, sweetheart. Look up. Watch yourself.â
Staring straight ahead, you saw how heâd positioned you both. In front of the fireplace, where the huge mirror hung above. You could see yourself, a scandalous sight, half naked and dripping in expensive lace, one strap of your brassiere falling from a shoulder. Smudged lipstick, darkened eyes and the most handsome man in Long Island draped over your frame.
Steve was pressed against your ass, his cock waiting hot and hard against your lower back as he moulded himself to your body. He was kissing your shoulder, mouth open and his jaw and neck decorated in your lipstick. His hair was already a mess, his white shirt hanging open and his hands wandering up your bare stomach to cup your breasts, finding your nipples through the silk almost too easily.
His eyes, half lidded and heavy with lust, found yours in the reflection of the mirror.
It was sinful.
âWatch what I do to you,â he said.
So you did.
You let the man push a knee between yours, spreading your legs for him so he could work his fingers into your underwear. You shivered as he talked you through it, telling you how wet you were, how good he knew you tasted. How he could spend days and nights and entire weeks between your thighs, how we wished he could have you on his tongue. Two fingers, achingly and annoyingly gentle, rubbed circles to your clit as he spoke, his eyes on your own the entire time and you felt too hot under his stare, his smile that grew when you gasped and whined.
He reared back when he pushed a finger into you, his other hand braced against the small of your back and he urged you to please him in a voice that sounded like sex itself. Steve was choked, his words tight in his throat and they came out in a rasp, pleading as he fucked two thick fingers in and out of your cunt.
âLet me see you,â he begged, his eyes taking down your frame and he groaned, almost too loud, when you dragged the cups of your bra down. Your tits were pushed against the back of the chair, moving with each motion his fingers made inside of you, the slow rock that had begun as Steve rolled his cock against your ass.
âBeautiful,â he told you, and he sounded like he was kneeling at an altar, talking to a god. âYouâre so beautiful. Youâre mineââ
âInside me,â you interrupted. You were close to tears, your eyes glassy, everything too much. You felt as if youâd die if you didnât have him closer. âSteve, I need youâ I need you inside me.â
Outside, rain slammed against the large window, the lake nothing but a grey-blue blue behind the streaked glass. The wind howled and if youâd cared to listen, you wouldâve heard the faint shrieks and laughs of the party-goers as they fought against the wind, trying to close the patio doors. Thunder cracked above the house, as if disagreeing, as if fighting back.
You didnât hear any of it over the sound of Steve moaning in your ear as he slipped his cock against your folds, the head nudging once, twice at your clit before he pushed his hips back and slid into you. He fell forward, feeling like a man whoâd been broken down and fixed again, his head on your shoulder as he wound his arms around your waist. You were held, truly held against him, feeling full and loved and adored as he whispered every sweet word he knew into your skin.
The two of you stayed like that for minutes, maybe a few longer than you realised, before it became too much. You whined, a needy sound that made Steveâs cock twitch inside of you and then you were being hauled up with him. The two of you standing behind the chair, your back to his chest and as the thunder grew louder and the windows rattled, you both gave in.
Your hands found home in Steveâs hair, reaching up and back to ground him to you, one of his hands moving your knee up to rest on the chair, opening you for him. Your pretty pink underwear was stretched out, allowing room for his cock to slip into you further. It was a dirty grind, you barely pushing your hips back as Steve snapped his into your own, his hand on your neck as he kept you facing forward, your eyes locked on each other.
His kisses became more lips than teeth, biting at your jaw, your earlobe, his fingers only leaving your throat to play with your bouncing tits, pinching at your nipples until you clenched around him. It was raw, dirty, watching each other in the mirror like that, seeing how wet you were with your legs spread open, Steveâs cock shining from you in the low light as it disappeared inside of you over and over and over again.
âCould stay like this,â Steve gasped, fucking you faster now. The sight of your body slack against his had him reeling, your perfume on his skin, your lipstick on his throat. âCould stay like this forever, could hold you forever, want you foreverââ
His words were cut short as you came suddenly, clenching around him with a cry, your eyes shut tight in bliss and your head thrown back on his shoulder. You tugged at his hair, pulling him down, silently begging for a kiss that he gave you, a slow, deep push of his mouth to your own and he came with a wrecked noise when you breathed his name against his parted lips.
Steve had barely softened inside of you when he spoke. âRun away with me.â
You werenât sure you heard him above the harsh breaths leaving both your lips, chest heaving and bodyâs lax against each other. His lips traced the line of your jaw, his mouth finding the corner of your own, he kissed you, once, twice, three times, his arms pulling you into his embrace and you could smell his cologne, the remnants of cigar smoke, sex and you.
âRun away with me,â he whispered again. âLetâs just go, we canâ we can leave. Tonight.â
âSteveââ your voice was already pained and you slipped from his arms, fixing the lace until your skin was covered, watching as Steve tucked himself back into his dress pants. He left his shirt open as you searched the floor for your dress, his lips twisted with the rejection he knew that would come. âYou know we canâtââ
âI want to spend forever with you,â he said and you knew he meant it.
Maybe the sky did too, because the rain fell heavier and lightning flashed across the lake, turning the world ultraviolet, just for a second.
âWe canât,â you said sadly, your voice a whisper. The words cracked in your mouth. âYouâre not mine to keep.â
Steve watched you drag your dress up your legs, the unshed tears glittering in the corners of your eyes. His breath left him in a heavy gasp, like someone had punched him in the chest.
âBut I am,â he told you, his chest heaving, burning. He blinked, eyes stinging, his vision blurring. The sky above the house cracked. âI am yours.â
It hurt to say it but you shook your head and spoke anyway, your eyes fixed on the way your lips had left tattoos on Steveâs skin. You were all over him still, even separated by five feet. And stillâ âyouâre Nancyâs.â You swallowed the lump in your throat. âYouâre Nancy Wheelerâs and she is yours and thatâsâ thatâs how itâs meant to be.â
Steve shook his head, moving forward with his shirt still hanging open, his hair curling across his forehead and his hands caught your own. âNo. No, no, noââ he look pained, fingers reaching up to brush across your damp cheek and you shouldâve pulled away. But you couldnât. âNo. Thatâs notâ itâs not like that. You know this.â
Steve bent, lips finding the corner of your mouth as you moved out of guilt, his touch chasing you. He made a noise of protest, ducking his head closer until he could steal a kiss and you bent to his will, lips yielding under his own he tasted like you, like sex and like home, like something you felt youâd know your entire life and maybe the one before too.
âRun away with me,â he murmured into the kiss, forehead touching yours. You didnât have to open your eyes to know that he was crying, his voice wet, cracking like the clouds outside and when lightning struck the dock on the bay, he pulled you closer. âWeâll find somewhere else for us. Another town, another country. Another home, another life.â
You kissed him then, stole the words from his lips and swallowed them, kept them locked somewhere close to your heart and you knew you had to hold onto them. For as long as you could. Forever, if you had to.
âMaybe,â you started, voice hitching, ââmaybe we werenât supposed to have this life.â
Steve groaned, a soft sound of agony, of protest. The storm was passing, the party louder than before. He hated how this felt like a goodbye.
âMaybe, we just need to promise that weâll find each other in the next one.â
#steve harrington#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fic#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington smut#steve harrington fanfic#steve Harrington fanfiction#steve Harrington oneshot
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Darry being sweet to pregnant!reader pls pls pls đđ it can be anything like rubbing her belly, talking to her bump, getting her cravings, helping her walk down the stairs since she can't see her feet anymore, etc
send me requests for the outsiders!
--
You swear Darrel has developed some sort of sixth sense, a supernatural knack for knowing exactly when you mean to prop one leg behind you and bend down to reach something lower than your waist height.
"Don't you go bendin' down like that," Darry points an accusatory finger at you, the same one that usually pokes Ponyboy in the chest when his grades are less than stellar, "Sit in my chair, wait for me to grab my wallet, and I'll tie them shoes for you."
You sink into his plush armchair with a mixture of irritation and fondness swirling in your enlarged gut. It's confusing even to you, how you can want to bitch and moan at Darry for being so overprotective while simultaneously wanting to handcuff yourself to him so that he can never leave your side.
True to his word, Darry strides out of his bedroom with his wallet tucked safely in his jeans, bending down with ease you're jealous of and kneeling at your feet.
He laces them just the way you like them- just loose enough at the toes and just tight enough around the ankle. Then he wraps them around your leg once, because they're too long and he knows you'll trip on them if you step wrong. He does everything perfect, and when both shoes are laced, he leans in to press a kiss to your baby bump.
"Your mama's a stubborn one," He tells your future daughter, "Always tryin' to crush you in there by bending down and tying her shoes. But I got'cha, little girl, I ain't gonna let her smush 'ya."
When he's done poisoning your baby with tyrannical, unjust lies, he stands, offering his hand for you to take. If it were anyone else you'd be careful not to use him to pull yourself up too hard, but you know Darry's muscles can take it, so you push heavily on his hand to raise yourself to your feet.
"There y'go, honey." Darry croons, folding his fingers between yours and leading you to the front door, "Alright, car ride ain't gonna be too bad, but if you need me to pull over so you can get some air, let me know. And if babygirl gets too heavy tonight, let me know, okay? I'll stand behind you and lift'er up."
It's very hard to maintain your annoyance at him when he looks at you with those sweet blue eyes, a curl of his hair falling in front of them. He's still holding your hand in his own strong one, and you find yourself hopelessly nodding along to what he's saying.
"Thanks, Dar." You sigh, sounding wistful like someone out of a princess movie. But you can't help it, because with Darry, you get the princess treatment.
"You ain't gotta thank me, baby," He urges, going down the steps of his front porch first and bracing you as you step down gingerly yourself. When you meet him on the flat sidewalk he kisses you just the same as he had your belly, sweet and chaste and full of love, "Any excuse I get to help my girls out is one I'm gonna take."
#the outsiders x reader#darrel curtis x reader#darry curtis x reader#darry curtis fanfiction#darrel curtis fanfiction#darry curtis imagine#darrel curtis imagine#the outsiders imagine#the outsiders fanfiction
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to. my first â 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. (orâ 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 youâve been desiring for at least the last three hoursâ 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.Â
You donât 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 thatâ and those people are your friends from high school.Â
Everything about coming back to your hometown has made you feel unpleasantly nostalgic so farâ the streets havenât 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. Itâs only tonight that finally makes the weird bittersweetness turn into joy. Youâre back home with everyone youâve ever known, with everyone whoâs made you into who you are today. Youâre seeing all their faces for the first time in agesâ and frankly, it does feel good.Â
The satisfaction in your veins stays for a bit until a figure dressed in a suit comes into your point of view. Itâs not like youâre seeing him for the first time tonightâ heâs a big character, even when it comes to this wedding, so itâs hard to not notice himâ 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. Donât get me wrongâ there are no hard feelings between the two of you (or at least you donât have any, youâre not so sure about his side of the story). Itâs 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, thereâs still a strong aftertaste of your feelings towards him somewhere on the tip of your tongue.Â
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 messyâ thereâs only so much to explain his composure apart from all the dancing heâs done.
âSo I see that you still canât handle your liquor well even after all those years?â you joke, making the boy turn his head to face you, an amused twinkle appearing in his smile.Â
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. âWell, itâs not every day you are the best man at your best friendâs and your sisterâs wedding,â he muses, shrugging.Â
Laughing at his remark, once again taking in the state of the roomâ Juyeon, Hyunjae and Haknyeon each dancing somewhere in the middle of the dance floor, MB!Y/Nâs 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 toâ it all feels kind of surreal. Who wouldâve 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 Yearâs Eve of 1999â him being this cheesy was only acceptable because it was his own wedding. In any other circumstance, Sunwoo wouldnât be able to let his best friend live this down.
Itâs not like you ever expected those two to break upâ it just makes you a little in awe at how fast time is passing. âItâs kinda crazy, isnât it?â you hum, squinting at the flood of people on the dance floor.
âIt is,â Sunwoo hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek, âstill canât believe theyâre dating. Hell, theyâre getting married right nowâŚâÂ
âYou canât believe your sister is dating your best friend?â you laugh, wiping the sweat thatâs accumulated off your forehead, the mist appearing there both because of your reckless dancing and because of the unbearable heat of the August night.
âThat, and also the other way around,â he hisses, âbut I guess theyâre both so insufferable that they go well together, so I donât know why Iâm still so surprised.â
Chuckling at his commentâ you guess the bond he has with his sister is never to be changed, no matter how many years have passedâ 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. âWhat about you, though? Are you enjoying yourself?â
âI am,â you nod, no hesitation, âitâs really nice to see all of you after so long. Plus, Iâm having a lot of fun, so thatâs a nice bonus."Â
âI can see that,â he grins, âby the way you sat on my seat just now, and allââÂ
âOh godâ Iâm sorry,â you gasp, suddenly feeling a little silly. And here you thought he went up to you because he wanted to catch up⌠âIâll move, ifââ
The sound of Sunwooâs hearty laugh lands into your earâ itâs just the same as it was back when you were both high schoolers, making your heart soarâ 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. âNo, no, donât be stupid,â he says, âI donât mind. I was looking for you anyway, so you just made it easier for me by sitting here, actually.â
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 drinkâŚ
âYou were?â you ask, tone of voice lightâ not at all suspicious.Â
Sunwoo nods, shrugging. âWell, I guess we have a lot of catching up to do,â he smiles, âdonât we?âÂ
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. Theyâre less round than when you two were young, but his eyes still stay the sameâ 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 heâs 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 doesnât 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.Â
What seemed like a good idea just a few moments agoâ see, itâs prohibited to drink on school trips, but Kim Sunwoo is infamous for loving to break the rulesâ now seems like the worst idea of his whole entire life. He feels so sick he thinks heâs going to die of alcohol poisoning, but the laughter around keeps painfully reminding him that he hasnât even had that much to drink in the first place. The amount of times heâs been called a lightweight this night is making his pride severely hurt, and even graciously intoxicated, he canât bear the sting this is putting on his already hurt ego.Â
âCome on, birthday boy! Iâm sure you can handle one more,â Donghyuck urges, uncurling Sunwooâs fist and placing the bottle into his grasp, making the poor boy wince and battle back tears.Â
He knows heâs 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 canât reach.
âYouâre done for the night, Kim Sunwoo,â you haul at him, shaking your head at the poor boy, âyouâre done.â
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 pleadingâ maybe a warningâ mirrors in Sunwooâs gaze, and even though heâs 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.
âOh, Christââ 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.Â
You make it just in time to catch the contains of Sunwooâs stomach into the trash can, making the boy insanely gratefulâ heâs wearing the new shoes his mum got him for his birthday, and god knows heâd 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 heâs sure everyoneâs laughing at himâ even in his drunken state, he can recognise the shame filling his veinsâ 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.
âYou know he has a weak stomach, Donghyuck!â you huff and puff, your hand still drawing comforting circles to Sunwooâs back as his head stays stuck in the bucket, not having enough energy to even straighten his spine.Â
âItâs his birthday! Come on, donât be so tight-arsed.â
âWell, do you want him to die on his day of birth? Thatâs not very cool of you,â you growl, the shuffle of your clothing and a pained âowâ escaping his friendâs lips hinting to Sunwoo that you just kicked the right wing to his shin.Â
Deserved, Sunwoo thinks.
âCan somebody get Eric? Iâm pretty sure heâs in Daehwiâs room with MB!Y/N, Minjeong and Jihoon,â you hum, waiting for anyone to follow your orders.Â
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 teamâ and with you being one of the cheerleaders, youâre always somehow around. Not that heâs 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.
âDo you think youâll be sick again?â you ask, voice soft in his ear. âOr can I take the trash can off you now?â
Sunwoo thinks for a bit, then he nods and lets go of the plastic bucket. He doesnât know what happens to it after and nor does he careâ 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 heâs hadâ donât tell him itâs just his eyes getting hazy and confused with how much his head is spinning), but heâs sure he can feel you wiping his tear-stained cheeks (he wasnât cryingâ 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 stomachâ although itâs settled a bit since he threw up, itâs still a little uneasyâ and before he knows it, thereâs 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 hairâ but much to his dismay, your soft voice appears in his ear, telling him he has to get up. âCan you walk on your own? Weâre gonna get you back to your room,â you hum, your lips accidentally brushing against the shell of his ear, making everything in him light on fire. Heâs not really sure if this is the effect alcohol has on you, but if it is, heâs certain he never wants to drink again.
âSunwoo?â you call, the way you say his name suddenly all too angelic in his earsâ but still not enough for him to answer. âAlright,â 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, âI guess weâre gonna find out.â
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 worryâ is he being too much? Are you mad at him? Do you not want to be his friend anymore? â but before he has a chance to address any of those concerns, heâs 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 automaticallyâ yoursâ as another pair holds him up from behind by his waist.Â
Heâs not really sure who was his other savior, but by the silent curse heard from behind, he thinks he recognises Ericâs voice.Â
âI know I shouldnât have left him alone,â he hears his best friend say, voice full of frustration.
âYou really shouldnât have,â he hears you sigh, making the poor boy scowl.
It still feels like he canât really speak, exhaustion taking a toll on him, but he follows the orders as you tell him to get on his best friendâs backâ Ericâs 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 donât 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 heâs told.
âMan, youâre heavy,â he hears Eric huff under him as the poor boy carries him through the hall. âYouâre gonna have a killer hangover tomorrow, dudeâŚâ
Sunwooâs head rests against his friendâs shoulder, hands carelessly hanging around Ericâs 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.
âIâm sorry,â the two words escape his mouth with no troubleâ the first words to appear in his vocabulary after the few minutes of him being surprisingly muteâ only to hear his friend chuckle.
âWell, youâre going to be dying from a headache tomorrow, not us,â Eric hums, âso I think you have to apologize to future you first.â
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. âAre you mad at me?â he asks, voice a little groggy from all the screaming and drinking.
âWhat?â you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his question. Your face morphs into a confused expression, the one where a wrinkle appears in between your browsâ and it takes everything in Sunwoo not to poke the little line with his pointer finger in utter endearance.
âAre you⌠madâŚ?â he asks again, watching as your face morphs into amusement.
âNo,â you shake your head, a hint of a laugh in your tone. âWhy?â
âYou look grumpy.â
âIâm just worried,â you note.
âAbout?â Sunwoo asks, his intelligence morphing into a one of a 10-year old with the influence the alcohol has on him.Â
âYou,â 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 Sunwooâs bed.Â
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 knowâ god knows you wouldnât be able to carry Sunwoo on your own), and the comfort of the pillow around his head is enough to make Sunwooâs eyes start closing again, sleep threatening to take over his consciousness.
Thereâs 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 Ericâs way resonating in the quiet room. âMake sure that he sleeps on his side so if he throws up again, he doesnât chokeââ
âY/N?â he calls your name, watching as you look at him with careful eyes.
âHm?â
âAre you leaving?â he asks, maybe a little foolishly.
âYes.â
The boy nods at your reaction, showing his acknowledgement. In the drunken state of his mind, he knows he doesnât particularly want you to leave, but heâs 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.
âPlease donât stop liking me after this,â he mumbles, words slurring.
âWhat?â you askâ confused because you either donât fully comprehend what heâs trying to say, or because you truly just couldnât hear what words escaped his mouthâ but when you donât get a clarification, you just nod at the boy, seemingly desperate to keep him happy tonight. âOkay, I wonât.â
âYou wonât stop liking me?â he asks, a big pout playing with his features.
âNo.â
âOkay.â
That seems to put his mind at easeâ enough to make his brain finally turn off and lead him to sleep. He doesnât 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 youâll 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 youâll keep liking him even at his worstâ that he didnât drive you away and one day, maybe, youâll like him more than just a friend.
to. my first detention
September 1999
Sunwoo was never the one to break the rules.Â
Well, if you donât count that one time he skipped class just because he got too bored of it in the middle of the lecture. And it wasnât even that hard eitherâ he just asked if he could go to the bathroom, and when he got the approval, he stood up and left, never returning.Â
Or if you donât 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.Â
Sunwoo is usually too lazy to break the rules. Some days, paradoxically, his laziness is what leads him to break the rules. He canât 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, itâs not even his fault in the first place. Morning football practice ran late and he didnât feel like rushing to change out of his practice clothingâ see, the laziness is playing a part in this as wellâ 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 didnât even punish him. âWell, youâre an athlete, so itâs understandable,â 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 wouldâve done it a long time ago.Â
How did he still end up in detention, you may ask? Well, thatâs 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.
âIâm really, really sorry about being late,â you bow, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you look around the classroom with apologetic eyes, âI had cheerleading practice and it ran a bit late, so I didnât have enough time toââ
âSit, Ms Y/L/N,â the teacher hums, âif you have time to do any other activities other than being in class, Iâm sure youâll have time to stay after class for detention, am I right?â
âSir, I reallyââ
âI donât want to hear it.â
Now, are you seeing the difference in the way you and Sunwoo were treated? Thatâs 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, itâs quite difficult for him to keep it in.Â
And thatâs 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 wasnât the best idea, but it was enough to get him into detention alongside you.Â
His eyes get caught up with somethingâ someoneâ 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 wonât stop him from interrupting you in your task, though. Even betterâ 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 heâs not going to get caught, he throws the ball in your direction, aiming straight for your head.
He misses. Well, thatâs why he plays football and not volleyballâ he doesnât have good aim when it comes to his handsâ 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 âyouâre acting like a child again,â 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 heâs sent to you.
Only a few seconds pass before you throw the ball back to himâ 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.
canât. I promised Aeri Iâll hang out with her later. weâre going for frozen yogurt.
Sunwoo furrows his brows. Oh how he hates to be denied.Â
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. Itâs obvious that Sunwoo canât joinâ he knows it by the look in your eyes. Hell, he knew he wasnât invited even before he askedâ 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 canât really describe.
you couldâve gotten yours instead of staying in detention. what was that about, by the way?? Iâve 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 clearâ 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?
Donât ask. He hasnât thought it out that far yet.
I just like things to be fair. I came late too :((Â
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, thoughâ thatâs another thing.Â
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 theyâre all dismissed. Something in Sunwooâs stomach drops.Â
Sighing, he puts the note back into his pocket (and will forget to throw it out. Then, heâll find it there after a few days, unravel the ball and read over the letters with a smile. He wonât throw it out then eitherâ heâll 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 Aeriâ he understandsâ but thereâs still one more thing he needs to do.
Clearing his throat, Sunwoo approaches you from the back. âHey!â
âHi,â you hum, adjusting the bag on your shoulder. âAeriâs waiting for me outside, so I gottaââ
âWait, Iâ I have something for you,â 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 itâs not true and he doesnât 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.
âWhat?â you look at him, eyebrows furrowed, all confused. Sunwooâs not the one to give giftsâ sure, he pays for your meals sometimes, but thatâs only because you share them and he comes to the logical conclusion that he eats more of the portion than you do anyways, so itâs only fair.
âUm⌠well, my sister⌠she was making those bracelets yesterday and she made me do it with her, because sheâs really annoying when she wants to be,â he mumbles, fishing for the bracelet in the front pocket of his backpack, lying straight through his teeth.Â
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. âAnd, uh⌠we made too many, so I brought you one, because⌠youâre my friend, and all,â 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 heâs in court, waiting for his ordealâ anxiety making him bounce on the tips of his feet, his other hand clutching the strap of his backpack for dear life.Â
âDid you make that?â you ask, tone of voice genuinely appreciative.
âYeah,â he shrugs.Â
He did not.
âThatâsâ thatâs really cute,â 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.
âYeah,â he hums, not really knowing what to say.
âCan you tie it for me?â 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. Itâs 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.
Thereâs 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. Itâs like saying hey, this is my best friend! No one else enjoys their company enough to make a bracelet to prove it, but me. Itâs like a silent translation of the heartâs calling: this person is mine. Theyâre 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 yesterdayâ 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), heâs not quite certain when it comes to you.
In his mind, you smile like this at everyone. Youâre just that kind of person.
But oh does he wish you mirror Ericâs feelings on the matter. Oh does he hope you tell everyone he is the one who gave the bracelet to youâ he hopes you boost in front of your friends, tell them just how much you like it.
âŚmaybe his sister was right.Â
Maybe the bracelet had a deeper intention.
August 2007
âSo,â Sunwoo hums, taking a salty chip from the bowl settled in the middle of the table, looking over at you with a curious gaze, âhow have you been?â he asks, chewing as he waits for you to answer.
Itâs an easy question, one would thinkâ and itâs true, itâs not the most difficult thing to answer. But considering the circumstances, the fact that you and Kim Sunwoo havenât seen each other since you both graduated from high school, despite telling each other youâll stay in contact and see each other whenever you have the chance toâ it gets a little bit more difficult. Itâs been 6 years, many things have changed, you had your fair share of good things happening to you as well as the bad.Â
What do you tell Sunwoo, thoughâ a friend you lost somewhere along the way, much like everyone? Well, you canât really blame him for growing distant with youâ although to this day, you donât 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?Â
Itâs not your fault that you werenât as successful as you wanted to beâŚÂ
âWell, you know,â you shrug, âso and so. Many things happened, but I guess Iâm doing fine,â 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 hearâ 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 youâve had since you were young.
âWhat about you?â you ask quickly, shielding yourself from more interrogation. âHow did football go?âÂ
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. âDidnât really go as I planned,â he says, nodding to himself. âGuess I lost many years on it, but oh well. Canât really take it back now.â
âDonât say that,â you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek. The answer he offered you was not surprising to youâ not that you didnât believe in his abilities, not at all. Itâs just that by now, if Sunwooâs dreams came true, youâd be aware. Youâd hear about him everywhere. Youâd 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 wouldnât say you were keeping tabs on him, noâ you just cared enough to try to look for him in every place you could. âIt wasnât lost years. You did what you loved, and you tried your best.â
âI know,â he says, scrunching up his nose in an adorable manner before he sighs, âIâm just moping around. Besides, I quite like the life Iâve had since coming back home,â he admits.
âYou do?â you ask, eyes glimmering in the lights. Something in you shiftsâ moves to a more comfortable place at the information. Itâs strange that hearing that heâs doing fine still makes you feel at peace. Itâs been yearsâ you really shouldnât care by now.
âI do,â he nods, âI work at Juyeonâs fatherâs bakery now. I didnât really expect to like it, but thereâs something charming about it, Iâll have you know,â 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. âI wouldnât take you for a bakery kind of guy,â you say, âI canât really imagine you in the kitchen.â
âWell, times change, Y/N-ie,â 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, âIâm the best baker in town right now. People go crazy over my cinnamon rolls,â he nods, pointing a finger to you as if to prove his point.
âI find that hard to believe,â you squint at him, shaking your head in disbelief.
âYouâll have to come and find out,â he says, the sentence so casual that the contrast of his following statement has your heart drop a little, âwell, if youâre⌠staying around for a bit, of courseâŚâ
Humming, watching as his eyes soften at the shift in your composure, you nod in agreement. âIâll make sure to add that to my plan.â
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. âSo youâre staying around for a while?â he asks, a little bit cautious.Â
He doesnât really know how sensitive this topic is for youâ you donât even know if heâs aware of your previous whereabouts, if he knows where you left off to and whyâ 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. Itâs something youâve 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 someoneâs feelings. Heâs a spark of violent fire, but heâs also tamed like a fireplace when he wants to beâ warm, comfortable. Itâs easy to feel like itâs back in the old times when youâre around him. Itâs easy to pretend neither of you ever really left.
âI am,â you nod. âThings⌠didnât really work out for me either, yâknow,â you chuckle, the dry kind that shows just how bitter you are about the matter. âI went to New York with the internship my aunt arranged for me in KBS, but I guess I just⌠wasnât really good enough to keep full-time.â
âDonât say that,â Sunwoo mirrors your previous statement, an honest attempt at comforting you.
âNo, itâs okay,â you laugh, âI stayed abroad for a while, tried hard, but sometimes, itâs just not meant to be, yâknow? So after I realized my jobs werenât making me enough money for a decent living in the States, I came back home,â you say, mouth forming a pout as you speakâ the kind that shows youâre lost in thought, making up a plan as you go, âIâll help my parents out for a while and then look for something to do here, I think.â
âWell, that doesnât sound so bad,â Sunwoo says, offering you a soft smile. âI⌠I guess Iâd say itâs good to have you back,â he admits, averting his gaze as he says the words, âever since I came home, it felt like something was missing, so⌠anyways, youâll figure it out, so donât worry too much.â
âThanks, Sunwoo,â you hum, pressing your lips into a tight smile, heart squeezing a little at his sincerity. Itâs strangeâ itâs been years, having lived through countless different situations that were supposed to change the both of you, shift you into two completely different peopleâ 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.
âWould you want to⌠dance with me? I wanna see if you still remember what I taught you,â you grin, watching as the playful expression mirrors on your friendâs face, a nod eliciting from him that makes you quickly put your shoes back on and get ready for the dancefloor.
âOf course,â 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, âmy lady?â
to. my first dance
November 1999
âWho are you asking to the dance?â you question one afternoon, the two of you behind the closed doors of his room. There arenât many times where Sunwoo gets to invite you overâ mostly because heâs too shy to have someone around when his sister is home, and his sister isnât known to have that many friends to hang out withâ so the times where he finds you settled on top of the sheets of his bed, he treasures deeply.
âI dunno,â he mumbles, looking up at you from the comfort of his rug, shrugging, âI donât really think Iâm going, actually.â
âOh?â you gasp, pouting at the boy. âWhy not?â
âI donât really have anyone to go with,â he says. What he really means isâ youâre going with someone else. Sunwoo doesnât really see himself dancing with anyone else but youâ thatâs just that kind of bond you two have in his mind. Your friendship is dear to Sunwoo, and the boy canât think of anyone else heâd like to spend the evening with.Â
When his sister argued with him with logical words, telling him that he treasures his friendship with Eric just the same, but wouldnât invite him to the prom, he just scoffed at her. MB!Y/N doesnât know anything. He doesnât treasure Eric in the same way, no matter the fact that they pretty much grew up together. Some things just donât feel the same way with Eric as they do with you. He feels closer to you, in a way.
âWell, thatâs bullshit,â you scoff, shaking your head at your friend, âyouâre handsome. And you play football, which is every girlâs dream. I bet anyone would go with you if you just asked,â you propose, pointing a finger at the boy, not really noticing the way he blinks at hearing the words âyouâre handsomeâ coming out of your mouth in regards to him.Â
Do you find him handsome? Is that your subjective opinion or are you just objectively saying what youâve heard in the cheerleader changing rooms?Â
Heâd like to know. Just out of curiosity.
Sunwoo scratches the back of his neck in nerves, now fully seated and facing you. Itâs hard to meet your eye when he talks, his words coming out muffled. âI canât dance anyway, so it would be no fun for everyone involved.â
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 youâre both seniors, just for the recordâŚ). He would understand your point, then. Itâs 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.Â
But with Shotaro being the same age as him and the same amount of popular as him, Sunwoo canât help but compare himself to his classmate. What does Shotaro have that Sunwoo doesnât? Is it his smile? Should Sunwoo smile moreâŚ?Â
It doesnât really help his case that youâre going to the prom with the head of the dance team. Sunwoo canât dance⌠Is it the fact that he canât dance?
Or are you just going to the prom with Shotaro because he was the one to ask you to go? Sunwoo canât help but wonderâ would you have gone with him, had he the balls and asked you first?Â
âWhat do you mean, you canât dance?â you say, eyeing the male.Â
âJust⌠never learned to, I guess,â Sunwoo shrugs, âbut it doesnât really matter, since Iâm not going, soâŚâ
âBut you have to go,â you pout, putting the boy in a difficult position. He doesnât know if youâre aware of the fact, but your pleading look does wonders to his decision making. Heâd commit arson if you asked him to with those glimmers in your eyes. Heâd kill for you. Or die for you. Both, depending on the situation. Heâd do anything.
âWhy?â
âIt wonât be fun if youâre not there,â you say, sighing. Your face looks so genuine Sunwoo almost believes it. It makes his heart squeeze and contemplate his decision. âI know Donghyuck is gonna spike the punch, and there are gonna be fireworks,â you hum, chewing on the inside of your cheek, âand this is our senior prom, Sunwoo⌠you have to come.â
The words resonate in his brain, making him even more hesitant about his decision. This is your senior promâ 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 youâll 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 heâll 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 youâre right. Maybe he should go.Â
âIâll think about it, I guessâŚâ he mumbles, watching as your face morphs.
âYou guess?â you scoff, glaring at him. âYouâll go or Iâll personally come to your house and drag you there by your hair, you get me, Kim Sunwoo?â you threaten him, having the boy laugh at your outburst. Youâre really adorable when you tease him, Sunwoo thinks.Â
âGot it, chief,â he says, offering you a playful look as he salutes and lays back down onto the carpet, eyes pressed to the ceiling. âDonât expect me to dance, though, because I refuse to embarrass myself. I have quite the reputation to uphold, you see.â
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 youâre 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.Â
âWhat?â he asks, genuinely confused.
âIâm gonna teach you, come on,â you call him with a motion of your hand, arms still outstretched and waiting.
âHuh?â he squints, watching as you roll your eyes in frustration.
âIâll teach you how to dance, Sunwoo,â you snicker, watching as the boy slowly takes your hands and lets you drag him up from where heâs laying on his electric blue rug, âso you donât embarrass yourself.â
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. âNo- itâs- you donât have to, Iâll just-â
âOkay, so,â you say, dismissing all his previous attempts at stopping you from your quest, âfirst, you put your hand here,â you order.
The skin of your fingertips touches Sunwooâs hand, making the boyâs 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 itâs 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.Â
âAnd then you hold my hand with your other hand,â you instruct, but move to do it yourself when the boy doesnât seem to have it in him to reach for your palm himself.Â
Your fingers interlock with his, making the boy chew on his bottom lip in a sudden flash of nerves. Youâre 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, heâs sure heâd fall over, weak legs barely holding him up in your close proximity.Â
âSunwoo?â you ask, making the boy gulp before he hums in acknowledgement.
âYou have to look into my eyes when you slow dance,â you laugh, the sound soft and airy, but enough to have his stomach feel all weird, like heâs about to throw up. Still, he forces himself to look into your eyes, instantly feeling like youâre hypnotizing him. (Heâs convinced heâd jump out of his window right in this moment if you asked him to.)
âOkay,â 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 doesnât look at any other features of your faceâ 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.
âNow, you just⌠kind of sway to the beat,â you say. The boy nods, but his body stays unmoving.
âThereâs⌠thereâs no music playing,â he gets out, watching as you chuckle, your lips stretching out into an adorable grin.
âRight,â you nod, sighing, âwell, Iâll just⌠let me justâŚâ you mumble before you start humming a tuneâ one that makes Sunwoo laugh from how ridiculous it sounds, the notes so unfamiliar to him heâs sure youâre making it up as you go. Before he knows it, you start moving, making him mirror your actions.Â
Itâs 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 heâs 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 wonât be so badâ not if he gets to dance with you there for at least one more time.
âDoing well,â 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. Itâs 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. âSo you can either do this, or you canâŚâ the hand that was holding his suddenly untangles itself from between his fingertips (and Sunwooâs momentarily glad, because his palm was getting quite sweatyâ although he admits that it does feel empty now that youâre not holding it), before you place his other hand on your waist as well.Â
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 donât mention itâ he really doesnât know if he would be able to talk himself out of this one.
âOr you can do it like this,â you say before you lead the boy again, bodies swaying to an imaginary rhythm. Youâre not even humming this time, having Sunwoo follow your movements in complete silence, his aimless movements mirroring your own. Heâs surprised he hasnât 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 ordersâ step forward, close, then another step backwardsâ and before he knows it, youâre leading him into a gentle turn, rising and falling in a ž count.
Heâs getting lost in your voiceâ the softest â1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3,â helping him to stay in rhythmâ before heâs 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 heâs 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. âSee? Not that hard. Youâre a born natural.â
His heart feels like it skipped a beat, a weird sense of panic enclosing around his chest. He doesnât know what it is, not really knowing how to name the feeling, but it has him nervously smiling and urging him to escape youâ 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.Â
âHey! We werenât done yet!â you call after him when he runs towards the door of his room.Â
Not looking around, the boy gulps and nervously calls back to you, facing the door. âIâll be back! I just have to pee!â
The door to his bathroom closes behind him with a loud shut. The boy doesnât aim for the toiletâ instead, he walks over to the sink, turning on the tap and splashing his face with ice cold water. When heâs 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 surfaceâ 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 wellâ heâs not really good at making clever decisions half the time. Nobody can really be surprised.
Somewhere along the way between the moment heâs 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 heâs quite certain Eric can find his way home just fine, Sunwoo shivers at the thought of not bringing his sister home to his mother. Heâs not quite sure heâd survive that.Â
The quest of finding you both begins the moment the friend group reaches the top of the hill. Given his sisterâs impulsiveness, she couldâve ran away from home, and thatâs 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 friendâs 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. Itâs not quite where Sunwoo was aiming, but he figures itâs good enoughâ it stopped his sister and his friend in the act, and thatâs all he really cares about at this moment.
âEric Sohn, what the fuck do you think youâre doing with my sister?â 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 heâs been doing.
Itâs not like he disapproves. Not at all, actually. He just thinks itâs fun to mess with him a little.
âI didnât mean to! Hey!â 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.Â
One would think the group of them were making a snowman with how theyâre rolling the poor boy around in the snow. Juyeon and Donghyuck make sure thereâs not a hint of skin unhidden by the ice, making Eric mourn and kick aroundâ heâs left helpless, though, outpowered and outnumbered by his peers. If anyone unknowing was watching the scene, Sunwoo is sure heâd be framed for bullying.
He thinks itâs quite deserved. Why? Heâs not really sure why. He just has a hunch.
âOkay! Enough!â Eric mumbles, shaking his head when Donghyuck tries to fit snow into his mouth. âIâm sorry! It wonât happen again!â he says, eyes opening wide as MB!Y/N appears somewhere behind her older brother, a teasing pout settled on her face.
âIt wonât?â
âMB!Y/Nâ Iâ Just help me..?â 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 teammateâs shoulder, making sure heâs paying attention to him.
Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at him, waiting for what he has to say. âLook, isnât that Y/N?â
There are a few ways to catch Sunwooâs attention. Firstâ you have to mention football. He could spend hours on the topic of whoâs the best playerâ Ko Jongsoo or Ahn Junghwan? If anyone asked him to write an essay on it, heâs quite certain heâd do a great job explaining their techniques and goal statistics for numerous pages. Secondâ you have to mention food. Heâs a big fan of junk food, but ever since his friend Juyeon introduced him to their family bakery, heâs been a big cinnamon roll enthusiast. And thirdâ you have to mention Y/N.Â
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. Thereâs an almost bored-looking expression on your face, although Sunwoo thinks thereâs 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 offâ 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.
âY/N!â 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. Doesnât mean you didnât see him falter, though. âCareful there,â 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 heâs not embarrassed, it might as well come true. âWhat are you doing here? I thought you said youâre hanging out with someone else when I invited you on the phone today,â he says, curious to know why you changed your plans so suddenly.
Thereâs a hint of bitterness in your composure when you shrug, averting your gaze. âThat fell through, and I didnât wanna⌠I figured youâd be here, so I cameâŚâ you trail off, your half-assed explanation enough to bring the boy into an inner conflictâ 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.
âOh,â 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 didnât feel as awkward goingâ you wouldnât be the only girl there! Youâd 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⌠âWellââ 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.
âWould you wanna go on a date with me?â you ask, eyes big as you stare into his.Â
The question takes a few seconds to register in Sunwooâs 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 hemisphereâ maybe he could point towards the area with his finger if you asked him to, the impact of the question so present in his mindâ and then it decodes in the Wernickeâs area, slowly, but surely making more and more sense to him. The boy gulps at the invitation. He understands the question theoretically now, heâs registered it in his brain, but the practical implication of your preposition is still unclearâ why in the hell would you ask him to go on a date with you?
âIâŚâ he stutters, feeling heat rushing to his cheeks. He feels like a foolâ he shouldâve said yes a few seconds ago, when you first asked the questionâ 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.
âLook, itâs- itâs good if you donât want to, really, I just⌠I was supposed to go on a date with Shotaro today, but he never arrived, and IâŚâ you nervously scratch your neck, once again averting your gaze from him, âI guess I was hoping you were in the mood to go out with me, since I got all ready and stuffâŚâ you mumble, your tone of voice breaking something inside of him.
Oh. So you werenât really asking him out. You just didnât 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. âOf course! Donât even mention it. Where⌠where did you wanna go?â he asks, watching as your face relaxes, shoulders falling back to their natural position.
âAre you in the mood for some ramen?â you ask, eyebrows rising in question.
âIâm always in the mood for some ramen,â he nods. Heâs always in the mood for whatever you are.
âGreat,â you nod, chewing on the inside of your cheek.
âGreat.â
âSo⌠letâs go,â 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.
Thereâs a bit of an awkward silence hanging over you as the two of you escape the sledding area. Sunwoo doesnât 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 upâ how does he dare to ask you out and never arrive? He doesnât care about the possible circumstances of his classmateâs absence. All he cares about is the saddened look on your face and the unusual quietness enveloping your aura.Â
âShould I go kick his ass?â he asks, trying his hardest to make you feel better.
âItâs okay, Sunwoo,â you shake your head in disapproval, eyes pressed to the ground.
âAre you sure?â he asks again, not satisfied with your answer. âIâm quite good at fighting, contrary to popular belief, but if things go wrong, I know my friends would have my back,â he says, playfully punching the air.
The little play consisting of him kicking and punching an imaginary figure goes on for a while until heâs satisfiedâ meaning: until youâre 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.
Sunwooâs heart beats fast at that, making him believe itâs going to run out of his chest any minute nowâ or make him go into cardiac arrest, either orâ as he grows speechless, looking at you with big, surprised eyes. You donât 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.Â
Heâs never held hands with you beforeâ if he doesnât 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 afternoonsâ and so the intimacy of the act makes him feel strangely weak in his knees. Itâs 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.
âItâs okay,â you smile, sending him a quick glance, âI didnât really like him like that anyway. It just⌠feels a bit disappointing to get stood up, thatâs all,â you nod.
Sunwoo nods at that too, something in him shifting. You donât like Shotaro like that? When was this piece of information when he really needed it? (For like the last month, every time he couldnât 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 leaderâs eyes out?)
âI get it,â 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 youâre all dolled up and holding his hand in your coat pocket makes him all giddy on the insideâ no matter if this is a real date or not.
Because screw it, Kim Sunwoo is tired of reminding himself that heâs supposed to only see you as a friend. Because he doesnât.
âIâve never been on a date before, though, so you have to teach me all about that too,â he hums, tonguing the inside of his cheek.Â
That has a giggle escaping your throat, another shake of your head in disbelief at his words. He doesnât know whatâs so funny, but he decides that as long as youâre laughing, heâs fine with feeling the tiniest bit of humiliation. Heâd do anything to make you happy, he thinks. Itâs a feeling stronger than him and he doesnât know how to make it go awayâ he decided to stop battling it a long time ago.
âJust be yourself, Sunwoo,â you say, âthatâs already perfect enough.â
Perfect. Sunwooâs cheeks grow hot at that. Heâs happy that itâs cold outâ maybe he could blame his blushing on the weather. The boy isnât so sure you know about the effect your words have on him. Heâs always thought of you as perfectâ flawless, funny, friendly, smart, kind and⌠and beautifulâ but the adjective doesnât quite seem fitting when he looks at himself in the mirror. He doesnât believe you could hold him to such standards. Heâs nothing special. God, he knows heâs not good enough for youâ still, he keeps wishing he could be.Â
âYou look really pretty, by the way,â 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.
âYou donât have to say that just because youâre on a date with me,â 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 heâs not so sure you wouldnât recognise the tender inkling he has towards you in his longing gaze.)
âIâm not saying it because of that,â he mutters, voice quiet, yet honest.Â
Watching the side of your face, eyes still glued at every feature of your profile, he knows heâs 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. Itâs kind of silly, if he really thinks about it.
Still, he canât help himself. To this day, he counts the afternoon he spent with you, eating ramen at your favorite place, to be the first date heâs ever gone on.
Somewhere in the corner of his soul, he begs you count it as real too.
August 2007
Itâs only a couple of days later when you find yourself in front of Juyeonâs fatherâs 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 youâre 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 youâre welcomeâ who knows, Sunwoo might have just been acting nice and civil for the sake of not ruining his sisterâs weddingâ you prepared a mental shopping list of things you wanted to get at the bakery. You hadnât 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, youâll take it as your sign to act like one and let this whole thing go.Â
Truth be told, you donât even know why youâre so nervous. Itâs not like youâre promising yourself something more from this⌠right?Â
Itâs not like you suddenly felt younger again when seeing him at the wedding. Itâs not like the memories choked you up when you went to sleep that night, itâs 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.Â
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 youâre soon greeted by the sound of the staff door opening, a tall figure stumbling in with a tray of pastries, yelling out a quick: âIâll be right there!â
And as you watch Sunwoo with his bangs sticking to his forehead, an apron tied tightly around his thin waist, you feel like he hasnât 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 heâs been using to shield his skin from the heat to the side, greeting you.
âY/N! Itâs nice seeing you again,â he beams, wiping his hands on his apron, gaze gluing to yours and never leaving, capturing you in a sincere eye contact that you donât have the heart to break.
âHi, Sunwoo,â you chuckle, pressing your lips into an honest, yet a little bit awkward smile. âHowâs it going?â you ask, desperate to keep the conversation goingâ afraid that if it dies down, you wonât be able to revive it ever again and youâll just regret it forever. Thereâs a weird sense of urgency in you, like you have a time limit to figure everything outâ like you have to act now, or everything you ever wanted might slip from between your fingertipsâ yet, the more you watch Sunwoo in the serene atmosphere of the sweet-smelling bakery, you notice yourself relaxing.
âGood! Better now that youâre here, actually, itâs been a slow day,â he muses, nodding to himself. âWhat about you? Can I get you anything?â he asks, eyebrows raising, round cheeks on full display as he stares at you with an expecting smile.
âIâm doing well,â you nod, humming, âreally well⌠catching up with my parents, settling in and stuff⌠You know the deal,â you laugh. âI 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,â you say, watching as Sunwoo urgently nods with acknowledgement.
âSay less, darling,â 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. âYour mum loves these ones,â he points towards the donuts coated with the pink glazing.
Itâs kind of weirdâ 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 didnât stop. Everyone moved on with their lives, everyone continued on as if nothing happened. And you canât hold it against themâ 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 sheâs at it), you donât.
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 youâd likeâ 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.
âYou came in on the right day,â Sunwoo hums, âJuyeon works tomorrow, so you wouldnât be able to catch me if you went.â
Ignoring the fact that he sees right through youâ 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 youngâ you just chuckle. You canât 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 thereâs always a hint of truth, even in the most lovesick fantasies. âWell, then Iâm glad I went in today,â you admit.
Sunwoo smiles at thatâ 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 heâs 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 heâs facing you again, thereâs a sweet pastry in his hand, still warm.
âWhatâs that?â you ask when you notice him offering it to you, eyes peering into his.
âA cinnamon roll,â he says, waiting for you to take it into your hands, âI told you everyone goes crazy over my cinnamon rolls, so I wanna see if their magic works on you too.â
âIs this how you flirt with girls over here?â 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.Â
âHavenât tried it before,â he shrugs, âso tell me if itâs working,â he jokes, watching as you chew on the roll.Â
âWell, is it any good?â
Humming in satisfaction, delight on the tip of your tongue as you swallow down the heavenly dough, you nod. âItâs to die for, Sunwoo.â
âTold you,â 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, âIâll get you some more to take home with you. I bet they didnât have those in the Big Apple.â
âIf I knew I was missing out on these, I would have come back quicker,â 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). âHow much do I owe you?â you ask.
âOh, itâs on the house,â he says, licking his lips, âconsider it a⌠welcome gift, if you will,â 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.
âNo, Sunwoo, I really canât-â you shake your head, but get caught off by him.
âTake them, please. You can pay me back some⌠other time?â he cautiously says, seemingly not really knowing if heâs still within your desired boundaries.Â
âO-okay, then,â you nod, agreeing to the subtle invitationâ the subtle promise to meet again, the hopeful question leading into something more. âThank you, Sunwoo,â 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.
âOh and Y/N?â he says, a confident look suddenly overtaking his features. âI end here at 5, if youâd like to hang out after.â
Unknowingly, a grin appears on your features, the one thatâs so strong you canât really mask it no matter how hard you tryâ as you nod at him, the victorious feeling flowing through your veins maybe even a bit dangerous. Still, you donât have it in you to turn the invitation downâ you wouldnât be able to even in your wildest dreams.
This is what you came here for, after all, isnât it?
âOkay,â you agree. âSo⌠Iâll see you later?â
âSee you later,â he nods, teeth capturing his bottom lip. Itâs kind of adorable. He couldnât battle the smile threatening to pull at the corners of his mouth, no matter how hard he tried.
Maybe coming hereâ coming back homeâ was the best thing you couldâve done.
âWanna come in?â Sunwoo asks. Itâs a few hours laterâ 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 motherâs car (is it still hers? You have no way of knowing.) in the driveway, and suddenly, youâre too shy to join him as he drops his stuff off in his house.
Itâs like youâre a teenager againâ 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 timesâ 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 youâre gonna marry him, and you laughed at her back thenâ you were so young, you didnât even think of having a wedding with Kim Sunwoo. The funniest thing was the timing: you werenât 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 didnât often cross your mind. Life is ironic, you thinkâ MB!Y/N was the first one to have a wedding and here you are, retangling your life paths with her brother again.Â
So no, you were never really scared or shy in front of his mother. Back then, things were different though. Simpler? Youâd 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 didnât want to give her any ideas. Itâs far too soon for that, you think.Â
âNo,â you shake your head, hesitating a little bit, âIâll wait for you here,â you say, watching as he smiles at you and nods, walking inside of the house to drop off his things and change.
You two didnât 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 youâ 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. Sunwooâs house was always bigâ although it seemed more giant to you when you were a teenager. Itâs a strange observation, since you didnât 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 youâd play on your Tamagochi, making sure it doesnât die in two days like his did when he first got it. When you turn to your right, you see the garden house you twoâ sometimes with his sister, sometimes with Eric, sometimes with both of them at onceâ spent many afternoons in.
There used to be an old, red sofa inside. There wasnât much space, since it was filled with gardening supplies, Sunwooâs and MB!Y/Nâs 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 itâs still the same inside. Your eyes widen when you notice the garden house a little less packed than beforeâ mainly because Sunwooâs mother no longer does gardening in her free time and buys her vegetables on the market like your mum does, you presumeâ but instead, itâs full of all the things the childhood you knew so well.
Sunwooâs old bikeâ 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 equipmentâ 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 Sunwooâs composure when he told you about how he never got to pursue his childhood dream fully.Â
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.
âDo you think I still got it?â 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.Â
âYou scared me,â you breathe out, clutching your chest for good measure, to show him how much you really mean itâ 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) wasnât the reason for the little heart attack.
âSo did you!â he exclaims. âI got outside and didnât see you there, I thought you ran away for a second,â he hums.
âAs if,â you mumble, âI walked all the way here, why would I leave so suddenly?â
âI dunno,â he shrugs, âyou couldâve changed your mind, or something,â 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 donât really change, but you really wish at least this wouldâve.
Smiling at him, you shake your head. âI donât think you still got it, though,â you go back to reply to his initial question, pointing towards the skateboard.
âWell, who knows,â he peeps, âmaybe I could do an Ollie, or something.â
âI really donât think you could, Sunwoo,â you laugh softly, watching him regain his statement competitiveness.
âWanna bet?â
âNo,â you shake your head, âI donât want you to break your bones, so letâs just say I believe you,â you giggle, watching as the boy mirrors your expression, his gaze softening.Â
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 itâs been years since anyoneâs sat on it, and youâre glad to be the one revisiting its comfort. Itâs like solidifying your returnâ like the old piece of forgotten furniture in Sunwooâs garden house is the spawn point of your childhood. âDoesnât this make you nostalgic?â you ask, eyeing your companion.
âWell, I live here,â he shrugs, âso not as much as it makes you, I suppose. Having you here again makes it more nostalgic, though, Iâll give you that.â
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.Â
âItâs weird,â you allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of him, the essence of him being your best friendâ your first love, the first person you ever felt safe withâ overtaking you in the moment of weakness, âitâs like everybody moved on, but I stayed here.â
âWell, not everybody moved on,â Sunwoo hums, referring to himself. âJuyeon stayed, too. Eric and MB!Y/N are moving only a few hours away⌠Haknyeon lives down the street now,â he points out, a poor attempt at making you feel better.
âYeah⌠itâs just⌠I hoped I would do big things. I hoped we would both do big things,â you say, tone of voice quiet, your eyes avoiding him. Itâs hard to keep eye contact with him when you share your strugglesâ at least thatâs 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 canât afford to tear up in front of your ex-boyfriend anymore.
âSometimes, things donât work out the way we want them to,â Sunwoo says, tone of voice considerate. âAnd thatâs fine. I wanted to be a star, and Iâm not, but thatâs okay, because hey⌠Iâm happy anyway. Iâm content. And I know that one day, youâll be too. It just takes a bit of time.â
Snickering, you play with your fingers in your lap, legs plopping up and crossed, striking an almost defensive pose. âWere you⌠were you embarrassed when you came back?â you ask.
Sunwoo laughs, the sound so heartfelt it makes your insides squeeze. âTerribly. 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 thatâs still something to be proud of.â
âIâm still living with my mother, but heyâ sheâs getting older and the house is big. MB!Y/N moved out, and I wouldnât want my mum to get lonely⌠so I think Iâm doing pretty well, given the circumstances,â he says. Pausing for a heartbeat, as if collecting his thoughts, he continues. âI think you should find the positives in your situation too. Not everyone got to live in New York... Work for the national TV⌠Thatâs still a huge achievement, and I think you should be proud of yourself for that.â
Rolling your eyesâ although grateful to hear the wordsâ you snicker. âItâs hard to do that right nowâŚâ
âI know,â he nods, smiling when you finally look at him. âIt takes time. And until then, well, for what itâs worth, Iâm really proud of you. And maybe⌠maybe you coming back home is how lifeâs supposed to go anyways.â
Biting down on your lower lip to stop yourself from tearing upâ see, you knew you shouldnât have looked the boy in the eyes during his little pep talkâ thereâs suddenly a weight leaving your shoulders, heart softening and growing more tender. Your wounds seem to sting a little less. Itâs strangeâ even after so many years, he still knows just the words you need to hear.
âYeah,â you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper, a soft smile playing with your lips, âmaybe.â
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. âSunwoo! I told you to watch the oven! What if the cookies burn?â
âYeahâŚâ he mumbles, not a single word coming out of your mouth truly registering in his brain.
âSunwoo!â 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 havenât 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.
âYou shit on Eric for watching those, but youâre just as bad,â you hum as you notice the kdrama going on in the TV. Itâs 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 charactersâ and although he is busy with football practice nowadays, he doesnât skip a single episode of Happy Together.Â
Itâs not as entertaining as the manga comics he borrows from Hyunjaeâs fatherâs comic shop, but he figures that itâs good enough to pass some time⌠and indulge over.
âI think theyâre gonna kiss,â he notes, pointing towards the screen.
âOh, good point, Sherlock Holmes,â you sigh, shaking your head in disbelief. If there was something youâd expect out of your friend, it seemingly wasnât his enjoyance of cheesy dramas that air in the afternoon hours of the week.Â
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 Ericâ he was not the one to watch romantic comedies, he wasnât the one to tell girls cheesy lines or bring them flowers on Valentineâs 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 otherâs lips. It doesnât 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 heâs reacting. None of the two are true, though.
âOh, wow,â you hum next to him, seemingly not really interested in the drama as much as your best friend is.
âYouâre ruining it,â Sunwoo sighs, looking at you as you roll your eyes and settle deeper into the couch cushions.Â
âOh, sorry,â you note, but your composure stays a bit annoyed.Â
Sunwoo watches the TV for some moreâ the scene of the two characters kissing stays on the screen, slowed-down and repeated, in the true 90s TV show fashionâ before his eyes trail off the device and move towards you, glazing your side profile. He takes notice of your casual attireâ 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.
âHave you ever kissed anyone before?â he asks, genuinely curious. He doesnât even know why the response matters to him so muchâ he also doesnât really know what reply heâd like to hear better, if heâs being honestâ but now itâs out in the open and he canât take it back.
âHm?â you hum, snapping your head towards him. âOh. Yeah, I guessâŚâ
âYou guess..?â Sunwoo repeats, furrowing his brows. How can one not be sure?Â
âWellâ yeah. It only happened once, though,â 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. Itâs not his business and he shouldnât even care in the first place⌠He canât say heâs disappointed in your answerâ itâs your life and your decisionsâ but something inside of him screams that now, he canât be your first no matter how hard heâd try. (Itâs not like youâd want to kiss Sunwoo anyway, so he really doesnât know why heâs making such a big deal about it.)
âWhat about you?â you ask, the question catching the poor boy off guard. He didnât necessarily expect you to ask him backâ so much to his title of Sherlock Holmesâ and the reality that he canât lie to you takes him out in full force as he bashfully stares out of the window.
âNo,â he peeps, chewing on the inside of his cheek.
Thereâs something embarrassing about admitting to the girl you like that even at the ripe age of 19, youâve 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.
âReally?â you ask, and you sound genuinely surprisedâ thereâs a hint of Sunwooâs ego recovering, but he thinks the hit was too hard for him to ever recover.
âYup,â 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.
âI thoughtâ nevermind,â you hum, scratching the back of your neck, âwhy are you asking?â
âJust⌠just curious, I guessâŚ?â he stummers, shrugging.Â
A moment of silence overtakes you twoâ enough to make the boy instantly hate everything heâs ever said on the matter. If there could open up a hole in the ground right now to swallow him, heâd jump in with much enthusiasm. Why did he have to ask?
âDo you wanna try?â you suddenly propose, making the boyâs 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. âI meanâ you donât have to, but I⌠I wouldnât mind, and itâsâ I donât know⌠if you wanted to practice with me, or something, Iâd be down toâŚâ 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 itâs there, heâs scared to actually play with it, because he doesnât want to break it. Much like your friendship, he thinks. Thereâs too much to lose if he crosses this line, and heâs very much aware.Â
But the offer seems tempting. Almost too tempting. God, he doesnât think he could say no.
He may not be your first kiss, but youâre asking to be his. This sounds like a dream, if he really thinks about it.
âYou know what? Just forgetââ
âIâdâ Iâd like thatâŚâ he mumbles, trying really hard not to avert his gaze from you.
Your gaze softens, nodding your head. âYeah?â
âYeah,â he agrees.
âOkay,â 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. âAre you sure? You donât have to do it just becauseââ
âIâm sure,â he cuts you off, watching as your face relaxes, a smile appearing on your lips at the next addition. âI want to.â
âOkay.â
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.Â
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 youâre 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 youâre testing the waters, and although the feeling is unfamiliar, Sunwoo decides he doesnât hate it.
The weird firework show in his stomach actually suggests that heâs 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 itâs 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.Â
âYou know you can kiss back, right?â
âMhm,â he hums, opening his eyes to see you staring at him with a tender look.
âTry it,â 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 theyâd 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 donât lie. They never do. Thereâs no one else that could make him feel the way you do.
âOkay,â he nods, moving in his position so heâs facing you, ready for more.Â
He mirrors your previous motions, leaning towards your face. He wets his lips and closes his eyes when heâs sure heâs 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 heâs 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. Heâs not sure if heâs doing this correctlyâ hell, heâs never done this beforeâ 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 thatâs 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. âLike that?â he asks, shamelessly staring at your wet lips, already yearning for more.
âSomething like that,â you nod, giggling. âYou still need more practice, though,â you suggest, making the boy frown.
âWas it that baââ
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 Sunwooâs senses focused on you and only you. He could get lost in the way you tasteâ like strawberry bubblegum you bought at the store on the corner of the streetâ and the way you feel against himâ soft, tender, warm.
He feels like he could burst. He knows his hands are a bit sweaty, but heâs 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 practiceâ 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.
Heâs glad heâs sitting down, because heâs 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. Heâd love to engrave this image into his memories forever.
Although, heâs 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: âSunwoo! We forgot about the cookies!â,
he wonders just what more you could teach him about life. Heâd follow you to the end of the world if you asked him to, holding your hand in his and not thinking twice. Heâd bring you down a star, if you only so expressed you would like one. Heâd do anything.Â
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 danceâ even though you spent the prom with someone else. Just now, you taught him how to kiss.
And although youâre unaware, heâs quite certain that when heâs 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 donât 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. Itâs not like you donât have anything else to ground yourself back to, but somehow, your inner voice always keeps calling for Sunwoo. Itâs weirdâ itâs been ages and you shouldnât feel like this around someone who you havenât even properly dated for that long, if you donât count the few months before he leftâ but itâs something you canât control, an essence you canât hold back.Â
âY/N,â he calls for you, âwhat are you doing here?â he asks as he continues his routinal cleaning, putting the broom away behind the counter.Â
Itâs a stupid question. You bet he realizes it too, but youâre somehow glad he is taking initiative. This way, you donât have to be the first one to spark the conversation. This way, you know youâre welcome.Â
âOh, well,â you shrug, âIâm⌠looking for youâŚ?â you say, tone of voice suggesting that youâre hesitant, almost a little shy to admit it to yourself.Â
Maybe youâre foolish for feeling this way. Because you know what all those things meanâ 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, isnât an usual occurrence with someone you pay no attention to, with someone you donât care about. Youâve been in love beforeâ with the same man thatâs standing right in front of you as well, funnily enough. You know what this all means.
But with how heâs inviting you in, letting you into his little bubble, you think itâs not as bad of a thing. Heâs not pushing you away. Heâs not building bridges. Heâs the same way he was all those years ago, and youâd hate to find out that all of this wasnât something more and was just him being nice.
âWell, thatâs good to hear,â he chuckles, wiping his hands on the apron still tied around his waist. âIâm off in a few, though, so if you want anything from the bakeryââ
âIâm not here for the food,â you laugh, dismissing him with a wave of your hand. The boldness is unusual for the present youâ thereâs 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 againâ maybe you like to feel like yourself. Itâs hard to admit it, but you did lose your sense of identity after moving abroad. Itâs 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 defaultâ to where youâre supposed to be.
âOkay, then,â he nods, thankfully not making a big deal out of your desperate visit, âwhat would you like to do?â he asks, eyes sparkling under the lights when he looks at you. Itâs like an open invitationâ he gives you the chance to tell him how youâd 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 youâ no matter how disinterested he could be in the matter.
âHang out⌠I guessâŚ?â you hum, shrugging. You didnât really have anything planned. All you knew was that you wanted to be with him. Itâs like the heartâs callingâ you donât know when your inner monologue got so cliche.
âAnything specific?â 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 wayâ you came all the way here, after all. You couldâve made something up on the way, couldnât you? But stillâ just like the Sunwoo you once knew, so lively and full of ideasâ he just purses his lips for a second before speaking the suggestion into existence.
âWell⌠do you want to bake with me? Like the old times?â he says, sending you a look full of warm honey.
You wouldnât say no to that invitation. Youâd be crazy to do so.
The Kim Sunwoo you used to bake cookies with in the comfort of your kitchen back home wasnât so skilled in making the dough like he is now. He wasnât 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 donât really know if he even had the love for baking in him back thenâ you just know you two enjoyed your time together, and when you are young, thatâs all you really cared about anyway. It didnât matter that he let the cookies burn sometimes. It didnât really matter that they didnât turn out well on some daysâ 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.Â
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 youâre with him, you no longer feel the distance between who you are and who you used to be, the distance between you and him. Itâs 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. âYou have to add more sugar,â Sunwoo hums from next to you, watching as you work on the mixture.
âIsnât it funny how I was the one always giving you directions when we baked together and now youâre the one ordering me around?â you laugh, taking the sugar from the counter and sprinkling more in, listening to the opinion of a professional.
âWell, my cookies donât turn into one big blob of dough anymore,â he jokes, laughing. âBesides, itâs my job now, so youâd kind of expect me to be good at it.â
âYou canât be so sure of thatâŚâ you hum, shaking your head.
âWhy? Do you have any experience with being bad at your job?âÂ
âOh you bet I do,â you laugh, nodding. âI 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 wasnât that big of a deal, but I still cried myself to sleep multiple nights,â you conclude, thinking back to your New York endeavors.
âThat bad?â Sunwoo asks empathetically.
âYeah. Mixed up everyoneâs coffee order on my first day. When I was confronted about it, I tried to play it off by saying I donât have a good memoryâŚâ you muse.
âWell, itâs hard to remember a lot of stuff at once, to be fairââ
âI was getting coffee for three people, Sunwoo. Objectively speaking, it shouldnât be as hardâŚâ 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. âNot 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.â
The boy takes over at making the dough once itâs 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. âThatâs actually hilarious,â you get out, washing your hands in the sink. âWhat about some funny stories about yourself, though?â
âDonât have any. Iâm too perfect to humiliate myself like that,â he notes, pressing his lips together and raising his eyebrows at you in an ironic expression, nodding.
âOh, as ifââ
âHow is it?â 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. Youâd do it all the time when you were both teenagers, but back then, the gesture didnât 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. Sunwooâs eyes darken, as if heâs just realized what heâs 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 didnât expect from tonight.
âGood,â you nod, licking your lips, âdelicious.â
Seconds turn to what feels like eternities as you stop all motion and look into each otherâs 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 canât 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 youâve never tasted anything sweeter than Sunwooâs 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 dĂŠja vu this action brings you. It feels like yesterday, yet also centuries ago since you last kissed the male, and although youâre sure you enjoyed it back then, you wish you couldâve told the younger you to kiss him more often, more firmly, with more passion, maybe even sooner. For longer.Â
Pressing your lips against his first, almost like alwaysâ since Kim Sunwoo was a bit shy with his kisses when you were both just high school seniorsâ your eyes shut close and everything around you disappears. You guess thereâs something about baking that makes the two of you want to feed off each otherâs lipsâ except this time, itâs not practice anymore. Itâs not innocent, itâs not clueless. This time, itâs real, alive and passionate. You canât say you hate the sentiment, the weird parallel your relationship has come to. Itâs like youâre reliving your life again, but this time, you know how the story endsâ you know how to fix the ending. How to keep him here.
Sunwooâs more experienced than he was when you kissed him for the first time. Heâs 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 timeâ you let him take you home, bring your mind to where itâs 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 youâ 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.Â
You know him like the palm of your hand. Itâs easy to get lost in something you are so familiar with, in someone that was once your everything. Itâs 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.Â
Youâre enjoying the shift in the dynamic. Youâre enchanted with the way he handles you, like heâs 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 âGodâŚâ slips past your mouth.
âI missed you,â he says, words muffling against your skin, âI missed you so much, I felt like I was going crazy.â
The confession makes you dizzy, your whole body growing weak. Itâs like he knows exactly what words you wanted to hear. Itâs 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. Itâs like he knows exactly how to get you close to him, to have you completely let go of the past.Â
âI missed your jokes,â he says, planting a kiss on your neck. âI missed your smile,â he presses another one a little more up, âI missed your laugh,â another kiss, now on your jaw. âI missed holding your hand,â a peck planted to the corner of your lips, âand I missed kissing youâŚâ 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.
Sunwooâs 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. Youâre barely registering the bowl of dough to your right, the fact that youâre in the kitchen of Juyeonâs parentâs 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 himâ 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 otherâ 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 whatâs happening, a familiar voice calls for you, their tone a little guilty and bashful.Â
âOh, I didnât mean to interrupt, or anythingââ Juyeon peeps, clearing his throat.Â
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 canât help but try to hide your face into his shoulderâ itâs not like youâre embarrassed of being with Sunwoo, youâre just embarrassed that it had to happen here, of all places.
âWell, you just did,â Sunwoo grunts, frustration coating his words.
âIâm just here to grab something,â 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. âThis is gonna go bad soon, so Iâm taking it home to use it. Uhm.. anyways, well, donât let me stop you in anything⌠bye!â
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 youâd like to continue what you started, you donât think now is the right time or place.
Hopping off the counter, you smile. âSo⌠where were we with the cookies?â
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 shootersâ either Donghyuck or Jinyoung, the more capable ones of the teamâ Sunwoo finds himself completely focused on the game. Itâs one of the last matches of the season, and since he doesnât know if heâs ever going to play his favorite sport againâ he hasnât received a verdict on the university applications he sent yetâ the boy figures he should enjoy each game like itâs the last. Because who knowsâ one day, it may as well be, and if heâs not prepared for it, if he has any regrets, he knows heâll take it harder than heâs supposed to.
Kim Sunwooâs position in football is midfielder. While Eric once told him that itâs a loser position, since heâs not the shooter and he doesnât score many goals (which is a lieâ the boy had him know he scored his fair share despite his defensive position on the field), Sunwooâs grown to love it. Heâs the one thatâs supposed to counter all attacks on his teammates. Heâs the one that runs after the ball and passes it to the shooters, so technically, heâs 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.Â
Sunwoo loves football. Heâd say his first love is football, but something inside of him keeps telling him that thatâs a lie (donât ask him why. Itâs a secret.). Itâs the first game heâs ever been exceptionally good at, the first thing he could do for periods longer than a few weeks. Heâs 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 timeâ 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. Itâs good to have an escape, something to keep his mind occupied. He doesnât 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. Itâs what he enjoys, what he loves. Itâs what heâs good at.Â
Itâs strange to imagine a time when he wouldnât play football. He doesnât even want to imagine it in the first placeâ it makes a chill run down his spine and an unsettling feeling churn in his stomach. In a perfect world, heâs always a football player.
Everyone keeps telling him he could easily make it professional, if he tried.Â
Football is how he met most of his friends. Itâs how he met Juyeonâ 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. Itâs how he met Donghyuck and Jihoon (before the latter dropped out of the team after a few months). Itâs how he met you.Â
His coach always warned the players about dating the cheerleaders. For his coach, it wasnât right to do soâ it would throw off the dynamic of the game. âNobody wants their ex to stare at them during their game!â the coach had saidâ not even thinking of the possibility of any of those teenage romances to last. Sunwoo only laughed back then. It wasnât something he should be afraid ofâ 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 jerseyâ 03â 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 canât even remember when the feelings he had for you morphed into adoration. He doesnât know when they shifted Into absolute enchantment, or Into a silly crushâ he doesnât 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. Thereâs something akin to an angry face playing with the manâs features, and Sunwoo imagines itâs because of the very clear lead his team has on them. Sunwoo makes sure he doesnât slip as he tackles the opposing playerâ he swears he heard someone call the shooter Jaechanâ and as soon as he secures the ball, Sunwoo aims to forward it to his teammate.
The screams resonating all around himâ although he tries hard to filter them out to focus on the game completelyâ suggest that itâs only a few moments before the game is over. It wouldnât matter even if they didnât score the goal, but something inside of Sunwooâs 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.
âCome on!â 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 thatâs why he liked the boy so much in the first placeâ Sunwoo didnât 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 Donghyuckâs humor. He found himself grateful to have a friend so funny. He made even losing feel like it wasnât such a big deal.)Â
Choosing the golden shooter proved to be a good idea once againâ 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 Sunwooâs team winning 4:1.
Everyone cheersâ 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 otherâs backs and complimenting each otherâs play.Â
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 teamâs colorsâ blue and gold. Over-all, you look ecstatic.
Sunwoo finds himself running over to you before he even registers that heâs going to do it. Heâs like a fast, unguided missile, the goal of getting to you as fast as possible being the only thing resonating through his excited mind.
âGood jo-â 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. Itâs like a runner's highâ he feels like right now, he is capable of everything.Â
âOkay! Okay! Put me down!â you laugh when you start to get a little dizzy. The boy complies, since heâs 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.Â
âWe won!â he cheers, the brightest grin settling to his lips as he announces the obvious.Â
You beam at him, eyes soft and crinckled into little moon crescents, a dumbfounded smile playing with your features. âI know, Sherlock,â you dismiss him again with the teasing nickname, shaking your head in disbelief, âI was here. Cheering for you,â you say.
And sure, Sunwoo knows that by you, you donât necessarily mean him in particularâ more like cheering for the whole team, the whole 11 players on the fieldâ but something about the sentiment makes his stomach feel all light and a slight blush spread over his glowing cheeks. You were hereâ cheering for him (and his team) â and although youâre 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 routineâ 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 thinksâ almost like youâre supposed to be there all the time. He should hug you more often, he decides. Sunwoo foolishly finds himself focusing onto your lipsâ he blames the shiny lipgloss you put on todayâ the words coming out of your mouth not quite registering in his brain. âAs I was saying, good job! The whole team, but you especially. Donât tell anyone, but I think you really shined in this game. Iâm really prouââ
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 gestureâ he was always too shy to initiate something with you, too hesitant to even touch you sometimesâ but the euphoria is still playing with his senses, clouding his brain. He doesnât think of consequences.
He canât control himself anymore. Itâs been weeks since you two kissed for the first timeâ exactly 4 and a half weeks since you taught him how to do soâ and since that afternoon, he found himself thinking about it every single day, every single minute, all. The. Time. You two havenât spoken about it since, making the poor boy a little disappointed, but he respected your decision. He knew that you didnât particularly reciprocate his feelings, but he still expected your dynamic to shift. At least a little bit.Â
And although he shouldâve been glad nothing changed and your friendship didnât crumble because of a simple kiss, he found himself desiring to kiss you every time he saw your face.Â
You peer at him with eyes wide open, mouth a little agape. Sunwoo doesnât really know how to read your reactionâ you didnât look particularly happy, but you also didnât push him awayâ and so in the moment of panic, he begins to backtrack, his arms untangling from your sides.
âI- Iâm sorry if I overstepped any boundary, or if Iââ
Youâre 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 lipsâ more firmer than the one he dared to give you, a little bit longer, yet still sweetly short. Thereâs something soft and gentle in your gaze when you pull away and press another peck onto his faceâ the tip of his nose this timeâ and Sunwoo almost physically feels his knees turning into jello, his own celebratory firework show erupting in the pits of his stomach.
âSo, as I was saying,â you hum, hugging the boy around his neck, âyou did well. You looked good out there,â you peep, the sparks in your eyes making Sunwooâs 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 Sunwooâs 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 heâs supposed to sleep over at your house. Your parents decided to take a trip to your auntâs place for two days, so you invite the boy into the comfort of your home for the weekendâ as far as Sunwooâs mother is concerned, heâs sleeping over at Juyeonâs. He doesnât have the boy covering him, but heâs also sure his mother wonât try to check if heâs telling her the truth. Heâs not banned from having a girlfriendâ he just doesnât 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.Â
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 laughâ 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.
âIs everything alright?â you ask.Â
âHm?â Sunwoo hums, lost in thought. âOh, yeah,â he nods, âdonât worry.â
You donât 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. âYou can tell me,â you hum, âboyfriends and girlfriends are supposed to tell each other things.â
Boyfriends and girlfriends. Sunwoo feels himself soften under the possessive title. It has been close to 4 months of you datingâ starting with the winning match in April, progressing slowly through the summer breakâ but the fact that youâre 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 heâs been told the greatest news of his life.Â
Maybe itâs the nature of this sentiment that has him slowly unraveling to you. And maybe, itâs because heâd tell you anywaysâ youâd be the first to know. He was just waiting for the right time to bring it up.
âThe reply to my university application came in the mail this morningâŚâ 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. âAnd?â you ask, an expecting gaze glazing his features.
âI⌠I donât know,â he shrugs, âI was too scared to open it alone.â
âO-Oh,â you nod, furrowing your brows at him, âwell, itâs okay to be scared. I believe in you, but even if it doesnât go the way you wanted it to, Iâm still proud of you for trying,â 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.
âI have the letter here with me,â he says, swallowing, âin my bag.â
âDo you want to open it together?â you ask, watching as the boy nods.
Heâs 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 wonât 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 heâs givenâ âwe are pleased to announce that you were admitted to the athlete scholarship programâŚââ he feels a pair of arms wrapping around his shoulders, jolting him awake from his thoughts.
âYou made it! Oh my god, you made it!â you cheer, excitement taking over your whole body as you shake the boy in your hold from side to side. The reality still isnât quite settling in for him, so he just lets you do whatever you pleaseâ 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.Â
âYou made it, Sunwoo,â you repeat, this time a little more collected.
Sunwoo finally allows himself to put the letter away and look into your eyes. âI made it,â he sighs, a soft smile playing with his features.Â
âYou did!â you nod, grinning back.
Itâs strange. The first step towards Sunwooâs dream is now complete. He got admitted to the university of his dreamsâ the one thatâs 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 everyoneâs support.Â
Thereâs 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 endâ only if he keeps trying hard and improving. Heâs happy. Donât get him wrongâ he really is. Somehow, though, it all feels a bit scary.
âWhatâs wrong? Arenât you excited?â 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 youâre adulting, the list keeps getting longer.
âI am,â he nods, forcing a smile onto his lips.
âYou donât seem excited,â you argue.
âI am! I really am,â he says, trying to battle with himself.
âWhat is it?âÂ
âWhat is what?âÂ
âCome on, Sunwoo,â you sigh, âI can tell when somethingâs wrong. You donât have to hide it from me, because Iâll know anyway. What is it?â you insist, staring the boy down with an examining look.
The boy sighs, shrugging to himself. âWell,â he starts, âthe school is in America.â
âAnd?â you start, furrowing your eyebrows. âWe knew that when you applied. Why is it such a problem now?â 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 foolishâ because youâre right. It was his dream, he is excited, and this is good news. But still, thereâs something he didnât really think of when applying. Well, he did. He just thinks that the fact that him being accepted wasnât really a realistic idea, no matter how hard he wished and prayed for it, so he didnât have the need to think about it so seriously back then. Now itâs here, all real, and itâs a struggle he didnât really grasp that he was going to have to go through.
âWell,â he starts again, still avoiding your eyes, âthat means I have to move. And we wonât see each other for a while.â
Thereâs a heartbeat of silence following his confessionâ one in which he contemplates all possible reactions you might give him, some with truly catastrophic endingsâ but after what seems like eternities, he hears your soft, gentle voice. âIs that whatâs making you so worried?â you ask.
âKind of,â he nods, feeling his cheeks redden. You handle him with so much careâ sometimes, he doesnât know how to react.
âAwh,â you coo, taking his hand into yours, preventing him from picking at the skin of his cuticles until they bleedâ an action he always does and you keep scolding him for. âSunwoo, we knew about this when you applied. I am okay with you going away. Sure, it will suck, but itâs only for a little time, and I can come visit you there and youâll show me around and stuffâŚâ
Sunwoo presses a tight-lipped, hesitant smile to his lips. He feels reassured.
âAnd weâll call, and itâs going to be fine, because this is good. This is good news, Sunwoo, and youâre gonna do great, and youâre gonna be a star, and Iâll be so, so proud of you,â you hum, voice tender and caring, doing your best at consoling the boy.
âIâm already so proud of you now, yâknow?â you hum, squeezing his hand. âEverything will be alright, so donât you worry.â
Sunwooâs 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 himâ they gave him hope, they gave him joy, they made him feel like perhaps, this is not such a terrifying occurrence. And it really isnâtâ itâs quite possibly the best thing that heâs ever achieved, and the circumstances of him leaving donât seem as horrifying to him now.Â
As long as he knows that you have his back, he thinks he can do anything. And whatâs 3 years abroad against the 4 years heâs 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. Thereâs 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 youâre here with him, promising him that youâll 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. Heâs 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 youâ itâs a fun game to him, trying to figure you out completely.Â
He still has some time, but itâs 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 againâ 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 situationsâ afraid heâs not good enough, too inexperienced, too immature for youâ but in the rare moments he does take the lead, your reactions give him a new source of confidence.Â
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 heâs 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 everyoneâ 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 heâs doing it wrongâ a momentarily panic settling in his chest screaming at him that he hurt youâ 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.Â
Humming under his touch, Sunwoo gets a kick from hearing the sounds coming out of your mouth. Itâs like a rewardâ itâs 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. Thereâs 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.Â
Sunwoo hears a sound escape his throat at the contact, making him instantly feel foolishâ 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 reactiveâ like the place under his ear, the juncture of his shoulder. You revisit all the places youâve 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 youâve 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. Itâs 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 itâs electrified under your touch. Placing a soft peck to the spot youâve had your attention on, you mumble into his skin. âEverything alright?â
âYeah,â Sunwoo swallows, noticing you leaning your forehead against his tenderly, eyes meeting.Â
âAre you sure?â
He nods. Heâs never been more sure about anything in his lifeâ 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. âI justâ Iâve never done this before,â Sunwoo whispers the obvious, watching as you carefully observe him.
âSweetheart,â you tenderly call, placing a soft peck to his lips. âThatâs okay. Me neither, but we could⌠we could try and see where this leads us, if youâd like?â
The sweet pet name alone makes the boy let go of all his worries, of the stress and nerves heâs been holding on to for the past few weeks. You hold him like heâs going to break, and Sunwooâs never felt so loved before. You reassure him that itâs going to be okay. You are there to remind him that life isnât so hard, as long as youâre by his side.
âOkay,â he nods, smiling at you.Â
âOkay,â you repeat, holding his face in your hands as you kiss him againâ 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, relationshipâ and now, his first lover.
In the comfort of your childhood bedroom, holding you closer than ever, Sunwoo dreams of eternity with you. He doesnât realize what a foolish thought it might be. Somehow, heâs 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 canât help but notice. âEverything alright?â he asks.
âYeah,â Sunwoo hums, nodding at the question. He has 3 assigned roommatesâ all male, all around his age. Sunwooâs english isnât bad, but it also isnât 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 withâ their names are Josh and Samâ arenât as close with him. Sunwoo doesnât really blame them. Itâs not like he tried to get close with them anyway. He talks much more with Mark, the one year older boy thatâs 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. Itâs good to share a laugh with Mark when they eat breakfast together in the kitchen, but he wonât go on and talk his ear off about his homesickness, for example. Sunwoo wouldnât 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 wonât tell Mark Lee about how much he misses Koreaâ heâs sure the boy has his own things to worry about. Besides, itâs not like Mark talks about personal stuff with him either. After four days of living here, he canât 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 doesnât want anyone to know that heâs having a hard time here in Boston. This was all his decision, his dream, and sometimes, things are going to get difficult. And thatâs 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 alongâŚ
Which is why he doesnât deserve to whine about the fact that he feels terribly lonely. He did this to himself. All him.
If he had a diary, heâd write about the terrible mattress first, he thinks. Then, the weird weather around hereâ itâs always hot, but not humid. It doesnât rain as much. He kind of misses the rain.Â
If he had a diary, heâd 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.
Heâd 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 didnât quite understand when they were little. They are right when they say your sibling is your first best friend after all.Â
Heâd write about the second best friend heâs ever made, Eric. Heâd write about how he longs for his presence, his encouraging words. His funny remarks, the pranks heâd pull on him. How he always appreciated him being just across the street, how he enjoyed growing up with him by his side.
Heâd write about how much he misses youâ perhaps the most out of everyone. There arenât 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. Itâs been 4 days since he arrived and he hasnât spoken to you since you waved him off to the airport. His mother drove him and you couldnât 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.Â
For the last four days, heâs been slowly settling in, taking in the new country and the new environment. Heâd 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 itâs too hard to handle? And Sunwoo knows itâs hardâ hell, itâs the most difficult thing heâs ever doneâ 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 thereâs one thing that can help his growing homesickness, it is to hear your voice.Â
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.Â
âWe changed our landline yesterday, so call me on this number when you get there,â you said, pressing a kiss towards his cheek before you let him get into his motherâs car. Sunwoo promised to call back thenâ he hopes you donât mind the delay. Maybe he could blame the timezonesâŚ
Hand thrusting into the front pocket of the bag, Sunwoo feels around and tries to fish out the little piece of paper. Heâs 100% certain he put it there after he got into the car with his mum, making sure itâs safe and sound. He would hate to lose itâ 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 doesnât feel the soft piece of paper anywhere. The boy unzips all other compartments of the bag, turning it around, shaking out everything thatâs inside. The phone number to your new landline has to be there somewhere in there. It needs to be.
When he doesnât find it in his bag, he opens his closet. He throws everything out to the groundâ his clothing, his shoes, the notebooks he bought for universityâ 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 beâ some more unreasonable than others. Sunwoo feels like he is losing his mind.
The paper is nowhere in his room. Itâs 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 couldnât 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 wayâŚ
When he gets the same response, he tries again. And again. And again.Â
He canât 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 thereâs nothing that can be done, nothing more that he can do. He doesnât have the number, and somehow, although it sounds foolish, it feels like he lost you alongside it too.Â
âEverything alright, man? You lookââ Mark enters the room, peering at the boy with curious, worried eyes. Itâs 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. Itâs 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 doesnât 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?
Itâs hard to run when your nose is stuffed and your breathing hitches with silenced sobs, he learns. Sunwoo doesnât 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.Â
September 2007
âIf you really think about it, Y/N,â Sunwoo hums, making you shift your attention towards his serious-looking face, âwe never really broke up in the first place.â
The boy is holding a bottle of cider in his hand, one of the four you got on your way to your tonightâs destination. Sunwoo rang the bell to your house a few minutes before 10 PM, and although you werenât expecting to see him that day and you werenât even looking as presentable as youâd 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.
âOh yeah,â you hum, lightness evident in your tone, âyou just never called. Whatâs up with that, by the way?â 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. âI lost your new landline number,â he peeps, voice barely louder than a whisper.
His answer doesnât 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. âWhat?â
âYeah,â he nods, scratching the back of his neck before looking back at you, eyes full of guilt and shame, âI⌠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 signâŚ?â he says, shrugging.
âA sign of what?â you ask, genuinely surprised to hear his answer.
All this time, you thought he didnât call because he didnât want to. You thought he didnât 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 wouldnât have time for you every day. When he didnât call for so long, even after you moved to the States as wellâ you hoped heâd somehow try searching for your number even then, because in your mind, everything was possibleâ 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 didnât 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.Â
âA sign that⌠that maybe we werenât meant to be,â he hums, shrugging. âIt sounds stupid, really, butâŚâ 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 thereâs no longer anything weighing them down. Itâs 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.
âFor me, back then, you were the right person, wrong time. And I didnât want to let you go, I really didnât, itâs 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 guessâŚâ 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. âIt wasnât fair of me to want you to wait for me either.â
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 loversâ the one sitting next to you right nowâ 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 heâs 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.Â
You dated around after losing contact with Sunwoo. You donât really think you found someone else, though.Â
âI wanted to wait for you, though,â you say, shuffling closer to the male on the bench, voice sincere. âIt was my decision.â
âWell,â he chuckles, âlife had other plans for us two.â
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 didnât align with what you two have calculated during the summer break after your senior year. Sunwoo didnât become a star. His football career never took off. He finished his degree and came back home, bitter and heartbroken.Â
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 wasnât 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 doesnât hurt as much anymore.Â
Looking at the male next to you, you think you know the reason why. âItâs okay,â you say, shrugging, âwe figured it out anyways, didnât we?â
âYeah,â Sunwoo sighs, looking at you with a soft smile playing with his lips. âI guess we did.â
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 didnât expect to get over things so quickly. You donât think you would have been able to get over everything alone, thoughâ 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.
âRemember how young we were? Itâs like I still see you chasing the ball around the field when I focus hard enough,â you say, pointing ahead of you.
Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head at your antics. âYeah. I almost see you leading the cheer practice in the back there,â he points, âin your cute cheer uniform, with the ridiculous pom poms in your handsââ
âHey, donât call them ridiculous,â you gasp, âthey were my favorite part of the whole routine!â
âOh, I could tell,â he laughs, poking fun at you.Â
âWell, you must have liked the pom poms enough to stare at me during practice all the time,â you shrug, teasing the male back. The fact that Sunwoo had a crush on you long before you reciprocated the feelings wasnât something you two explicitly talked about before, but you always deemed as clear as day. Or, at least, it was to everyone back then.
âI did notââ he gasps, making you gently shove him with your elbow.
âCome on, everybody used to say you had a crush on me back then,â you hum, âyou were pretty obvious with it too.â
âYou knew?â 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.
âGirls always know,â you point out, shrugging. You take another sip of your cider, licking your lips after and speaking up again, tone of voice almost confidential. âI just acted like I didnât. 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,â you giggle, seeing the male shake his head at you in disapproval.
âYou couldâve confessed first, if you were so confident,â he mutters, obviously a little gutted by the revelation.
âThat would be below my level,â you nod, pressing your lips together into a straight line, âbesides, it was fun watching you act all cute and clueless.â
âDonât call me cute and cluelessââ
âThatâs what you were, though! Like the time when you got super drunk on your birthday and begged me not to leaveââ
âI didnât even like you back then!â
âSure you didnât.â
âI was in denial,â he furrows his brows theatrically, putting the empty glass bottle to the grass, âbut I see that you had a lot of fun watching me suffer.â
âFine, pretty boy,â 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. âWould it make you feel better if I confessed first this time?â
âHuh?â 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 welcomedâ no matter if they were a fellow cheerleader or a football player. You didnât expect for the boy to never stop wearing the numberâ although it was your favorite, it didnât 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.)Â
This field is where you watched him play football every week. Itâs 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.Â
This is where Sunwoo found his passionâ 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 itâs only right to use it for new beginnings.
âI think⌠I think Iâm still in love with you, Sunwoo,â you start slowly, playing with your fingers in your lap, âwell, I donât know if my feelings for you ever ended⌠they couldâve, I mean, we were apart for so long⌠I just⌠all I know is that I donât want us to be apart anymore, and Iââ
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 didnât 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. Thereâs still excitement, thereâs 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. âDonât try to take credit for it now,â he says, âbecause 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 inââ
âGod, youâre unbelievable,â you grunt.
âBut you love me,â the boy says, like itâs the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.
âAlways have,â you say, pressing a quick peck to his plush lips, âalways will.â
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. Itâs 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 allâ you feel truly content.Â
They say you never forget about your first love. At 25 and still counting, you guess you could say thatâs true.
#deoboyznet#sunwoo#the boyz#sunwoo fluff#sunwoo x reader#sunwoo angst#the boyz angst#the boyz fluff#the boyz x reader#the boyz scenario#the boyz imagine#sunwoo scenario#sunwoo imagine
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Extracurriculars (S.R.)
Summary: Reader saves her TA from a frathouse.
Request: gradstudent!Spencer getting dragged to a frat party and hooking up with a girl in her undergrad (someone he's been interested in) A/N: Who wouldnât want to deflower sweet Spencer? Characters are both around 21. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Virgin!Spencer, frat house, college party, alcohol, drunken sexual activity, heavy petting, kissing, making out, loss of virginity (male) penetrative sex, protected sex (condom), TA/Student relationship Word Count: 5k
MASTERLIST
When I was younger, my mother taught me a few key lessons about growing up. She had to teach me those things because, while they seemed to come naturally to other kids, they never came to me.
It seemed fundamentally unfair that I could do the quadratic formula before I could tie my shoes. Of course, with that, I could just insist I preferred Velcro. My inability to recognize the socially acceptable way to care for my body, or even recognize the signals it was sending to me, was a little harder to explain. It was even harder to calibrate.
By the time I reached college, I became obsessed with cleanliness to an unhealthy degree. I would avoid any situations where I could find myself fixated on dirt beneath my fingernails or anything that could be even tangentially described as âsticky.â
I was petrified of being perceived as anything but pure. I had been that way for long enough that it had basically become my defining character trait.
And then, on one very lonely and poorly planned night in grad school, I decided to challenge the idea that I could only be one thing.
That night, I went to a frat house.
Between the pulsing speakers that measured up to my hips and the remnants of discarded beer bottles, I realized that I had made a number of miscalculationsâthe kind that my mother had most certainly not prepared me for.
âCome on, man, live a little!â the student beside me shouted over impossibly loud music.
I hadnât the slightest clue what he was asking me to do, but I could tell from the taunt that my answer would be the same regardless:
âN-No thanks.â
I looked down at the glass bottle still dripping beer from its lip. My stomach churned at the sight. I was so distracted by the thought of spit coating the finish that I had failed to connect the dots to realize that the group was planning to play the aptly named game âspin the bottle.â
That was, until the older but somehow less mature man to my side jeered, âWhy not? Have you never kissed a girl before?â
My cheeks burned with some mixture of embarrassment and rage. Iâd hoped that they would confuse it for drunkenness, if theyâd thought about it at all.
I wanted to open my mouth to defend my decision without sounding pathetic, but my lips stayed tightly shut.
Then, just a second before the pause became awkward, a second voice chimed in.
âPiss off, idiot.â
I heard her right before I felt her. Her arm slung around my neck brought with it the comforting scent of jasmine and vanilla. Her heated skin somehow stayed warm but never sticky, and my body quickly corrected its instinct to move closer to her.
Sheâs my student, I reminded myself.
My favorite student, though.
Although the feeling was shared by the man she was speaking to, he wasnât so clear about it. He seemed almost sarcastic when he shouted, âWhoa! Careful there (y/n), you might make me think you like me.â
By contrast, she was outright in her apathy when she droned, âNo one likes you.â
âOuch,â he replied with a hand clutching his chest, âYou wound me.â
Iâd half expected her to respond to him in kind. My mind ran a million confusing calculations to try to determine whether this was just harmless flirting or actual annoyance. All I knew for certain was that my chest burned with jealousy that dissipated within a second of her speaking again.
âHey cutie, which of these jackasses brought you here?â she asked so sweetly I could taste sugar on my tongue as I tried to answer.
âHuh? Oh, u-uh. No⌠jackasses.â
Smooth as the cheap liquor weâre drinking.
âYeah, right,â she chuckled in disbelief before explaining, âThatâs all thatâs here besides you.â
⌠Besides me?
âYou wanna leave?â
My heart stopped at the mere thought. For a moment, I convinced myself that I had fantasized the question. Perhaps someone had slipped something into my drink that had turned me into a blubbering fool. Perhaps it was something more nefarious.
She wouldnât.
Wouldnât what?
âWhat?â I asked.
Before she could clarify, the now very unwelcome third presence chimed in, âHe just got here! Let him stay.â
I watched as she bristled in response. Her fingernails dug slightly into my shoulder and she pulled me closer.
It must have been instinct. There was no way she could have meant it on purpose.
It felt nice, though, to be closer to her.
âI also just got here, and yet, I want to leave,â she sneered.
When he made a motion to touch her shoulder the same way sheâd been touching mine, she jumped back with a stern warning.
âTouch me and lose at least one testicle.â
He put his hands up in surrender. She scoffed. Her hand dropped from my shoulder, but I never had time to miss her. She took my hand so quickly that I didnât have time to think about my response. So, I held hers back.
My heart had finally made up its mind before she spoke.
âCome on, sweetheart. Weâre leaving,â she ordered.
I followed.
âW-Where are we going?â
She shrugged.
âI donât know. Somewhere else.â
She turned to look at me with the utmost skepticism, or, dare I say it, fascination with what she found.
âYou have somewhere to be?â she asked.
âUm⌠no?â
I prayed it had been the right answer.
It was.
âWanna come back to my place?â she offered with a smile, âItâs not far from here.â
Sheâd said it so casually that I couldnât help but feel Iâd missed something. Surely, she couldnât be offering the normal incidental activities typically involved with accompanying someone âback to their place.â
I had been so certain of it that Iâd even possessed the courage to ask.
âUh⌠to do⌠what?â
She laughed. It wasnât a painful sound; it was kind and airy. The music of her laughter lined the increasingly quiet streets as the music faded away in the background.
âYouâre cute,â she hummed. Then, with a wicked smirk, she purred, âYou got something in mind?â
My face filled with what felt like half the blood in my body. The rest went to another, somehow even more embarrassing aspect of my anatomy.
She didnât seem to mind. In fact, she seemed emboldened and excited by how smitten I seemed. It all felt so idyllic that I didnât even question when sheâd taken my hand in hers again.
âCome on, cutie,â she instructed.
My heart quivered at the compliment. I didnât even try to convince myself that it had been uttered with condescension or sarcasm. I enjoyed, even just for a moment, the idea that I might be seen as something desirable to her.
I had many reasons not to trust women like her. I had been burned in the past, with ropes and blindfolds that still felt paralyzing. But in that moment, those cruel memories felt worlds away.
She had just seemed so⌠calm. So happy to flaunt our intertwined fingers no matter how many familiar faces we passed.
âWhat were you doing in a place like that, anyway?â she asked.
I laughed before I thought not to.
âDid I seem that uncomfortable?â
âWerenât you?â
âYeah, I was.â
The admission didnât seem as humiliating as Iâd expected it to. The girl swaying closer with each step seemed pleased at the answer. I realized that she mightâve carried her own concern that perhaps she had overstepped bounds by assuming she was doing me a favor.
âThanks for saving me,â I reassured her.
âPlease,â she sighed, âI was looking for a reason to leave.â
It was a genuine, if not puzzling statement. Although Iâd failed to realize in the moment, I would come to learn that we had both arrived at the party with the exact same motivations.
âWhyâd you go then?â I asked.
The glitter on her face paled in comparison to her eyes among the streetlights. While she stared at me, I lost myself in the mesmerizing cascade of fluttering incandescence among the backdrop of her irises.
It was not the alcohol in my veins that made my cheeks tinge pink. It was not the bitter heat of the drought, nor the fear of whatever was making my shoes stick to cement.
It was the sound of her sigh and the way she looked at me like I might know the solution to the problem that landed us there together.
âHell if I know,â she laughed solemnly. âLonely, I guess.â
That makes two of us, I wanted to say. But it could be zero. If you wanted it to.
I wasnât drunk enough to say that, though. Just enough to not stop the seemingly rude question from slipping out.
âDo any of those people actually⌠like each other?â
âDefinitely not,â she laughed again.
I wanted to hear it again, but I didnât know how to make sure of that.
So, instead, I just smiled and said, âNoted.â
By some miracle, she giggled again. Once she finished, she turned to look at me. At first, I met her eyes, but the intensity caused a shiver to spark throughout my entire body. Goosebumps rippled as my heart struggled to make sense of the feelings her eyes stirred inside me.
She laughed again. I wouldnât care if it was the hundredth time. I savored the sweet sound in each of its iterations.
With her bitten lip and her half-lidded eyes, she swayed closer to me until our bodies bumped. I wondered if she could feel the way I shivered in response.
âWhat?â I asked.
âYouâre cute,â she answered.
It was such a strange thing for her to repeat that the insecurity riding the waves of alcohol bubbled over again.
âYou arenât drunk, right?â
Again, she laughed.
Again, I begged.
âNo, silly! I know my limits.â
She certainly hadnât been shy with sharing the lack of them, either. Her arm wrapped around mine and pulled me even closer. It took every bit of focus I could muster not to trip and bring an end to the most wonderful waking dream.
Of course, that focus vanished almost immediately once I realized what part of her anatomy was now pressed against my arm.
So soft and warm andâ
âWhy are you worried about it, anyway?â she hummed.
At the same time, she dipped her head down to force me to meet her eyes instead of staring at her chest. Somehow, that wasnât the most humiliating part of the exchange. No, that honor was reserved for the question that followed.
âAre you sure you donât have any extracurriculars in mind for when we get to my place?â
âI was just making sure!â I yelped in the most pathetic kind of defense. It took me a moment and her own wayward glances down my body to realize that the tease hadnât been an accusation.
If anything, it felt more like an offer.
Pride and confusion swelled in my chest. In the chaos, a few words tumbled out of my mouth that I hadnât pre-prepared.
âI-I mean, you keep calling me cute, so⌠Sounds like something a drunk girl would say,â I laughed.
She didnât, though. Instead, she came to a sudden stop and her lips curled into a slightly unnerving curvature. A hungry, stomach turning desire for⌠something.
Me?
It couldnât be.
I stopped, too, holding my breath and waiting for some permission or instruction to do anything but wait. Thankfully, she turned and climbed the stairs of what I could now safely assume was her porch.
She threw the door open without further fanfare but a little bit of a tease.
âGet inside, idiot,â she laughed.
I followed her instruction. Of course, I paused at the door and waited for her to show me the way. I nearly passed out when she intertwined our fingers once more and led me through the darkness of her otherwise unoccupied apartment.
My training to hopefully get into the FBI would have had me carefully inspecting her surroundings to learn more about this tantalizing woman. It wouldnât have been a bad idea, but I knew there was no way I could focus on anything other than how it felt when she looked at me.
Especially then. Together in the light polluted darkness, she didnât stray too far. Even when she reached behind me to shut the door to her room, she lingered.
I stumbled backwards, not in fear, but as a horrible overcorrection to what I wanted to do.
To my surprise, it didnât dissuade her.
In fact, she came even closer. She stepped forward until her chest was pressed against mine and her breath ghosted over my ear.
âWas he right, by the way?â
âWho?â
She let go of my hand and began trailing her fingers softly up my arm until I honestly couldnât see straight anymore.
I wanted her so badly. Almost on cue, she splayed her hand across my lower back and held my hips against hers.
Again, I whimpered. Again, she giggled.
Her hips rolled forward against my now very prominent erection wedged between us. Just before she spoke, she took a sharp inhale that was released with a shaky breath.
âHave you ever kissed a girl before?â she asked.
I couldnât even think to speak, let alone lie.
I shook my head no. Her free hand immediately tangled in my hair, tilting my head to the side just to see whether I would resist.
I didnât.
âDo you want to?â she asked.
That time, I had to say something. I was too afraid the moment would slip away.
âUm⌠are you⌠asking me to kiss you?â
Immediately, she returned the question with a question.
âAre you telling me no?â
âNo!â
Her hand in my hair held me steady while she retreated. The room felt hopelessly cold without her body heat.
âNo, no, Iâm not telling you no,â I babbled while she looked on with that same wicked smile. âAs in, I think my answer is⌠yes?â
Before I could resort to begging, she closed the distance between us. Her hands held my cheeks and pulled me forward until our lips crashed together.
I knew my kissing her was clumsy and naive, but I couldnât help it. The moment I tasted faded fruit flavored chapstick, my mind gave up on any hope for reason.
Just when I thought she was done with me, she kissed me again. She kept kissing meâthe action becoming sloppier and sweeter with every passing second.
Her hands dropped to grip fistfuls of my shirt at the same time mine jumped to cup her face.
She was so soft. The pillowy feeling of her lips made me forget how much I normally hated stickiness on my skin. Because I loved how it felt when her lips lingered.
I wouldâve kissed her for hours, forever, but she ended that hope with a firm tug of my shirt before she tossed me towards her bed.
My heart leapt into my throat. It lodged itself just behind the Adamâs apple like it could hide its blatant affection from her somehow.
She stalked closer like she had before. She drew feathery patterns up my goosebump riddled arms before she whispered in my ear.
âYouâre fun to kiss.â
âI-Is it bad?â I stammered, for some reason.
âNo, itâs fun,â she repeated.
She didnât dwell for a second on my insecurity and momentary idiocy. Instead, she began lowering her fingers down my stomach and giggling as she felt the muscles tense.
âYou wanna do something more fun, Spencer?â
Completely lacking any oxygen, I breathed, âLike what?â
âYouâre a genius, right?â
Just like that, she firmly grabbed hold of me through my pants. I responded with a broken, strangled cry that fell away the moment she started to drum her fingers against the burning fabric.Â
âDo I need to say it?â she teased.
Her tongue peeked out between her teeth when she pulled back to look at me. At the same time, she began palming my erection with such familiarity that I nearly fell apart in her hand.
âFuck,â I groaned involuntarily.
âNever heard you talk like that before,â she whispered, âHope itâs a nice word.â
Euphoria flooded my senses that were dangerously heightened by the alcohol Iâd consumed to make it through the party. Not enough to be inebriated, but enough to make me stupid.
Even more stupid than I was already made by the blood pooling in the appendage fighting against my pants.
âFuck, please donât stop,â I gasped. My hips started bucking against her, and for a moment, I thought she would grant me mercy.
But then her hand slowed to a stop.
âGonna have to stop if you want to get to the fun part,â she cooed.
Half-joking, I slurred back, âIs this not the fun part?â
Then the world came to a standstill, the universe pausing its incessant tumbling to allow me to hear her next words with a crystal-like clarity.
âDo you want to fuck me, Spencer?â
I nodded without hesitation or shame.
âUse your pretty voice,â she chastised so kindly it made my heart ache.
âYes,â I pleaded. âYes, I want to f-fuck you.â
She smiled and it didnât feel like a mockery, somehow.
âGood,â she chirped. Then, without hesitation, she began steadfastly undoing my pants.
She seemed so skilled at the movements that I doubted whether sheâd had any alcohol at all.
Iâd been so caught up in the wonder of her that every ounce of fight left my body. I let her undress me and barely managed to help in my stupor.
She still didnât mind. The smile on her face persisted the entire time.
âLay down,â she commanded.
I followed. I scrambled back onto her bed without ever taking my eyes off her.
She moved so elegantly, so graceful as she stripped and presented me with the most beautiful sight. My heart was pounding so hard against my rib cage that I was worried it might break free to find her.
Yet when she finally crawled on top of me, my body tried to sink into the mattress. As if to stop me, she wrapped her devilishly warm fingers around my dick.
Still, Iâd managed to squeak, âArenât you worried that weâre⌠moving a little fast?â
âAre you worried?â she shot back without judgement.
My mind was caught in two types of fog, however. I tried to breathe through it, tried to think of anything besides how nice it felt when her fingers ghosted over the bare tip, but I couldnât.
âAre you sure youâre not drunk?â I laughed again, the words getting caught on soft moans still pouring from my mouth.
âYou tell me,â she dared.
Then she kissed me. This time, she didnât stop at my lips. Her lithe tongue slipped between my teeth and nearly wrapped around my own.
The muffled sounds of pleasure between us were getting harder to bear. That energy, the pent up frustration of almost a full year of wanting her had to come out somehow.
I grabbed her hips harder than I thought I was capable of. My nails dug into soft flesh and it caused her to make the most beautiful sound.
That beautiful girl gasped before she moaned against my cheek. Her hips dug harder into my lap, bucking against the hardness wedged between her thighs.
I dragged my nails down her legs, surprising us both at how much I loved to watch her writhe.
Still, I knew she was the one in control. She looked down at me like a toy that played perfectly along with her fantasies.
I wanted to let her have her way with me. But when she leaned over my body, I couldnât stop myself. My lips caught her breast the moment she came close enough.
My hands were gentler there, palming at the supple tissue that slipped between my fingers. I lavished the hardened peak at the center for as long as she would let me, suckling at her breast like a man starved.
Eventually, though, she wound a hand through my hair and pulled me back against the pillow.
In my daze, I hardly noticed the condom in her hand until she rolled the latex over my dick.
Suddenly, and without thinking, I sputtered out a confounding command.
âWait!â
She froze. Her flushed chest heaved, still glistening with evidence of my affection.
âAre you alright?â she asked, her voice filled with the most genuine concern.
âYes. Yes, Iâm fine, I justâŚâ I tried to assure her and myself.
The poor girl looked horrified, like she was waiting for me to condemn her for her absolutely delightful enthusiasm up to this point.
It was such a silly worry that it almost made me laugh. It almost made the vulnerability that would follow feel like no risk at all.
âI need to tell you something first,â I explained.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at her. I really looked at herâthat dazzling star of a girl. My student, my favorite student that Iâd watched and lusted over in every class. My mind simmered with that feeling; the knowing that the thing I coveted most might actually be mine.
âI⌠like you,â I said.
Less eloquent than Iâd hoped.
If her bubbly, wholehearted laugh was any indication, she still didnât mind.
âWell, Iâd sure hope so!â she snickered.
I felt compelled to explain.
âNo, I mean, Iâve liked you for a while now. Like, I really like you,â I insisted.
That time when she kissed me, it felt like her own confession. Scooting forward until her heat was pressed against my own, she sighed happily against my lips.
âYouâre so sweet, Spencer,â she hummed, âI really like-like you, too.â
Even though my mind tried to deny it, my foolhardy heart recognized the truth in her words. It clung to her the same as my hands drifting over the new marks on her thighs.
âBut we donât have to do this,â she assured me. âDo you want to do this, or do you want to stop?â
âI want you so bad,â I whined without any hesitation. âPlease, pleaseâI want you.â
That cruel twist of her lips returned. The sound of my begging urged her on until she lifted herself just above where I wanted her. She leaned forward again, propping herself up above me while her hair tickled my face.
âKiss me,â she slurred against my lips.
I did. I kissed her even more feverishly than before and used all the air in my chest to worship her.
I was convinced my lungs would collapse when she finally started to ease her way onto my aching cock. Each second of tortuous pleasure, the scorching heat of her enveloping me like flames kissing desiccated wood.
My jaw was dropped open, my mouth losing all moisture as I panted and twitched with pleasure. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I saw her. I watched as she winced at how far her walls had to stretch around me.
Yet I felt her desire dripping at the base of me, glistening the same as my spit spread across her breast.
âThatâs it, baby,â she purred as she settled at the base of me.
I looked down at where Iâd disappeared inside of her and decided it was better than any magic trick Iâd ever hoped to master.
âDoes that feel good?â she whispered when she saw the wonder in my eyes.
Involuntarily, my hips bucked into her and made her gasp. Then, still without meaning to, I did it again.
âYes,â I hissed when she tightened her walls around me.
âMy sweet boy,â she cooed between breathy laughter, âYouâre so fucking precious. Iâm gonna make you feel so good.â
As if she hadnât already.
But I would come to bite my tongue quicker than the words could make it out. Because for all the pleasure her descent had brought, it couldnât compare to the feeling of her hips subtly rocking throughout her ascent.
My body actually trembled, overcome with the unadulterated pleasure of her careful rolling up and down my dick. It seemed insane for such a simple motion to render me absolutely dumbfounded, but it did.
I didnât say a word. The only thing spilling from my lips were moans and butchered attempts at her name.
My hands, however, wandered. They traced her silhouette and groped whatever softness it could find. They settled, naturally, at her breasts. Through the motions of curious, clumsy fingers, I felt her heart beating harder against my palm.
As its speed increased, so did that of her hips. She came down harder while the pitch of her moans grew higher and more airy.
âSpencer,â she whined.
It sounded like starlight igniting deep in my chest. I felt that tension growing in my gut, threatening to bring an end to the wonder of loving her.
âWait,â I grunted. My hands fell to her hips and halted her movements before I begged, âSl-Slower.â
She obliged me. With her head tipped back and her hands on my chest, she rode me so slowly that I could feel every detail of her twitching muscles.
âYouâre so beautiful,â I groaned.
My hips caught me off guard as they started to move. They bucked up into her with increasing intensity until it broke her rhythm.
That beautiful girl fell forward, barely catching herself before she collapsed against my body.
âFuck me, Spencer,â she mumbled against my neck. She interrupted her own pleas with sloppy kisses against my jugular that lit my body on fire.
That passion was quickly muted by her words, however. Because that was when she growled, âTake me, Spencer. Iâm yours.â
Iâd never been a particularly strong man, but there was absolutely nothing that would stop me then. My hands splayed over the back of her thighs and lifted her just enough for my hips to move freely.
She clung to me, her arms wrapped around my neck and her whole body rippling with each collision of our hips.
I fucked her harder, my hands carving the memory into her skin and my jaw clenched so tightly I thought I might draw blood from my tongue.
âYou can do it, sweetheart,â she purred. âGive it to me.â
Then, just before I found my peak, I felt it. The unmistakable feeling of pulsing muscles as her body seized in my hold.
I gasped, choking on a moan as I felt her body begging me to fill her with the full extent of my desire.
I emptied myself into the condom and wished that it could have been her instead. I felt the warmth dripping back down me and dared to wonder what it would have looked like on her now-marked thighs.
âGood boy,â she snickered like she could read those fantasies raging in my mind. âThatâs my good boy.â
She lifted her head just enough to plant one final kiss on my forehead, and then she promptly collapsed against my chest. I welcomed her weight despite the lack of air. Breathing hardly seemed important compared to her comfort.
And it was comfortable for me, too. As I nuzzled against her neck, I found a sense of home that Iâd never felt before.
She was sticky with sweat and spit from haphazard kisses, but she was so beautiful that I barely even noticed.
When she got off of my lap, I missed her immediately. My hand chased hers and, to my unending pleasure, she let me hold it. She lingered for as long as she could before she excused herself and left me to clean up the evidence of what weâd done.
Her room was still as quiet as before. The heavy bass from the frat house felt lifetimes away. The alcohol still swirled in my bloodstream, doing little to warm my now freezing body.
When she walked back through the door, my body flooded with relief. I watched as she grabbed all of my clothing sheâs tossed around and placed each piece on the nightstand.
There was a strange sadness in her eyes that I wouldâve done anything to remedy.
âHey, uhâŚâ I started, yet my throat closed when she looked at me.
âWhatâs up?â she asked.
âI-I have a question,â I said.
Then paused, again.
She smiled. When that didnât serve as answer enough, she laughed.
âYeah?â
That lovely sound granted me the confidence to finally ask the question Iâd been pondering since the moment I stepped into her room.
âAre⌠Are you still lonely?â
I hadnât thought it possible, but her smile grew even brighter. Abandoning starlight for the full force of the sun that would soon peek over the horizon.
âNot so much anymore,â she answered bashfully.
I smiled, too. With a playful tilt to my shrug, I asked her one more question that begged for an answer.
âCan I stay anyway?â
Again, she giggled.
âYeah. Iâd love that.â
âSo would I,â I told her.
And so, we did.
(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)
Reid Taglist: @mrs-dr-reid , @dreatine , @hopefulfangirl24 , @laurakirsten0502 , @dontcallmekittens , @rintheemolion , @andreasworlsboring101 , @imsuperawkward , @wentz2005 , @lovejules888 , @dashneydanger , @materialisthicc , @violetspoetic , @mslowlife , @conniesanchor , @trippol-threat , @will-byers-needs-a-hug
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#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x you
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I absolutely love how you write!! Now I've got this under my skin: basically the President Coriolanus and maid dynamic. The servant has this behavior in which she avoids crossing paths with Coriolanus at all costs but he already has her in his sights.
coriolanus snow x fem!maid!reader
mr president
tw: mdni 18+ (m masturbation, jerked off, implied sex in, power abuse, humiliation kink, guilt trip, cheating, degradation, naive reader, implied short reader)
coriolanus had been watching you all day. you knew it. he knew it, and he didnât care. youâd always been taught to put your head down, go unnoticed, to just work. but it seems president snow had other ideas to how you could be of service to him, preferably with your legs wide open.
but this week felt different. you were use to his stares, they always seemed to linger even once he was long gone. but lately they set your body on fire, consuming you. you could barely look at him when he asked you to fetch a glass of water, when he requested for another seat at the table to be set tonight, and so on.
he loved to embarrass you with the most ridiculous and tedious jobs. but at first theyâd been mild in want, for you to feed him, for you to clean his shoes and tie them, pick any lint off of his coat. but as his desire for you increased so did the humiliating nature of them. to clean the floor in your uniform which he knew youâd ripped that morning on a sharp thorn, to pick up the utensils heâd dropped, when heâd requested fresh new sheets after heâd soiled them himself. watching intently as your hands bunched up the sheets, cradling them in your arms as your cute little face scrunched up in horror as his cum coated your hands.
he loved you.
and you had no idea as to why. you never drew attention to yourself and certainly not enough to warrant his. yet coriolanus was hellbent on having you.
when you were awoken by one of maids in the middle of the night youâd expected something different, maybe one of the girls needed help in cleaning. but when she told you of president snow asking for you specifically for help with something, you could only help but be scared. you didnât want to go help him with whatever. you didnât want to be within arms reach of him let alone his own quarters. his wife was away on a business trip that week, leaving him with free time to torment you.
but you went nonetheless, who were you to refuse your dear president?
the entire walk to his quarters had you reassuring yourself, heâll want you to bring him something. âwater perhaps, then heâll let you go. heâll let you go y/n.â you approached his door, raising your hand before knocking but a voice stopped you in your tracks. was it a cry? a groan? you leaned into the door, ear pressed against the cold wood, listening for a hint of what was occurring.
âfuck,â he groaned out, âso good, fuck sâ so good.â that must be some really good soup! you thought as you smiled, youâd made his soup today and he said heâd eat it later on that night. âfuck y/n.â now you werenât arrogant, it may have been your soup but you didnât name it after yourself. you should correct him.
âmr president?â your sweet voice called out, your voice went straight to his throbbing cock. âc-come in.â you smiled to yourself as you opened the door only to be with president snow on his bed, hand wrapped around the base of his cock, completely naked with a smirk on his face. definitely not eating soup, you thought. âclose the door, now.â you did exactly that, what would someone say if they found the president so indecent? you should protect his image.
âsit down.â you crept over to him before hoisting yourself up, your small frame dwarfed by the overly-large bed. meant for two. his wife! you instantly covered your eyes like a child whoâd seen something they just werenât meant to. âiâm so sorry president snow, i didnât mean to look. iâll leave.â you rambled as you slowly wriggled away, but not before his hand landed on your thigh. âi didnât call you in here for you to leave right after.â his hand rubbed into your thigh, soft and gentle, everything he wasnât. it drew a soft moan from your lips, snows smug expression was evident, only if youâd just open your eyes.
your hands slowly peeled away from your face as you gazed into his eyes, âi saw you looking before, you liked it didnât you slut?â for some reason the word made you blush as you looked down at your lap, his hand was playing with the hem of your night dress. âno mr snow.â you bashfully replied, his hand worked its way up underneath your dress, the other preoccupied with his dick.
âno? am i not pretty?â you eyes widened at the implication, president coriolanus snow, ugly? he was anything but, âno! i- i mean yes, yes you are pretty, very pretty mr president.â he grinned at your words, âyeah? you wanna prove it to me? youâd do anything for your president right?â you nodded along quickly, not before gasping as his hand now played with the waistband of your underwear.
âi want you to suck me off.â
âsuck what?â his eyes trailed downwards.
âoh! oh.â
the sentence sent your head into a spin, were you really going to do this? but his sweet voice, so soft and hushed, his body illuminated by the gentle orange glow of his lamp, his hooded eyes, so sleepy. it all coaxed you in as he led your hand to where he needed.
another quiet groan escaped coriolanusâs lips as your thumb rubbed over the tip of his cock. he was already close but just your presence, along with your hand had him tipping over the edge. your slow tugs, unsure and trying, your timid voice, âam i helping you sir?â sir, the clear line distinguished the two of you in place. âyes, yes you are y/n. call me by my name.â and soon enough he reached his peek, sticky release all over your tiny hands.
he was sure the picture would be ingrained in his head, youâd lifted your hands as you simply stared at them, then looking up at coriolanus.
âwhat do i do?â
âswallow.â
#kira and anon chat <3#anon u and ur brilliant mind get a million smooches#hunger games x reader#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow x female!reader#coriolanus snow x fem!reader#YOU ARE A GENIUS THANK YOU!! glad you enjoy my work <3#OH THIS WAS DIRTYYY
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đ˛đđđ đđđđđđ đ˛đđđ đłđđđ
Tags: fluff, cute shit Cove does, ooc cove slightly?
Synopsis: basically, Cove doing things that gets you flustered and fall in love with him deeper
Word Count:Â 1073
Characters: Cove x GN! Reader
Leaning over and buckling your seatbelt
â¸Cove huffs whenever you forget to buckle yourself in. Of course, heâs not upset, in fact he loves leaning over and doing it for you. Totally not using that as a reason to steal a smooch from you.Â
â¸He also cares about safety; anything can happen, and he doesnât want to see you hurt. Like what if a helicopter suddenly falls on top of your car? Or what if he breaks too hard and you fly out the window??Â
â¸He always makes sure youâre buckled in first before he does so himself and starts the car. Even if youâre in a rush. Safety first!Â
â¸And he totally doesnât grumble in displeasure whenever you beat him in buckling your seatbelt first.Â
âI wanted to buckle you in⌠what? I didnât say anything?â
Zipping up your jacket
â¸Whenever you both decide to go out whenever itâs cold, you always toss on a jacket and not zip it up. Cove will and aways zip it up for you, not caring of your whining.
â¸He doesnât want you to get sick! If you do, he wonât be able to kiss you until you feel better and even though he has good patience, he doesnât want to wait too long.Â
â¸And once he reaches the maximum level, he just dives in and smothers you in kisses despite your protests, next thing you know, youâre both sick.Â
â¸But hey! Whatâs a better time to spend with your partner than being sick together? He doesnât care if he misses work, heâs happy enough to spend this time with you.Â
â¸Unfortunately, you canât be angry with him for too long because look at that face! Heâs really sorry but heâll make it up to you once you both get better.Â
âIâm sorry (Name) for not listening... But at least we get to be sick together!âÂ
Holding your hand before crossing the street
â¸Again, a safety thing, but he loves holding your hand and uses this as an excuse to hold yours. And to show off to others that âhey look! weâre holding hands so that means weâre dating! so back off!â. Especially in front of the cars youâre walking past, Cove giving the poor drivers a scare from his intense staring.
â¸Y'know that one Tik Tok audio clip from Chowder that basically goes like âHold my hand NOW���. Yeah, thatâs Cove, but he would never yell or use force on you to hold his hand. He instead pouts and gives you the puppy look so you can hold his hand. Which you do because he looks adorable.
â¸Always, without missing a beat, always kisses your hand. He loves bringing up your intertwined hands to his lips and plant a kiss, letting his lips linger for a bit before bringing your hands down and swinging them gently, a skip in his step.Â
â¸The warmth seeping from your palms brings Cove a sense of calmness. Just being near you calms his mind from any negative thoughts that spring up randomly.Â
âOh, weâre about to cross the street, (Name)! Hold my hand before we cross!âÂ
Tying your shoes
â¸Sometimes we leave the house in a rush and forget the most important thing. Tying our shoes! But with our trusty boyfriend, Cove, he always does it for you! He would stop you, kneel down and tap his knee, signaling you to put your foot on it so he could tie your shoes properly.Â
â¸He always checks if you tie your shoes or not. Cove doesnât want you to trip and fall for other people. See what I did there?? No? Okay anyway if you do fall for some reason, heâll be there to sweep you off your feet.Â
â¸Whenever he finishes tying your shoes, Cove would stand back up and look into your eyes with a shiny smile. You question him and he points at his cheek, blue eyes shining even brighter.Â
â¸He wants a reward from saving you from any falls you couldâve had in the future! Cove wants a kiss. From you. Either on the lips or cheek, heâs not a picky person.Â
âHere, let me tie your shoes for you.â
Always offering you food
â¸Even though Cove loves shoving food in his mouth and swallowing it in one go, he never forgets to offer you some. Doesnât matter if the snack is small and itâs not enough to feed two people, Cove will walk over and ask if you want a bite.
â¸If you offer him food, heâll be floored and open his mouth as you spoon feed him your meal. Heâll be happy with whatever you feed him a tiny crumb, a vegetable he doesnât like, reluctantly, heâll eat that.
â¸Drinks! Drinks are included in the equation.Â
â¸Even though Cove wants to sip on the refreshing slurpy, he will make sure you have the first zip without fail.Â
â¸Cove blushes at the thought of the indirect kiss whenever you put your lips on any of his utensils he eats with. Even though yâall are already dating. He still gets flutters from you.Â
âWant a bite, (Name)?â
Forehead goodbye kissesÂ
â¸Whenever you or Cove are running late or have to leave for a few hours, Cove will pull you towards him and plant a kiss on your forehead.
â¸Has become a routine for you both to never leave without you receiving Coveâs kiss before heading out to work. Honestly, itâs the best way to start off the day and he hopes that it never changes.
â¸But when youâre in a rush, you sometimes forget to receive that kiss and that brings down Coveâs morning. He pouts and waits for you to return so you can pepper your face with kisses to make up for the one you missed in the morning.Â
â¸Youâre sorry but you canât complain from the kiss onslaught so itâs a win-win
âOh, youâre leaving right now? Let me kiss your forehead!âÂ
âI miss you...â texts throughout the day
â¸This kinda goes with the âgoodbye kissesâÂ
â¸Cove texts you throughout the day that he misses you. He sends one not even a minute of you leaving the house you both lived in.Â
â¸Heâll send a text saying that he âcraves to cuddle youâ when you leave to take a shit.Â
â¸Itâs really cute until he starts spamming you while youâre in a meeting, your embarrassed face sputtering out apologies towards your workers.Â
âHeyy, i miss u :(âÂ
â§âââ
âââ§âââ
âââ§
A/N: Heyy ya'll I got another one for you hehe but I kinda rushed at the end because its late and im tired
Like my work? Buy me a ko-fi!
#cove holden x reader#our life beginnings & always#cove holden#x reader#our life: beginnings & always#oattslovewrites
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Miguel O'Hara x Tall!Reader
A/N: (I haven't seen many fics covering this topic so I thought that I'd throw my hat in the ring today). This is dedicated to all the tall girls out there! Y'all are beautiful and amazing!
Warnings: Slightly suggestive, but mostly SFW focus on legs, reader is female(if you'd like to see a gender-neutral version, please let me know!), reader is described as having a curvier lower body (only at one point, though), Miguel is absolutely head-over-heels for reader (pun-intended!)
Okay, y'all. Look at this man. He is 6'9". Big. Very big. Often times, he's the biggest person in the room. Tall and intimidating. And while he likes that (he is the big, scary boss. Hear him roar!), there are times in which he wishes that there was somebody who could relate to him. Like, do you know how hard it is to find shoes at 6'9"?
Now, don't get him wrong, Miguel loves women of all shapes and sizes. Short, tall, average height, skinny, chubby - he doesn't care. But when he saw you? It was like he had a spiritual awakening. Seeing you walk down the hallways of the Spider Society, suit hugging your curves...It did something to him.
Especially when he saw the mold of your legs. For the first time in a long time, Miguel felt himself getting a little nervous. Never had he seen another Spider dominate the room like you did. During your first few days, people used to stare whenever you entered the room - not out of fear as they did with him - but out of awe. You were gorgeous but your height - it just took you over the top.
From your first day forward, all Miguel would hear about is you.
"Did you see the new Spider?" "Yeah, she's really tall! What do you think she does in her professional life? Model?" "Oh my gosh, look at her! She looks good in that suit!"
Whenever you and Miguel would have conversations, he found it hard to focus. First, you have a stunning face but those legs? Oh, he was a goner. Though he had only seen you with in your Spider-suit, Miguel couldn't help but take a liking to your legs. Your thighs, though comprised of muscle - jiggled when you walked, and your calves looked as firm as his demeanor on a bad morning. Miguel had never had a thing for legs before (or at least not to his knowledge) but now he found himself fascinated by your legs and their length and angles. He could spend days worshipping the curvature between your calves and thighs.
When Miguel finally does see you out of uniform? He needs to leave the room. Don't ask why, he just does.
When you two finally start dating, Miguel can't take his eyes off of you. All he can do is stare (mainly at your legs) and thank Padre Dios that he managed to pull you into his life.
But, while what initially made you stand out to Miguel was your height, it actually doesn't play that big of a role in your relationship. As time goes on and lust simmers into love, you and Miguel are just a regular couple.
Though he doesn't spend much time in his home (or didn't until you), Miguel's space is tailor-made for him. Meaning chairs, couches, tables, and shelves big and high enough to accommodate him and his height. While a small thing to note, he's glad that he finally has someone doesn't find issue with it all.
Miguel is aware of the of the stereotypes and jabs thrown at girls of your stature and so he does his best to constantly remind you that you are beautiful, attractive, feminine, etc.
If you're shorter than him (doesn't even matter if it's an inch), he likes to crack short jokes with you here and there.
"Bebita, come look at this!" Miguel yells from his in front of your bedroom's television. "What is it, Miguel?" you ask, peaking your head out of the bathroom. "They say it's going to be windy today," He juts his chin towards the TV screen before refocusing on tying his tie. "Take precaution." "Miguel," you scoff. "What? I don't want you getting swept up by the wind." "Okay, firstly, you know damn well-"
If you're taller than him, Miguel also has jokes for that.
"Bebita, could you please pass me that plate over there?" Miguel asks, pointing his chin at a cabinet shelf that is directly at eye level with him. "Miguel," you give him a pointed look. He shrugs at you, continuing to wash the dishes. "Hey, don't put things up so high if you don't want me to ask you to get them." (For the next week, you started putting all the dishes in the bottom drawer)
The jokes, however, are only reserved for him. If anyone else makes a joke about your height, Miguel gets upset. Just ask Hobie. One time, Hobie asked you how you couldn't tell him what the weather was like from up there (all in good fun) and Miguel, who had no context of the conversation and walked in at the wrong time almost crucified him.
Miguel secretly loves how you two look together. As the head of the Spider Society (again, he likes to be the big, scary boss man), he enjoys the presence that you two create together. Domineering, commanding. Whether you two are in uniform or formal clothing - when you two talk, people listen.
If you work out, Miguel loves to go to the gym with you. Not only because he likes to see you in workout gear (though trust him, that is a very, very, very big plus) but because he finally has somebody who understands the struggle of putting on (visible) muscle.
Miguel loves kisses with you. He's always been very big physical touch in relationships but never before has it been so easy to just steal a kiss. And so, it has been become his favorite pastime.
Miguel loves to see you in dresses and shorts and heels. Anything that accentuates your height. Sometimes when you come home, you see a dress or a new pair of shoes that you've been wanting. However, other times, you find an article of clothing or shoes from a brand that you didn't even know existed. But if it's jeans or a maxi dress, they always cover your legs, if it's a regular shirt, your stomach isn't exposed, and whatever it is always looks good on you.
Sometimes when cuddling, Miguel will just start tracing and/or kneading random parts of your body because there's just so much of you to love and he doesn't know where to start.
At the end of each and every day, no matter if you're taller or shorter than him, Miguel likes to make you feel safe and protected. He likes to play the role of protector/provider and makes you feel taken care of and comfortable.
Bonus: "Your children are going to be some stallions, ain't they?" Hobie says, looking between you and Miguel. You laugh but Miguel glares at him with a scowl that would make most start running for the hills. "Stallions, eh?" you repeat later that night, in bed with him. While not a fan of you slowly assimilating to Hobie's humor, Miguel chuckles dryly and pulls you closer to him. "Indeed," he says, placing a kiss to the top of your head.
#astv x black reader#astv x reader#astv x y/n#astv x you#miguel o'hara#miguel spiderverse#atsv miguel#miguel x reader#miguel spiderman#spiderman 2099#spiderman astv#miguel atsv#miguel 2099#miguel x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel 2099 x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara fanfiction#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara x black reader#miguel o hara#miguel fanfic#across the spiderverse#spiderman atsv#spiderman across the spiderverse
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When in Bloom
Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader
A Family of Her Own Series
10/10
Masterlist | General Masterlist
w/c: 7.9k
Summary: After the fall of the Avengers, Natasha Romanoff returns home to her secret familyâa life she's carefully hidden away for years. Struggling to balance her role as a mother and wife while avoiding the dangers of her past, Natasha is forced to make difficult decisions that impact her loved ones.
This Chapter: Natasha makes the ultimate sacrifice.
Note: I spent my entire Sunday writing this. I paused and rewound the movie 50 times. I utilized ChatGPT to help me with timelines. I read the script. I pulled out all the resources to ensure I did my big one for y'all. Special shoutout to Grammarly Premium for making my writing look and sound professional-like. Enjoy =)
Breakfast was always something Natasha found important. In her mind, it was more than just a meal; it was the fuel that powered her through the day. She never skipped it, a rare and comforting constant in her life. Even now, in a quiet city apartment far removed from the chaos of her past, the ritual of making breakfast each morning grounded her.
In the Red Room, food was always viewed strictly as fuel, something utilitarian and calculated. She never spoke much about those years, especially not with Nickyâhe was still too young to understand, and she didnât want that darkness clouding his view of her. But she could remember the harsh regimens, the rigid routines, the lessons drilled into her: taking care of herself wasnât a luxury; it was mandatory. A weak Widow was a liability; weakness was something she had never been allowed to show.
She tried not to think too deeply about what her training had left her withâit was just one more thing in a long line of things that had happened to her.
"Mama, I'm almost ready," Nicky shuffled to the room with his laces untied and jacket hanging from his body. Ollie walked with him at his tail. He sat next to Natasha, looking up with big, hopeful eyes.
"I don't have anything for you, sweet boy," Natasha smiled apologetically. Ollie whined and laid his head on the floor. Natasha turned away from the dog to inspect Nicky. He was sitting on the floor, his hands attempting to tie his laces as his little tongue stuck out.
"What do you need, Myshka?" Natasha asked, and Nicky held his foot up.
"I can't do the knots, they're too small."
Natasha smiled and tied his shoes. She stood up, and Nicky followed suit, his coat fully zipped and his backpack slung over his shoulders.
"Can we stop for hot chocolate on the way to school?"
"I made breakfast," Natasha shook her head.
"Eggs and toast again?" He asked as he sat at the table.
"Eggs and toast," Natasha nodded. It was all she knew how to make without burning.
"Okay," Nicky sighed, "but I want a donut tomorrow."
Natasha rolled her eyes.
"We'll see," she answered.
"It's a promise!" He said.
"You know how I feel about those," she chided. "I don't make them unless I can follow through."
Nicky dug into his eggs and toast with a resigned but good-natured sigh; Natasha sat across from him, her phone buzzing softly on the table. Sheâd promised herself that breakfast would always be their time, uninterrupted, but the messages were piling up.
Okoye: "Natasha, weâre seeing unusual cartel activity in Mexico City. I think itâs Barton."
Rhodes: "Saw the same. We have casualties this timeâheâs not holding back anymore. Might be time to intervene."
She rubbed her temples, reading over each message carefully. It had been like this for months: catching glimpses of Bartonâs brutal one-man war, getting vague reports, but never close enough to reach him. And each new incident seemed to confirm what she already knewâClint was spiraling, slipping further away with every mission.
Nicky munched on his toast, his little eyes flitting between her and Ollie, who was sulking on the floor. She gave him a quick smile, trying to shake the tension out of her shoulders, and typed a response.
"I'm on it. I'll be at the compound in an hour," She typed.
"Who's that?" Nicky asked, his eyes still watching Ollie.
"A friend," Natasha said, putting her phone down. "They're working on a case."
"The Avenger kind of case?"
"Exactly the kind," she nodded.
"Can I go on a mission with you someday?"
"Hmm, you have to finish first grade and learn to tie your shoes," She said. "Then we can talk."
Nicky finished the rest of his breakfast, and Natasha helped him clean up and get his backpack ready. As she grabbed her jacket, Natasha saw a message flash from another chat, this one from Nora.
Nora: "Hey, are we still on for tonight? Let me know what youâre in the mood for."
Theyâd only met a few months ago, but Natasha was easing into an unlikely friendship with Nora. They both tried to ignore the fact that they'd almost slept together. Their camaraderie was something she needed during this time. Someone who didn't know her world. Someone as a listening ear.
She hadnât told Nora much about her past or workâwhat she could share, anywayâbut Nora seemed to sense her guardedness and never pressed for more.
Natasha quickly typed back:
Natasha: "Still on for tonight. Maybe something low-key? Letâs catch up."
She tucked the phone into her jacket pocket and helped Nicky and Ollie out of the apartment, locking the door behind them.
Their walk to his bus stop was uneventful. Nicky counted the steps to the corner, babbling to her about something she had no idea about. Traffic at this time was nonexistent, especially after the Snap. It was just her, Nicky, and Ollie walking, their steps in sync.
"Remember your homework and ensure you're practicing your cursive," she reminded him.
"I know, I will," Nicky huffed.
"Have a good day at school," Natasha said, crouching down to Nicky's level. "I love you, always."
"Love you too," he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "Bye, Ollie!"
He ran off, his backpack bouncing with him, as he met the other children at the bus stop. The bus rolled in, and the children all piled in. Natasha stayed until the doors shut, and the bus disappeared from her view.
This was their normal.
********
The training room was quiet, and the soft hum of electricity was all around her. She could hear the shuffling of her feet and the clank of the bag as it hit the floor.
It had taken Natasha a while, but she found her rhythm again. She stood in front of the mirror, wearing a simple black shirt and sweatpants, her feet grounded to the floor as she pulled her hair into a tight, controlled bun. Her fingers moved with practiced precision, twisting and pinning the strands into place as if the routine and discipline would quiet the noise in her mind. Every movement felt deliberate, a small act of control.
The soft padding of her shoes across the floor felt comforting as she moved to the center of the room. She stretched, her arms reaching above her head, bending into a series of quiet, fluid motions. There was a certain peace in this, a kind of grace she hadnât known she needed until she found it again.
She moved through pirouettes, the motion sharp and fluid before she landed softly back onto the floor. Natasha paused, standing tall, breathing steady. She was a soldier. A leader. A mother. But for this moment, she was just a woman, letting her body regain balance.
When she had the time, she would sit in this training room. Sometimes, she'd cry. Other times, she would dance when her mind and body needed it.
Today, she'd danced.
Her hands came up in a strong pose, her right leg pointed, and her left hand raised.
The music started with a quiet melody.
Her muscles remembered. Her body knew what to do.
Natasha took a deep breath, and then she began to dance.
The ache in her chest seemed to tighten with every motion, a dull, constant throb she couldn't shake. It wasn't the physical exhaustion, the burn in her legs from stretching too far, too longâit was the grief, the absence, a constant reminder of what had been taken from her.
The anniversary was coming up. Eight and a half years together. She tried not to think about it, but the numbers wouldn't leave her alone. Five years lost. It felt impossible to imagine what those years might have been. What would life be like now if it were not for the Snap? If not for the universe tearing itself apart?
Stella would be nine. Natasha could almost picture it: a small girl with dark, wild curls and an infectious smile. Her eyes would have sparkled with the same mischief as you. She would have been old enough to start thinking about her future and to ask questions that Natasha would have been too tired to answer. But you'd have done it together, as a family.
Natasha stopped suddenly, her foot hitting the ground hard.
A lump had formed in her throat, and the tears threatened to spill.
The pain was like a knife, a sudden, violent stabbing deep inside.
There may have been another baby by now. Maybe she'd have been thinking about balancing the mission, the children, the quiet mornings, and the long days filled with reports and decisions. She'd have retired by now. She'd have given up avenging, given up this life of constant motion, just to hold onto the people she loved.
Her mind wandered, remembering how youâd looked when you held Stella for the first time, the joy in your eyes as you held that tiny life. Natasha wanted to hold onto that memory. She wanted to feel the weight of her daughter in her arms again. But she couldnât.
Her foot faltered as she spun, the motion too sharp and quick. She caught herself, steadying on one leg before continuing the movement. Her body knew the steps. It was the heart that was falling behind. She could push through itâshe always had.
But today, the ache felt too much to ignore. She wished for a moment that she could turn off the grief, pretend that it wasnât there, that it didnât eat at her every time she saw a family or a couple. Every time she saw a child running through a park or a mom at the grocery store. Every time, she thought about the future she would never have.
*********
Natasha sat among the ring of holo-screens, only half listening to the chatter from each team member. Rocket, Carol, Okoye, Nebula, and Rhodey spoke, trading updates and frustrations across the galaxy. She held a small peanut butter container in her hand, absentmindedly scooping out spoonfuls as she listened. The sandwich in front of her remained untouched. The familiar, salty taste grounded her, though it did little to quell the churn of thoughts spiraling within her.
The screen shifted to Rocket, whose frustrated voice was loud and clear.
Rocket's voice rang from the Halo. "So, thanks for the hot tip."
Natasha smirked a little despite herself, watching the banter continue between him and Carol. But her mind kept flickering back to the breakfast she'd rushed with Nicky, how she'd promised him sheâd be home after her day at the compound. She'd need Nora to pick him up from school again.
Carolâs voice cut through the chatter. "The things that have been happening on Earth have been happening everywhere else. On thousands of planets. You might not see me for a long time."
Natasha swallowed another spoonful of peanut butter, feeling the weight of Carol's words settle over her. It was a reminder of just how enormous this loss wasâthis endless damage, stretching farther than anyone could have imagined. Sheâd stayed, kept her footing here, but even her little world seemed to be slipping. Her family was fractured, Barton somewhere out there in the shadows, and her friends scattered across the world, each dealing with their own aftermath.
"All right. Everybody keep keeping their eyes open... This channelâs always active. Anything goes sideways, anyone makes trouble where they shouldnât, it comes through me." She said.
One by one, the screens blinked out, each goodbye leaving her feeling slightly lonelier. Only Rhodey remained. She knew what heâd say before he even started.
"FederalĂŠs found a room full of bodies outside Juarez. Cartel guys... Guns still in their pants. Same MO as Marseille. And Kiev."
Her chest tightened, the peanut butter sticking in her throat. She nodded grimly, acknowledging what she'd known was coming but dreaded to hear.
"Itâs definitely Barton," Rhodey said.
The confirmation settled in her like a lead weight. Clint was too far gone, and whatever had driven him to this point was something she couldnât pull him back fromânot yet. Her fingers clenched the spoon tighter, and she stared at the empty container. Sheâd been so focused on keeping things together, on somehow pulling everyone else back into orbit, that she hadnât noticed just how close she was to breaking herself.
"What heâs done here...what heâs been doing...I got to tell you, part of me doesnât want to find him." Rhodey continued.
Natasha let out a long breath, steadying herself. She had to keep it together for Nicky, Clint, and everyone else who still counted on her to lead them through this unsteady world.
"Find out where heâs going next." She fought through the tears to hold it together. She took a bite of her sandwich, hoping to ease her tears, before dropping it onto the plate.
Rhodey nodded, the screen flickering off, leaving her alone. She rubbed her eyes, letting herself sink back for a long, quiet moment. She didnât know how long sheâd sat there when she heard a familiar voice from the doorway.
"Iâd offer to cook you dinner, but you seem sad enough already."
She looked up, eyes weary, but a small smile breaking through. Steve could always tell.
Natasha turned to see Steve standing in the doorway, his arms crossed as he watched her.
"Come by to do your laundry?" she asked, arching a brow.
"And see a friend," he replied.
She forced a small smile. "Your friendâs fine."
Steve raised an eyebrow, his expression softening with the familiar look he reserved for her. "She leave the house today?"
"Nothing out there I particularly want to see."
"I spotted a pod of whales coming over the bridge," he said, almost wistfully. "Closer to the city than Iâve ever seen them."
A faint, half-hearted smile tugged at Natashaâs lips. "Guess natureâs making a comeback, huh? Nice to know someoneâs doing alright."
They fell into silence, and Steve watched her, something unspoken settling in the quiet. He leaned against the doorframe.
"Howâs Nicky?"
Natasha's face softened at the mention of her son, her usual guarded expression slipping just a little.
"Growing faster than I can keep up with," she murmured, almost to herself. "Heâs asking a lot of questions these days. Hard questions."
Steve nodded, his voice gentle. "Heâs smart, like his mom."
She let out a small, tired laugh, glancing down. "Smart... yeah. And stubborn. Keeps me on my toes."
"Sounds like heâs a lot like you."
She shook her head, smiling faintly, before looking back at the table where her half-eaten sandwich sat. "Heâs everything we hoped heâd be. Kind, curious... Sometimes, I wonder if heâs too gentle for this world. For whatâs left of it, anyway."
A heavy silence followed her words, and Steve moved a step closer, an understanding look in his eyes.
"Heâs got you to look out for him. And youâre both stronger than you think."
Natasha gave a small nod, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her coffee cup. "Maybe."
After a long moment, Steve looked up at her, his gaze steady, honest.
"Group was interesting. I keep telling them to move on. Grow past it," he said, his voice laced with something like resignation. "And some of them actually do. But not us."
Natasha held his gaze, the weight of it settling heavily between them. "If I move on," she murmured, "who does this?"
"Maybe it doesnât need to be done," he replied quietly.
The words lingered, sinking into her. Steve was thinking of letting go. She could see the traces of weariness on his face and how he looked around the compound.
She glanced around, taking in the remnants of what had once been their team, their family. "I used to have nothing," she said softly. "Then I got this. This job, this family..."
Her voice caught, a flash of grief breaking through her carefully composed exterior. She took a breath, collecting herself.
"And even though theyâre gone, Iâm still trying to be... better."
Steveâs expression softened. "I think we both need to get a life."
She let out a small, almost hollow laugh. "You first."
He gave her a slight smile, then tilted his head, looking at her curiously. "What about Nora?"
Natashaâs face shifted, her smile fading. "Itâs nothing," she said, brushing it off. Her gaze fell, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want my family back, Steve. My wife... Stella..."
A deep silence settled over them. Steve nodded slowly, understanding without needing any more words.
"We did our best, Nat," he murmured. "There wasn't anything more we could have done."
"That's the difficult part," She nodded.
They stared at each other, a long, quiet moment of shared melancholy. The silence wrapped around them, a reminder of all theyâd lost and the people who werenât there to share it with them anymore.
Then, a sudden ping broke through the silence. Natasha looked down at her console, swiping to a CCTV display, her eyes widening in surprise as she took in the sight on the screen.
Scott Langâs face filled the monitor, his expression hopeful yet bewildered, with Luisâs old van parked behind him.
âHello?â Scottâs voice crackled through the speakers. âIs anyone home? This is, uh, Scott Lang? We met a few years ago. At the airport?â
Steve leaned in, frowning as he watched Scott on the screen. âThis an old message?â
Natasha shook her head, stunned. âItâs the front gate.â
********
Vormir
Natasha and Clint were climbing, their breathing ragged from the exhaustion of the long ascent. The mountain seemed endless, and with every step, Natasha felt the air become thinner. It was suffocating. Her thighs were burning, her legs shaking, but she pushed through, her heart pounding in her ears as they reached the top of the cliff.
They approach an archway carved into the mountain's face, and Clint mutters to himself.
"Really starting to regret my choice here," Clint said half-jokingly.
Natasha exhaled, a dry laugh escaping her lips despite the gravity of the situation. She didn't answer immediately, her mind racing. "Yeah. I'm going to bet the raccoon didn't have to climb a mountain."
"I donât think technically heâs a raccoon..." Clint grinned.
"Whatever. He eats garbage." She cut him off. But as Clint spoke, Natasha's smile faded, her gaze distant as she took a few more steps, each one harder than the last. There was a tightness in her chest, a knot that grew with each breath.
For a moment, the mountain felt less like a physical challenge and more like an emotional one. Every part of her wanted to stop, to tell Clint it was not worth it, but she couldnât. She couldn't. Suddenly, the sound of footsteps caught their attention. They turned, guns drawn, ready for a fight.
"I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me," The hooded figure affirmed.
"Creepy," Clint commented.
"Welcome, Natasha, daughter of Ivan." The hooded figure gestured to her. "Clint, son of Edith."
"Creepier." He murmured.
"Who are you?" Natasha asked.
"Consider me a guide. To you and to all who seek the Soul Stone."
Their journey ended here.
********
"If we donât get the stone, billions of people are going to stay dead." She said firmly.
Clintâs face was grim, but there was no question in his eyes. He knew what was coming. He already knew whatâs been weighing on both of them.
"Then I guess we both know who it has to be,"
There was a pause. A beat where emotion played all over their faces - pain, love, heartbreak. Natasha looked at Clint, and something on her face shifted.
"Yeah, I guess we do," She said.
"I'm starting to think we don't mean the same person," Clint tilted his chin. "Nicky needs a mother."
"And he'll have her," Natasha said. As Natasha began to pull away, her heart beating rapidly in her chest, something changed.
Suddenly, the world around them shuddered. A strange, heavy pressure filled the air, like reality was bending. Natasha stumbled, her eyes snapping around, searching for the source. The ground trembled.
Suddenly she was alone.
"You think this is the end of your choice? I think youâll find... itâs just the beginning." Red Skull's voice played around her ominously. She searched for the source but couldn't find it.
"What the hell," She cried out.
Before she could process what was happening, the world shifted again. The landscape around her warped, colors bleeding into one another as if she'd stepped through a rift into another plane of existence. Natasha closed her eyes as a wave of nausea washed over her. She only listened to her breathing and her senses until her feet hit solid ground. She could hear the running of water. If she could guess, it was a stream or... a river.
"What is this place?" She asked as she blinked her eyes open. Red Skull stood before her. Natasha looked around, hoping to find her bearings, but nothing gave her the indication that she was still on Vormir or Earth. It seemed like a purgatory of sorts. Someone else's dream.
"Youâve come this far. But I think you deserve more than just a simple end. A choice so greatâperhaps you should have the chance to reconsider." Red Skull explained.
"What do you want from me?" She demanded. "Where's Clint?"
"I offer you a choiceâone you may not have considered. A way out. A chance to undo it all... in a different form." He ignored her questions, only causing more confusion.
"Whatâs your game, Skull? What are you talking about?" She stepped closer to him. "I swear to-"
"Mama?" A voice called. Natasha froze. Her heart skipped a beat, the world narrowing into a single point of focus. That voice. Her heart dropped and then soared all at once. She didn't understand how, but she knew exactly who it was. Her stomach churned.
She turned around, her eyes scanning the familiar landscape, and then there she was.
Stella was the same age as when the Snap happened. Natashaâs breath caught in her throat. Her hair was the sameâsoft, messy curls that fell around her face. Her eyes were just as bright as those vivid green eyes that Natasha had only seen in her dreams. The little girl looked up at her, pure joy in her expression, a smile that could light up the entire world.
"Hi, Mama," Stella grinned up at her. Her face was unchanged, frozen in time. She looked just as Natasha remembered. Still three. Still lost in a world that didn't seem to age her.
Natashaâs heart felt like it would shatter. She rushed toward her daughter, closing the distance in a heartbeat. She pulled Stella into her arms, holding her so tightly it almost hurt. Her eyes stung with tears she couldn't contain.
"I donât... I donât understand. Howâhow are you here? You... youâreâ"
But before she could finish, Stella pulled back slightly, her little face furrowed with confusion.
"Where is Mommy?" She asked
"Oh God." Natasha choked back a sob. She wants to say something, but she doesn't have the words. It was too much.
"Why is Mommy not here?" Stella's confusion turned to frustration. "You said Mommy was coming." Stella directed her anger at the Red Skull.
"Stella..." Natasha began.
Natashaâs world tilted on its axis. She held Stella tighter, her mind racing. A thousand questions rushed through her thoughts. How was this possible? What was happening to her?
But the reality of her daughter, thereânowâoverpowered every rational thought. The warmth of her childâs embrace was a lifeline, pulling her away from the edge of the unknown.
"I'll find Mommy, don't worry," Natasha soothed the little girl. "We'll find her together."
She rubbed her daughterâs back, trying to keep herself from breaking down. Her emotions were a whirlwindârelief, pain, confusion. But something didn't feel right. Something was off.
"I offer you a choice." Red Skull interrupted their reunion. "Stay here, in this moment, with your daughter, forever trapped in the purgatory, or return to the world you know... in a different form. I can give you a new life, a new beginningâa second chance at everything. But there is a price, of course."
Natashaâs breath hitched. "What's the price? What happened to giving up a soul?"
"You will be reincarnated. Your soul, your essence, will live again in a new body. Youâll be free from the pain of this life and the burden of the past. But you will lose everything you know. Youâll forget this life, your memories, your loved onesâyour daughter. You will be someone else."
"So either way, I'd die," Natasha guessed. She licked her lips nervously. "Either way, the people I love will lose me. How is this better than the other deal?"
"Not death, Natasha. Rebirth. A chance to begin again, free from the weight of your past. But yes, in this new life, you will forget. The pain, the grief... and the love. Your soul will live again, but it will be untethered, unburdened by the memories of this life. It will be a clean slate.
"So I get to live again but lose everything I ever cared about? I donât even get to remember the people Iâve fought for, the ones Iâve sacrificed everything for. Youâre telling me to give up my life again?" She shook her head. "I would forget her. I would forget all of them."
"You will gain something more valuableâfreedom. You will be someone else, someone better, with no shackles. No more ghosts of the past, no more running. You will be given a chance to make a new path. But there is no turning back once you choose. Once your soul is reborn, it will not remember this moment. You will be free of the pain of your past... but also the joy of those moments, those people."
Natasha swallowed hard, her mind racing. The thought of losing everything she fought forâthe memories, the bonds sheâs built, especially with her daughterâtwisted like a knife in her chest. But the idea of freedom and redemption tempted her in a way she couldn't ignore.
"And if I choose the other way? To stay here, to die for the stone... Whatâs the difference? Isnât it all just... an end?" She said quietly to herself.
"The difference is that you remain as you are in this choice. You will stay in this moment, this world, and be trapped in it. Without her. A death without peace, a loss without redemption. The universe will continue without you."
A beat passed as Natasha processed the weight of his words. She wanted to scream, to demand more answers. She wanted to tear through this reality, but all she could do was stare at Stella, her little face looking at her with that innocent, trusting look. That face is the one thing that keeps pulling her heart in two directionsâback toward this strange, illusory world where she can hold her daughter or forward toward an unknown fate, a second chance.
"Why would I choose freedom if it means losing everything that made me who I am? Whatâs the point of living again if I canât remember why I fought so hard to be here in the first place?" She frowned. "Do they come back? Does Nicky get his mother and his sister?"
"The people you love will remember you. They will mourn you. They will grieve, but they will move on. They will find a way to live without you, and eventually, the wounds will heal. It will not be the same, but there will be peace, eventually."
"I donât want to forget... I donât want to forget her. I canât." Her voice broke. She was crying now.
"You are not choosing to forget her. You are choosing to give her a future. A future where the world is saved, where the people you love have a chance to live. That is the sacrifice you make. The world needs you, Natasha Romanoff, more than your memories."
"And if I choose not to live again? What happens then?"
Red Skullâs gaze sharpened, his voice heavy with the finality of his words.
"Then you will die, and the universe will continue without you."
The reality of his words sank in, a heaviness weighing her down. She was faced with an impossible choiceâdie and have the possibility of everyone coming back or reincarnating with the same result.
Her fingers traced the outline of her wedding band, the cold metal a reminder of all she had lost.
"Why me?" She asked suddenly. Red Skull looked at her with something close to pity, though it was difficult to read on his stone-like face."Does everyone get this option?"
âNo,â he replied, his voice cold but edged with something elseâsomething ancient. âNot everyone. Only those whose actions have carried weightâthose whose sacrifices have been⌠significant. Youâve walked a path of endless struggle. Death has followed you, yet you fight; you sacrifice, again and again, not just for others but for a purpose greater than yourself. It is rare to see such a soul. That is why I offer this choice to you.â
Natasha absorbed his words, her mind racing. Her life had always been a series of choices, but this⌠this was different. A chance to leave it all behind and be reborn, or to give everything, including herself, to save others.
Her thoughts drifted to Stella, still tucked in her arms, her innocent eyes full of love and trust. Could she really leave this behind? Could she live with the knowledge that the mother her children knew would never return to them?
âWhy me?â Natasha repeated, her voice soft but unwavering. âWhy offer this to me and not to someone else? There have been countless others whoâve given everything⌠so why now?â
Red Skull didn't answer immediately, the silence hanging heavily in the air.
Red Skull's gaze softened, just for a moment. âBecause you are more than what you think yourself to be. You have been a weapon, a force of destruction, and a beacon of hope. Youâve fought against fate, against what you thought you were destined for. This is your moment to choose what you wish your legacy to be. Either way, you shape your own fate.â
Natasha stood still, her heart thundering. Red Skull waited for her decision. The silence hung heavy between them, thick with the moment's gravity.
Natasha swallowed, her hand tightening into a fist at her side. "And if I choose to leave? To reincarnateâwhat happens to them? To Clint, to my team⌠my daughter?"
"They will live," Red Skull said, his voice almost too calm, too sure. "They will carry on, their memories untouched. But you will be gone. Your place in the universe will be filled by someone else."
Natasha closed her eyes, the words weighing heavy on her. It was an impossible decision, one she couldnât fathom.
"I can't," she whispered. "I can't choose."
"Mama," Stella questioned. It seemed she was waiting for an answer, too.
"I'm sorry," Natasha let the tears fall this time. "I'm so sorry, Solnyshko." She whimpered.
Red Skull looked at her, his expression almost sympathetic.
"It is not a choice, Natasha. It is a sacrifice. One you have already made."
"Okay, okay, I'm ready." Natasha breathed. "I'm sorry, baby." She kissed Stella's forehead. She could only hope you would forgive her.
*********
"It was supposed to be me. She sacrificed her life for that goddamn stone. She bet her life on it," Clint ranted. "She jumped, and one of us had to explain this to Nicky."
Thor and Banner exchanged puzzled glances. The tension in the room is thick; Clintâs grief is a raw wound, and their shared loss weighs on everyone. But thisâthis was something they hadnât anticipated.
"Who is Nicky?" Bruce questioned.
Clintâs shoulders slumped as if the question's weight was too much. He took a shuddering breath, his gaze fixed on the floor.
âNickyâs her son,â he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. âNat didnât talk about him much⌠she didnât want to endanger him. She kept him safe, hidden, but heâs⌠heâs still so young.â
âAre you telling us that Nat⌠that she left behind a child?â Bruce asked gently, his voice filled with concern.
Clint nodded, swallowing hard. âShe did it for him, you know. She did it for all of us, for everyone that got snapped. But he was part of that, too. Part of the reason sheâŚâ He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Thorâs expression shifted from confusion to a deep, somber respect. âA motherâs sacrifice⌠to protect her child,â he murmured almost reverent.
"Children," Tony supplied.
"What?" Clint looked at Tony.
"There were two children. She had Stella," Tony reminded him. "It was for them. For her wife."
Clint glanced up, anger and anguish flashing in his eyes. âAnd now heâs alone. Sheâs gone, and heâs got no one.â His voice cracked as he stumbled over the words. âWhoâs going to be there for him? Whoâs going to tell him why his mom never came back?â
Bruce placed a comforting hand on Clintâs shoulder, his eyes sincere. âThen weâll be there for him,â he promised. âIf Natashaâs son needs family, heâs got us. Whatever he needsâsupport, protection, anything.â
Thor nodded firmly, the resolve clear in his gaze. âWe owe her that much. And Iâll ensure he knows exactly who his mother wasâa warrior, a hero. The bravest among us.â
That landed heavily among all of them.
*********
You'd been appalled when Happy suggested a joint funeral for Tony and Natasha. The idea left a bitter taste in your mouth. A funeral for Natashaâyour Natashaâsounded absurd. She wasnât gone. She couldnât be. Not her.
Youâd spent five years in limbo, caught between one breath and the next, with no awareness of the time passing. One moment, you were home in Missouri, watching your children play in the den, and the next⌠nothing. It wasnât like sleep or even unconsciousness. It was as if you simply didnât exist. And then, just as suddenly, you were back. But the world you returned to had shifted and moved forward in ways you couldnât yet wrap your mind around.
Nicky had grown so much taller than you remembered. No longer the little boy youâd kissed goodnight, he was older now, with five years of life etched into his features, years youâd missed as his mother. The last time you saw him, he was just one year old, approaching his second birthday, which you'd planned together. Now, at eight, he was still small but no longer the toddler you had once held in your arms.
In some ways, he was a stranger, a person with a life outside your knowledge. You missed five years of his life.
And now, with no warning, the universe had ripped away the only constant in your life.
It didn't make sense. The universe had brought you back only to take her away. She couldn't be gone.
So you refused the funeral. It was a denial, an attempt to reject the reality thrust upon you. You didnât need a funeral for someone who wasn't dead. She would come home. You wouldn't bury an empty casket.
And then you looked at your childrenâtwo pieces of your heart, tethering you to a reality you could hardly stand. You wanted to honor Natasha, for them, if nothing else. None of this made sense. None of it felt right. But you knew you had to push forward.
That morning, you dressed them with shaking hands, pausing often to steady yourself. Your eyes were bloodshot from a night spent wrestling with grief, exhaustion, and disbelief. Youâd barely slept, remembering Natasha and the impossible circumstances that had brought you here. But for Nicky and Stella, you had to keep going.
They sat before you now in Tonyâs lake house, their small, trusting faces watching you closely. Everyone else was waiting downstairsâthe Avengers, friends from all over, people whose lives she had touched. But before you joined them, you needed this quiet moment with your children to prepare them for the hardest goodbye any of you had ever faced.
"It's time for us to say goodbye to Mama," You breathed. You took both of their hands and kissed each of them. "I know we don't want to. This is the last thing I want to do, but..."
Stella was staring at her feet, a sullen, pained look on her face.
"It's going to be hard. I'm gonna miss her, too," You told him. "But we're gonna get through it. We're gonna be okay."
You turned to Nicky. He was watching you, his face serious. He'd been quiet all morning, barely speaking. He'd lost both parents at different periods of his life. He didn't know what to make of the idea that this was his reality.
"Do you have questions?" You asked him. "About anything?"
"Is Mama... is she coming back?"
You took a deep breath. "No, Nicky. She's not."
He looked down at his shoes, his little eyebrows drawn together. You wanted to hold him and make the pain disappear, but you couldn't. He barely knew you. It would take more than the days you'd known each other for him to trust you. The Snap had taken that bond away from you.
"We'll always remember her. And she'll never forget us," You promised. "Okay?"
"Okay," he said softly.
You looked at Stella. She was probably so confused. You tugged at the skirt of her dress to get her attention.
"Baby, you alright?" You asked.
"Mama's not dead," She cried. "Why is Mama dead?"
Your heart broke into a million pieces.
"Oh, baby." You knelt and pulled her into a hug. "I'm so sorry. I wish she were here."
"Where is she?"
"She's in heaven. She's with Grandma and Pop-Pop. They're taking care of her."
"But why?" Her lip trembled. It was in that way that always broke your heart.
"The world was a very bad place, and she sacrificed herself to fix it. She was a hero. She saved everyone, including you and Nicky."
"But why does that mean Mama's gone? Why can't she stay?"
You tried to blink away the tears forming.
"Sometimes things happen, and there's no reason, no logic. Sometimes, people leave, and we can't understand why."
"I want Mama. I don't want her to go," Stella's eyes watered. "Please."
"I know, baby. I know. So do I. I'm so sorry."
Stella leaned her head against your chest, her body shaking as she cried. You ran your hand through her hair and held her close, willing your warmth to be enough for the both of you.
Neihter of you were ready but it was something you had to do.
*********
Walking out of the lake house behind Pepper, Morgan, and Peter felt overwhelmed. It felt so wrong. There was no way Natasha was gone. You wanted to turn and run, find a way out of this reality, this nightmare. You scanned the crowd, noticing familiar faces and others you'd only ever heard about through Natashaâs storiesâa reminder of the secrecy you had kept to protect your family.
Clint and Laura met your eyes, offering quiet support, and you gave them a faint, shaky smile in return. Nicky clung tightly to your hand, his other hand holding a small bundle of Natashaâs favorite flowers. You adjusted Stella on your hip, feeling the weight of her tiny arms wrapped around you, grounding you in this surreal moment.
As you stepped closer to the water's edge, you noticed the questioning looks of some of the people gathered there. They didnât know who you were; they didnât know Natashaâs family had quietly existed all this time. Ignoring the stares, you focused on what you came here to do, offering Natasha this final act of love.
Pepper placed her flowers gently on the water, a quiet tribute to Tony. Then, with a soft nudge, you guided Nicky forward. He stepped up, his small fingers trembling as he let the flowers slip into the lake. Nicky's dog, Ollie, had darted out of the house and now pressed his nose against Nicky's hand, sensing the boyâs sadness.
"Goodbye, Tony," he said softly, his eyes shining with tears. "Goodbye, Mama."
Pepper reached for him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Then she did the same for you and Stella, her expression solemn.
"Bye, Tony," Stella murmured, her face pressed against your chest. "Bye-bye, Mama."
Stella didn't know him. She didn't have memories of Tony, but she felt compelled to follow in her brother's steps.
You listened as Pepper began speaking, sharing memories of Tony and words of remembrance. You held it together, swallowing back the ache in your chest as her voice wavered over the water. She looked at you when she finished, nodding gentlyâit was your turn.
Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward, holding Stella close, and faced the gathering.
"Natasha is..." You breathed. That wasn't right. "Natasha was my wife." You began. "She was a wife and a mother." You looked down at Nicky's proud eyes. "She loved harder than anyone I'd ever known. She was kind and strong and loyal."
You swallowed hard, blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall.
"But above all, she was brave. She was the bravest woman I'd ever met. And we will miss her. Every day. Every second. We will carry her memory with us." You sighed. "For eight long years, Natasha was my rock. Long before then, she was my everything. She gave me two beautiful children. Two amazing little humans who made every moment worth it. They remind me so much of her. A lot of you never knew about me. Never knew about us. It was better that way. Our own little secret. This family was something only we knew."
"But I'm telling you now because... If anyone needs to know about Natasha and how incredible she was, it's the people here. You knew her better than anyone. You've shared her battles, her victories. She was part of your family. So, for everyone who's not part of mine, let me share it with you. Let me tell you about her." You continued. You felt stronger the more you talked. "Having a person makes life easier to live. Having Natasha made my life so much better. She was the best thing that ever happened to me."
You felt a tear slide down your cheek. "Natasha and I didn't meet under ideal circumstances. She was a spy, and I was an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. We worked together on missions. Eventually, those late nights turned into something more. I was lucky enough to know her as a teammate. Later, I got to see the other side of her, the one only a few people knew. She was a good person. One of the best."
Your eyes found Clint's, and he nodded in understanding. He was the one who'd first introduced you.
"It wasn't always easy. Life never is. There were times when it was difficult. Hard choices, difficult sacrifices. But she always made sure to make things right, no matter what it cost her."
You wiped away a stray tear and took a shuddering breath.
"We will never forget her. Not a day will go by when I don't think about her. Her sacrifice will be felt for generations." You sniffed. "I can't promise I won't spend every waking moment wishing she were here. Wishing I could kiss her or hold her or hear her voice one more time. I'll do whatever it takes to ensure our children never forget her. She deserved better. A long, happy life. A future with all of us."
The dam burst, and you held back a sob. Pepper's soothing hand rubbed your back. She felt this grief, too.
"But if there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that sometimes things just don't go the way we plan. And that's okay. We'll figure out how to move forward without her. We'll carry her in our hearts and minds and keep living the best lives we can."
*********
It had been three weeks of slowly packing away Natashaâs life, boxing up memories and fragments of her identity. Clearing out her apartment felt surreal; each item you wrapped and labeled was a bittersweet reminder. The decision to move Nicky away from his childhood home had been hard, but you knew it was time for a fresh start, somewhere the kids could grow and heal.
At precisely 8 a.m., the moving truck pulled up, ready to transport everything to your new brownstone. Natashaâs SUV idled in the street as you trailed behind the movers, the last piece you had yet to part with. It wasnât as if you needed it in New York, but something about selling it felt too final, like letting go of another piece of her.
You ran a hand along the dashboard, the smell of Natasha still lingering, even after all this time. Going back to Missouri felt even harderâthat was the home you had chosen together. Youâd have to make the trip eventually to pack it up, but the thought alone made your chest tighten.
Lost in thought, you were brought back to reality by a voice from the backseat.
âNo, Iâm the big sister!â Stella was arguing, her voice firm with a tiny pout on her face.
You turned around, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. âStella, honey, youâre not the big sister anymore. Nickyâs older than you.â
Stella scrunched her nose in defiance. âBut I feel like the big sister!â
You laughed softly. âI know, sweetie. But it doesnât work that way.â
Before she could fire back with more questions, something outside caught her attention. âLook, Mama! Another moving truck!â
You saw the large truck parked halfway across the road, its bulk blocking your path. Irritated but resigned, you parked Natashaâs SUV and climbed out, hoping to get them to move just enough so you could pass.
"Excuse me, I have a mâ" you started to say but stopped. Your breath caught in your throat, a jolt of electricity shooting down your spine.
The movers were busy unloading furniture and boxes into the back of the truck, oblivious to your sudden stillness. You watched them work, your heartbeat growing louder, filling your ears. As you approached, a woman stepped out beside the truck, brushing her hands off her jeans. She had blonde hair that shimmered in the sunlight and sharp green eyes that locked onto yours. There was something vaguely familiar about her, though you couldnât quite place it.
âHey there! Sorry about the truck blocking the way. I was just helping unload,â she said with a friendly smile. âIâm Kelly. Just moving in next door.â
You introduced yourself, feeling a slight tug of recognition but pushing it aside. âNice to meet you, Kelly. Weâre actually moving in too. Guess weâre going to be neighbors. Where are you moving from?"
"Nebraska," Kelly nodded. "I'm a doctor. I wanted a bit of change. For some reason, I felt drawn to New York, so now I'm here."
You gave her a tight smile, wondering why her voice sounded so familiar. "Well, welcome to the neighborhood. I hope you enjoy it here. We'd love to have you over for dinner once we get settled. "
Kelly's smile widened, her gaze turning almost hopeful. "I'd like that."
fin
#natasha romanoff#black reader#natasha x reader#black widow x reader#black widow x female reader#natasha x you#natasha romanov#afamilyofherownau
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can u write ways that &team members being (kinda overly) protective of their s/o? thanks!!
â§Ë &team members being overprotective of you ŕź*¡Ë
Pairing âł &Team members x gn!reader Genre âł Fluff ââ
á˘..á˘â A/N ËË°â˘*â⡠Brain block wasn't wearing off for so long (âĽáşâĽďź)and this came out way longer than I thought cuz I got carried away; as usual ( ââż â ). Anyways hope you'll enjoy it!
â§â˘âââââââ˘Â°â˘â§â˘Â°â˘âââââââ˘â§
K : Itâs been almost forever, catching up to the latest updates with your old highschool classmate. The hot coffee in your hand already loosing its initial heat, you were completely distracted in the chaotic chatter, and had forgotten that you two werenât the only ones there. A set of dull piercing eyes were set tightly on your distracted figure and it wasnât long before you felt an aggressive grasp on your snatched waist, turning to the side to check the situation in a surprised state. âAh? Seems like you guys have a lot to discuss on⌠hopefully I werenât much of an interruption.. right honey..~?â a soft tone spoken, anger and possessiveness dripping straight through each letter. Just that alone was enough to send out a warning to you; heâs jealous. The morning coffee cup in his hand is now being squeezed tight to the point the liquid was starting to seep out the lid. âoh babe um.. youâre done getting the coffee? Sorry Iâm afraid I must take my leave now, Nichoâ you quickly answered him while excusing yourself from your conversation mate trying to make best of the situation. Nicholas, your chatmate caught up to the situation fast, giving you a nod as a goodbye as he watched you both walked away with a slight stinging stare in his narrowed eyes, almost summoning invisible daggers at Kâs direction.
Thankfully, you succeeded in separating you and K from Nicho but your sigh of relief was shortly interrupted by a loud thud as you were pinned to the wall of the alleyway, a tall strong figure towering above you.
âSo.. finally done running that mouth honey~?â
Fuma : The radient purple and blue dwelled on the sky canvas as nighttime falls. You were pretty bored but was also filled with a spring of energy hence why you dragged your boyfriend, Fuma all the way to the night bar with you. The original plan was to simply hang out on your seats alone with glasses of red wine in each hand and sharing kisses but it was all rudely interrupted when a sudden âhelloâ popped out from behind you. âAh! Euijoo..? Long time no see!â You instantly got up from your seat giving him a warm hug which he quickly reciprocated, earning a slight glare from the man beside you two. âDidnât knew you would show up in a place like thisâ, you teased the young boy in front of you. Euijoo always had a pure innocent look to him. He seemed like the type of guy who have never even held a girlâs hand let alone date one and he sure is definitely not the guy to show up at a bar. âHaha I just saw you through the glass pane so I wanted to come in and join youâ Somehow this statement seemed to have only pissed your already fuming boyfriend off. He came here specifically just to see you? Hell no not on my watch. You felt a hand snaked right around your waist as you felt a figure shift closer to you. âDear~, itâs pretty late already.. maybe we should head back what do you say?â You didnât think much of it since Fuma wasnât a type to be jealous anyways but you only took his words as him being caring. âSorry Euijoo, maybe we can arrange a day where we can talk properly?â âSure! Iâll see ya soon!â You waved goodbye to the sweet boy as Fuma dragged you out of the bar in a very unusual almost aggressive manner.
The car was steadily parked in front of the apartment block as feet and shoes clashed in the door way. Your breath was directed right at Fumaâs exposed neck as he unraveled his tie. His muscular arms trapping you in between while your back stuck to the wall.
âYouâre testing my patience way too much love~â
Nicholas : You were seated cozily between the two taller boys, under a warm sky blue blanket as a horror movie played on the screen in front. The couch kept constantly swinging from the motions of your best friend K jumping and twitching at every jumpscare. âSeriously K, that was a really expected one you knowâ âOh câmonnn! The face was still pretty scary though!â he defended back as he clinged onto you. âOi youâre heavy câmon get offâ K was about to make another whiny remark when he felt the pressure of a strong hand gripping onto his. âYouâre gonna end up giving her a muscle strainâ a low voice followed by a chuckle arose from behind you. Still the teasing chuckle did not help on hiding the irritation in your boyfriendâs voice. The grip around Kâs hand kept tightening until he finally caught up to his irritation as he let go of your shoulder, the grip weakening.
You three practically just coughed awkwardly and played it off as the movie kept advancing. Itâs just been a few minutes until you felt a hand of someone on your thigh. The cold rings on the fingers sent tingles down your skin but before you could try to rule out the person, you felt a low breathy voice in your right ear.
âDonât you think youâre getting too close to your dear best friend, babygirl?â
Euijoo : âYah! Thatâs cheating you canât cross that area!â you screamed your hands set on the game controller moving your fingers on the keys in a swift pace. âOops, sorry~ well you gotta learn how to work around the rules, you should learn from meâ a prideful voice arose from the towering figure sat beside you. âExcuse me?!â It wasn't long until you started tickling him as he reciprocated the action. Fuma is one of your boyfriendâs close friend that he introduced to you since you two started dating. And well youâre a pretty outgoing person so it didnât take long for you to get comfortable with Fuma in a brotherly way of course. You guys always bricker and share a lot of physical contact which you believed your boyfriend, Euijoo would not mind at all. Heâs always been sweet and understanding and definitely is the furthest thing from being jealous or possessive. Well thatâs what you thought until you felt a hand stop the bickering between you and Fuma, as the hand grabbed you gently but swiftly away from him. âAlright guys enough play fightingâ the sweet voice of your boyfriend was heard loud and clear behind your ear and throughout the room.
You and Fuma just went silent with a pout on each of your faces. The boy sticked his tongue out your way as he turned his head back towards the screen to return back to gaming and you still a bit pissed off at the taunt, planned to do the same until you felt Euijooâs whisper in your ear.
âBaby.. you shouldnât keep testing my patience like this..~â
Yuma : Even though your cat-like boyfriend could be quite chaotic most of the time but he sure does put all his effort into planning dates for you two. Except this time things didnât went as expected. Your best friend had somewhere to be at immediately. This led to her basically yeeting her younger brother Jo right at your doorstep telling you to keep him accompanied for the time being. Itâs not that Jo was a 1 year old child or anything, heâs pretty much almost 20 and a full grown adult. But he had a pretty overprotective sister who would either keep him with her or leave him to someone she entrusts so the age card didnât really helped. And now here he was tagging along on you and your boyfriendâs well-planned date. Not that you mind it, you pretty much just noted it as a three-people hangout. He was pretty quiet and just listened to whatever you and Yuma had to say. Heâs pretty much like a cute clueless little kid following you two but that same thought didnât seep through Yumaâs head. Not that Yuma was making a big scene out of it all neither was he fuming from the head or something. But he sure was being a pouty clingy kitty.
And it wasnât long until you felt his body heat on your back pressed up against you. You could see Jo being distracted by some kind of treat and you were glad he was. You felt a hand on your waist and fluffy hair sneaked cozily on the side of your neck.
âHmph.. love~ youâll need to pay me back with cuddles when we get back home~â
Jo : The gleaming sun was already up and high in the sky. You turned to your side to check the alarm as it read 10:02am. As usual you made your way downstairs, sprinting straight to your tall boyfriend standing in the hallway with a bowl of Japanese white rice in his hands, hugging him in a whiff as he stumbled back from your sudden force. âBaby! Iâm hungryyy~â you opened your mouth expecting him to be sweet enough to feed you some of his rice. Instead you opened your eyes to witness him putting the spoon in his own mouth as a cheeky smug formed across his face. Your boyfriend is the most caring one in the world but food is an exception. Heâs too much of a foodie to even share which didnât really ticked you off but still always earned a pout from you. âHehe no worries~ your savior is here!â you heard a cute energetic tone sprang behind you as well as the wrinkling of the plastic bags containing milk buns. âYay! Youâre the best!â you whined, hugging your friend Harua instantly earning a surprised yelp from him.
Thatâs when you felt a sudden pull from behind as your back was glued to Joâs chest in just a few seconds before you tasted the white rice in your mouth. Jo was tilting the spoon into your mouth with fixed cold eyes on Harua. The eyes that seem unphased but also a bit irritated in the same sense.
âNo need. She prefers rice for breakfast.â
Harua : Today was supposed to be the perfect food date for you and Harua; but things did not turned out as planned when you two decided to check out a dango stall around the corner.
Harua, your sweet boyfriend, is really keen on sweets and snacks so are you. Finally, you two came up with a plan that the very next date should be at a food market where dim lit snack stalls stand in a long line of queue awaiting for visitors. And as planned, the very next Sunday you both were at the location running left and right, an assortment of dishes sprawled out on each stall. Seeing the tri-colored dango stand on the other side of the line, the two canât help but sprint right to there. âHello! Can I have this, and this and that.. and-â the orders were shortly paused when you caught a glimpse of the boy in front packing up the dango orders. âTaki!?â âOh hey! Finally noticed me missy? Didnât knew you would forget me that easily oh myâ as dramatic as ever. âHaha jk! Anyways yea Iâm just working parttime in the stall here for now, maybe you wanna grab a drink or two after work hours?â You smiled, a âyesâ about to leave your lips before you felt your boyfriendâs gentle hand on yours.
âSorry, her evening is occupied.â
Taki : Woo hoo! Amusement park with Taki! Nothing could compare to how fun that would be. Until you were proven wrong.
You two ended up running into your boyfriendâs older brother, K. You were now convinced this date which has just turned into a hangout is gonna be even more fun! I mean who wouldnât have fun with such a funny chaotic playful K in the equation. But that same formula doesnât apply to your boyfriend because an obvious shade formed on his face as soon as K popped up. Before you realized your feelings for your best friend Taki, you had a deep crush on none other than his brother K. Not that you had confessed or anything, but you simply moved on later onwards and you obviously did not take account or take notice that little Taki would be a bit possessive and careful about that past statement. But Taki knew about it all and he is infact not as friendly about it as you thought. And now things turn for worse when youâre smiling and giggling, having way too much fun with K at YOUR DATE WITH TAKI. Heâs definitely fuming. âTaki? Baby youâre awfully quiet. Something wrong?â you finally took notice of his absurd change in behavior. Him not wanting to ruin the day and the vibes; âYea yea, just maybe the heat is getting to meâ Obviously, Takiâs lie did not get past you but before you could even reply to his excuse, you felt yourself get dragged in a whip right into one of the capsules of the ferris wheel.
âFinally noticed me now huh?â
Maki : You never took Maki as the type to be a jealous person especially because he is always such a gentleman. The only image of him that filled your head was gentle, sweet, understanding and definitely the furthest thing away from the words possessive or jealous.
But it seems you didnât know him well enough or heâs just too good at hiding it; he couldnât hide it no more though, specifically when his older cousin, Nicholas paid a visit to you two. Just a simple helper who came to help out you two in your cooking session right? Except that the helper himself is a flirt; which was not helping the situation out at all. Nicholas unlike his cousin Maki got absolutely NO CHILL, and Iâm talking he will rizz you up and flirt with you any chance he got, throwing smirks at Makiâs direction whenever he catches your boyfriendâs death glares. You were cutting up some Chinese cabbage when you felt a hand snaked around your waist. Assuming it was your boyfriend you turned around to find someone else. âWoah Nicho? ..what are you doing?â âHm? Why? Canât I just watch from here~?â a smug look on his face. Before you could recover from your shocked state, you were pulled right into a warm chest, far left from Nicho which pushed you to look up.
âNo. No you cannot watch.â
#&team#andteam#&team imagines#&team scenarios#&team fanfic#&team x reader#&team soft hours#&team fluff#&team k#&team fuma#&team nicholas#&team euijoo#&team ej#&team yuma#&team jo#&team harua#&team taki#&team maki#koga yudai#murata fuma#wang yixiang#byun euijoo#nakakita yuma#asakura jo#shigeta harua
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