#my lovely lovely kim sunwoo | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsbeeble · 1 year ago

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THIS IS SO CUTE STFU

win over your heart (goal!)

sunwoo x reader (this is for the anon who requested jealous sunwoo and bff eric! thank youuuu~)

genre: friends to lovers, childhood enemies to lovers lol, school au (high school, college, not rlly specified), soccer player sunwoo and eric!, eric is your best friend and the real mvp here actually, fluff, jealousy, confession, getting together, first kiss, reader likes photography, flirting but also shyness notes: yumi is in a weird era where she suddenly writes these long ass fics for literal no reason 😭 my true writing potential (not rlly, i could write 20k if i rlly wanted to) word count: 7k

There were many rules when it came to soccer. You never quite understood all of them. The only thing that you were absolutely sure of, was that the goal is always the main objective. So really, every time you watched soccer games, your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the area next to the two white nets, wondering which team will score next.

“Y/n! Hey.” Eric popped up from the bleachers, dressed in his usual soccer uniform. He leaned his forearms against the cool metal, looking up at you with a quirky smile. “You didn’t forget what you have to do, did you?”

You immediately shook out of your little daydream, looking down to face him. “Oh, yeah. I definitely remembered.”

Eric raised an eyebrow.

You huffed. “I remembered… just now.”

“Focus.” He rolled his eyes. Then, he gave you a cheesy thumbs-up and a wink. “Make sure I look top-tier and better than everyone else.”

“I’ll make sure I do the opposite,” You deadpanned. As he walked away, you picked up the heavy camera that hung around your neck. Photography has always been your sort of… escape. Being able to look through the lens in a completely new perspective and even capturing precious moments easily caused you to get lost in your own world.

Usually, you took pictures of scenery or pretty flowers. But sometimes, there would be a certain someone who wanted you to take high-quality pictures of him so that he could use them to impress someone that he was crushing on.

You sighed, bringing the camera up to your face, to zoom in. You moved your view around until you found the familiar back of Eric’s head.

“Found you, dummy,” You whispered to yourself, turning the lens so that you could focus on his face. You followed him around, taking pictures whenever he would subconsciously pose in the sunlight or when a bright smile would appear on his face whenever he successfully passed the ball.

After the first game of practice was finished, you tracked your best friend as he walked towards someone. You squinted your eyes, watching as he began to talk to him, punching his shoulder and everything. Eventually, your curiosity got the better of you and so with a held breath, you shifted your focus onto the man next to him.

“It’s you,” You wondered to yourself, pulling back briefly. “Sunwoo.”

Sunwoo was your enemy. Well, not anymore. Elementary school enemies. It was funny, really. You two had always bickered when you were little children, sticking tongues out and messing up each other’s coloring papers.

“I’m gonna tell on you!” You would always threaten whenever he stole your little zebra eraser.

“Nuh-uh!”

There never was a day where you didn’t fight with him. Up until elementary school ended and he had moved away.

You brought the camera back up, trying to find Eric again but he was long gone. You sighed, as you went back to search for him, but again, your camera landed back on Sunwoo. Swallowing nervously, you watched as he began to play in his own style. Even the way he ran was alluring. He was a lot more serious than Eric, but his eyes were always adorably bright and his hair always bounced like a puppy’s.

You forgot to mention that when Sunwoo had come back to school all grown up, he had really grown up. Taller, broader, his jawline suddenly appearing? It was hard to admit but he became… attractive rather than the cute, scrawny boy from before.

You were enamored, the thought of taking pictures of Eric completely abandoning your mind. You knew that Sunwoo was a very skilled soccer player, which was why he was always moving. Stretching his legs, rolling his neck, blah, blah.

“If you would just stay still…” You mumbled, only managing to take horribly blurry pictures. And suddenly, he paused. “Aha,” You breathed out with excitement. “Stay there.”

But just as you were about to click the button, he was looking up at you, with a confused pout. And then it turned into a growing smirk.

You inhaled sharply, pulling the camera away from your face, your cheeks burning.

“Oh my god,” You panicked and shut your eyes in hopes that this was all a dream. When you peeked one eye open, he was still staring up at you. You simply wanted to crawl into a hole.

And you could have just stood up and left. But poor, poor you. Oblivious you. You decided to wave. Wave at him.

Sunwoo widened his eyes slightly. And then he waved back, giving you a small smile. Even from so far away, you could see the twinkle in his eye.

—

Practice had finally ended which meant that you could finally escape the heat of sitting on the bleachers. You bounded down the stairs to meet up with Eric.

“Tell me! He eagerly jogged up to you with an excited smile. “Did you get any good pictures? Ones that will make people fall in love with me?”

You winced. “I think I did?”

“Great! Let me see–” He reached forward to grab your camera. Normally, you would let him, but this was different. You couldn’t risk him seeing all the pictures that you had taken of Sunwoo.

“No!” You blurted out. “I have to edit them. Some of them aren’t–”

“Eric?” Sunwoo walked up to the two of you, a knowing smile on his lips. Even while sweaty, he still glowed under the setting sun. It was quite unfair actually.

You gulped. “What?”

He raised an eyebrow, motioning to your camera. “Are they all pictures of Eric?”

You bit your lip, glancing down at the floor. “Of course. Why wouldn’t they be?”

Sunwoo only smiled wider. “Could’ve sworn you were focusing on someone else.”

“You’re imagining things, Sunwoo.” You glared.

Eric gasped. “You were taking pictures of someone else? Who?”

You shook your head, whining and holding the camera desperately out of reach. “I did not! Leave me alone.”

Eric laughed louder. “Never. Not as long as you’re with me.” He surged forward, pulling you into a tight hug as he pressed a loud kiss to the top of your head.

“Eric,” You giggled shoving him away. Except, he only prevailed, holding you closer. Physical touch has always been your guys’ thing. Neither of you complained. That was just what best friends do.

“You will accept my kisses.” He glowered.

“Fine, fin—“ Your eyes met Sunwoo’s. He was staring at the two of you with an incomprehensible expression. Your eyes traveled down and you could see how oddly stiff his shoulders were.

You cleared your throat nervously and pushed Eric off, making him grumble sulkily.

“Can you go ahead without me?” You turned to your best friend. “I have to ask Sunwoo something.”

“Sunwoo? Why would you— ow.” He winced when you pinched him on the shoulder. With a pout, he walked away.

Eric was aware that you knew Sunwoo from way before. You both were best friends after all, meeting just a few years ago. No secrets were to be kept. Well… except for the fact that you think Sunwoo is cute. But that’s different.

You turned to Sunwoo with an embarrassed frown. “If you could just forget that all happened, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“That you were secretly taking pictures of me?” Sunwoo tilted his head innocently.

Immediately, a blush rose to your cheeks. “I was not.”

“Show me then.” He glanced at the camera around your neck. You hesitated but with a sigh you turned it on. Sunwoo approached you and you could even hear his breathing. You let out a shaky exhale, willing your heartbeat to calm down.

You clicked through the pictures, praying that they would all be of Eric. But to no avail, the very next picture was of Sunwoo, kicking the ball.

He hummed, looking at you with a mischievous smile.

“That looks like me.”

You stuttered, at a loss for words. He only continued to stare back, his eyes gleaming.

“Fine!” You blurted out. “It is you. But please.” You squeezed your eyes shut, hanging your head low. “This is embarrassing,” You mumbled quietly.

“Why?” You could practically hear his smirk. Then, a finger was under your chin, pulling you up to face him. You gasped quietly, trying to look anywhere but at him. He only leaned closer. “I think it’s cute,” He whispered. “After all these years, I have a secret admirer. And it’s you.”

“I am not!” You sputtered, blushing profusely. “Last time I remember, you stole my favorite crayon.”

“You’re still on that?” He pouted.

“Yes, in fact. I very much am,” You stubbornly huffed.

He pulled away finally but he was still smiling. “You do know I was doing all that to get your attention right?”

You froze. “What?”

“We were never enemies. At least I thought we weren’t,” He mumbled as he quickly turned away. If you stepped forward any further you could see that his ears turned red.

“Sunwoo?”

He only walked faster.

—

“What are the chances that we all get paired up together?” Eric happily plopped down on the desk in front of where you and Sunwoo were sitting together.

“Great,” Sunwoo huffed. “It was supposed to be me and Y/n. You just happened to show up late.”

“Aw,” Eric cooed playfully. “Don’t be so jealous.”

“I’m not,” He mumbled. Surprised, you turned to him, only to see his flushed cheeks as he avoided your gaze.

You giggled to yourself as you picked up the paper you were assigned.

“Exploring each other’s hobbies. A way to expand a person’s interests and grow a connection to the other.” You read with a bored voice. “Each person will teach the other their hobby and— This feels like the school talent show all over again.”

Sunwoo laughed. “Remember when I tripped you during your cute little dance routine?”

“Yes,” You groaned. “I was literally about to cry by the way.”

Eric watched your interaction with a growing smile. It was his time to play cupid.

“Did I hear that right?” He spoke up with a grin.

“Hm?”

“Cute. Cute?” He turned to Sunwoo. “Are you flirting with my best friend right now?”

Sunwoo immediately sputtered. “No. I was not. I actually thought it was stupid and dumb.”

You gazed at him with a small smile. “You thought my silly dance was cute?”

He grumbled, flopping down to hide his face in his arms. “I— I didn’t. Not at all.”

Suddenly, the teacher came around and she poked Sunwoo in the shoulder.

“No sleeping in class, young man. And you two should start working.”

You sighed, turning back to the paper.

“As I was saying before someone brought back bad memories.” You glared at Sunwoo who’s cheeks were still tinted red. “We’re supposed to try each other’s hobbies and write a few sentences on what we think about it.”

“Easy,” Eric replied. “What hobbies are we doing?”

“Photography.” You smiled giddily.

“Soccer,” Sunwoo said.

“But I already know how to play,” Eric whined. “Oh, but Y/n doesn’t.” He gasped. “You’re going to be a great soccer player,” He joked as he took your hand in his. He intertwined your fingers with his with an excited smile.

You laughed, turning to Sunwoo only to see that he was staring directly at your connected hands, a small frown on his face.

“Enough of this,” He muttered grumpily, reaching forward to grab both yours and Eric’s wrists, pulling them apart. His warm hand lingered on yours for a second, making you inhale sharply.

“What about you?” You choked out, turning away to hide your blush. “Eric.”

“Me?” He said. He gave a sly smile. “It’s a surprise.”

—

“You walk awfully fast.”

You heard a voice call out from behind you. Classes had ended which meant the usual routine of you heading home.

Turning around, you were met with the sight of Sunwoo running towards you, bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was slightly wavy, reminding you of a poodle.

“Sunwoo,” You breathed out. “What are you doing here?”

He gave you a quirked-up smile.

“Am I not allowed to walk you home?”

You laughed. “It’s a short walk, I’m okay.”

He shook his head, beginning to walk side-by-side with you. It was a comfortable silence with him occasionally taking soft glances at you.

“So,” He spoke up. “You and Eric.” You looked at him, noticing a nervous expression flit across his face.

“What about him?”

He frowned. “How long have you known him for?”

“Mmm…” You thought for a second. “About three years.”

A relieved look replaced his anxious one. “So you’ve known me longer.”

“Well…” You eyed him skeptically. “We were young kids and you did disappear for a good while. And came back really tall all of a sudden.” You nudged his shoulder with a smile. “Didn’t think you would be one of the taller ones.”

“Hey." He scowled. “What do you take me for? Of course I would be tall.” He puffed his chest out, making you laugh dearly.

But then, his expression softened as he looked at you with a sort of longing in his eyes.

“But, I’m sorry,” He whispered. “For disappearing like that. I didn’t want to move away but—“

“It’s okay,” You reassured him. “I mean, for what it’s worth…” You trailed off when you realized just how intently he was gazing at you. But still, you kept up the eye contact no matter how warm your cheeks felt. “I did miss you. When you were gone.”

Sunwoo’s eyebrows rose as he stared at you almost like he was in disbelief. But then, it contorted into a teasing look.

“You missed me?” His laugh was deep. “Tell me, are you in love with me or something?”

Heat rose to your cheeks rapidly. “I was trying to be genuine and nice!” You huffed. “Fine, I'll take it back. I didn’t miss you at all.”

“Don’t be like that,” He teased further.

You grumbled, stubbornly turning away.

“Look at me.” He tapped your shoulder. When you did, you noticed that his coy smile was gone, now replaced with a shy, timid one. “And for what it’s worth,” He mumbled, copying your previous words. “I missed you too.”

“See!” You exclaimed, trying to hide the smile that threatened to widen on your lips. “Was that so hard to say?”

“Definitely. Took all of my courage actually,” He joked, giving you a charming tilt of his lips.

You snorted. Something glinted in the corner of your eye and your smile fell briefly.

“Is that…” You pointed at the keychain that hung on his bag. It was a small plastic cat, dirty and chipped, almost like he had gotten it years ago.

He widened his eyes, his hand shooting out to cover it from your sight.

“It’s nothing.”

Your mouth dropped.

“Take it.” You had shoved a cat keychain in his hand. “Since you’re moving away and all… you should have this.”

Young Sunwoo had frowned at you. “I don’t want it. It’s ugly.”

But he still took it from you anyway.

You had assumed he was going to throw it out or give it away but here it was, hanging on his bag.

“Oh my god, Sunwoo,” You whispered in utter shock. “You kept it for so long?”

He shut his eyes, wincing from mortification. “It— it was too hideous to throw out.”

“Sure.” You smirked. “Then tell me, Sunwoo. Are you in love with me or something?”

And for some odd reason, he never answered the question.

–

“Photography is all about capturing the moment in it’s best,” You explained. “As long as you do so, then it doesn’t matter if your camera is absolute shit.” You snickered, glancing at Eric with his camera that was basically holding on for dear life. It was battered and dusty as he had claimed that he found it in his attic.

Eric pouted. “I tried to find a better one,” He cried.

Sunwoo laughed to himself. He didn’t have a camera, so he was borrowing yours. Something about the way he gently handled it put a funny feeling in your heart that you couldn’t quite comprehend.

The three of you had agreed to meet at a park, where it was likely to find subjects to take pictures of. Pretty flowers and the like.

“Using a camera is self-explanatory, but it’s the focusing that people need to work on,” You said. “But, I like to think that it comes naturally, as long as they choose something beautiful in their eyes to take a picture of.”

The two of them stared at you blankly, like obedient puppies who wanted a treat. You groaned, frustrated.

“So go,” You urged them. “Capture what’s beautiful to you.”

“Oh right!” Eric shot up, running over to a bed of flowers. You followed him and you helped him focus on a specific pink one.

“You’re supposed to– twist it so that it–”

“I got it!” Eric looked at you determined. “You may be my best friend but you’re a pretty bad teacher.”

You whined, pulling away. “That’s harsh coming from someone who has a camera that’s literally unable to focus at all.”

“Oh.” His mouth dropped open. “Is that why it doesn’t work?”

You snorted. “No. Your camera isn’t even turned on.”

“Shut up.” He scowled.

You laughed, turning around. That was when you saw Sunwoo, standing from a distance. He had the camera brought up to his face. Underneath, you could see a small smile on his lips.

But the thing is, he was pointing the camera straight at you.

Your past words rang through your ears. You felt your breath be completely taken away at the realization. Sunwoo seemed to be unfazed as he only zoomed closer on you.

Clearing your throat, you walked up to him.

“Me?” Your hand came up to the camera, pushing it down so that his kind eyes met yours.

He nodded, stepping closer so that he was only inches away from your face. You could feel your heart beat all throughout your limbs as your breath was caught in your throat. His hand came up to the side of your face and you felt something being tucked behind your ear.

You furrowed your eyebrows and touched it. It was a small, white flower.

“Sunwoo?” You breathed out, your voice shaky.

“You said to capture what’s beautiful to me,” He answered. You couldn’t even bring yourself to reply as he stepped backward, brought the camera up to his eye, and took a picture of you. You were sure you looked like a deer in headlights. A deer with a flower tucked behind its ear.

“You…” Your mouth went dry as you looked down at your shoes like they were the most interesting thing. “I don’t know what to say.”

Sunwoo smiled. He took the camera off his neck and handed it to you.

“Just know that I think you’re the most beautiful,” He whispered. He walked away as soon as he noticed Eric coming towards you.

Your mouth gaped open yet no sound came out. You turned the camera on and looked through the pictures. There were no photos of flowers or butterflies. They were all of you either talking to Eric or walking toward Sunwoo. And the last photo was what made your legs go weak. The one with the flower behind your ear.

“Woah, you look so nice in that picture!” Eric stated, peering from behind you.

You had forgotten to mention that what the photographer captures, is what they truly see in their eyes.

(Photography seems fun. Though it isn’t something I would pursue, I did learn to take pictures of lovely things. Or people. There’s one person in particular. - Sunwoo)

“Soccer isn’t just about kicking the ball.” Eric walked across the field, his chin held up high like their coach always did. “It’s about– uh…”

You tilted your head in confusion.

“Nevermind, it really is just about kicking the ball,” He muttered, his cheeks flushing. Sunwoo snorted, taking the ball from him.

“We’re just going to kick the ball at the goal over there.” He pointed out.

You nodded. “See? Eric, Sunwoo’s a much better teacher already.” Without thinking, you grabbed Sunwoo’s arm, pulling him closer. You didn’t notice him begin to blush profusely.

“No, no.” Eric shook his head. “I’ll teach you how to kick the ball properly.”

You sighed. “Fine. Prove yourself.”

“I will!” Eric stuck his tongue out at you. You let go of Sunwoo so that Eric could walk behind you. He rested his hands on your shoulders, tilting your body slightly. “When you kick the ball, you don’t use the tip of your shoe. You use the–”

The both of you were interrupted by Sunwoo clearing his throat. He was practically glaring daggers at Eric, his eyebrow raised.

“Let me teach.”

Your breath hitched and you turned to Eric. He seemed to be completely unbothered though. Instead, there was a knowing smile on his lips as he looked at Sunwoo, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Okay,” He jested. “Go ahead.”

He easily backed off, bewildering you. You stared after him about to say something but he cut you off again.

“Your boyfriend is a really jealous person,” He remarked, cackling as he walked off to kick the ball around for himself.

You squeaked. “He’s not–”

You inhaled sharply when you noticed that Sunwoo was already standing behind you.

“Pay attention,” He whispered, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh,” You breathed out shakily. “Okay.”

You could hear him huff out a subtle laugh as he brought the soccer ball closer to your foot. Did the weather change? You wondered why it was starting to feel so warm.

It got much, much hotter when you registered the feeling of a large hand resting on your waist. He gently shifted you so that you were at an angle. You took in a deep breath.

“At an angle,” He explained. “Use the inner side of your foot to kick the ball.”

You looked up at him. He was gazing back at you, his eyes soft on yours. With a shaky exhale, you turned back to face the goal. And then you kicked the ball. You watched as it traveled barely a short distance before stopping right behind the goal line.

“I hate this,” You cried.

Sunwoo laughed, his deep voice alluring. “You did alright.”

“Better than that one time you fell flat on your face in kindergarten,” You snapped.

He pouted. “You remember that?”

You snickered. “Of course I do. That was the first time we met.”

“Yes, and you–”

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

Eric appeared out of nowhere, balancing the soccer ball on top of his shoe. “You what?” He watched the both of you intently.

You blushed, and shoved Sunwoo away after realizing just how close he was to you. “Nothing! I did nothing.”

“Are you okay?” You called out after realizing a boy had fallen on his face.

“I’m fine,” He had sniffled.

“Here, let me help you.” You beamed. You sat beside him for the next few minutes, putting bandages on his scratched knees.

“Thank you,” He whispered.

Yeah, definitely childhood enemies.

Sunwoo smirked as he looked at you. “You’re still the same to this day, you know,” He replied.

“How so?”

“You like to take care of me.”

“I don’t,” You grumbled.

“Oh, so what was that water bottle doing right next to my locker when I said that I was thirsty?” He grinned.

You slapped a hand over his mouth urgently. “How did you know it was me?”

“On the piece of paper next to it. You still have similar handwriting from what I remember.” He winked.

(Sunwoo is a great teacher. But also a little excessive. Waist grabbing to teach how to kick? Someone’s awfully whipped. - Eric)

–

“Tell me I look good,” Eric pleaded. He began to practically hyperventilate, severely worrying you.

You set your hands on each of his shoulders.

“You look great. Very handsome.”

Eric whined. “Do you really mean it?”

“Mhm,” You nodded with a smile. “Now go. This is your first date, you can’t mess it up.”

He nodded, determined.

“Okay. I’ll text you after, okay?”

You smiled and waved goodbye. As he was walking out of the school grounds, he turned back around.

“I look good right?” He hollered again, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“You look hot!” You yelled back, waving and jumping up and down, causing Eric to double in laughter.

Once he was out of sight, you turned around, only to see Sunwoo sitting at a bench reading a book. You raised your eyebrows and went to take a seat next to him.

“You hate reading,” You finally said after a few moments of silence.

“Oh do I?” He looked up at you.

“Yes. Unless you’re a changed man?”

“Definitely,” He dully remarked, turning back to his book. You studied him oddly. Something about his tone threw you off. It lacked emotion, almost like he was upset.

“…Sunwoo?” You leaned closer so that he would look at you.

“What?” He glanced at you briefly before gulping and turning back to his book. You could tell he wasn't reading a single word.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” He replied. Yet there wasn't even a hint of a smile on his face.

“Are you sure? You can tell me.”

He shut the book harshly before turning to you.

“I mean, if you’re going to call him handsome and…” He paused. “Hot. You might as well date him.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What? Eric?”

“Yes, Eric,” He huffed grumpily.

You stared in utter disbelief. This was… different. He was looking back at you intently while being adorably frustrated. There was a crease between his eyebrows and a cute pout on his lips. Slowly, your frown began to grow into an endearing smile.

“Sunwoo,” You giggled. You took the book away, placing it down. Your hand wrapped around his, pulling it into his lap.

“What’re you doing?” He asked gruffly. You could hear the shakiness in his voice.

“Sunwoo,” You whispered. “Are you… jealous?”

“What? I’m not—“ He wrenched his hand away, his cheeks red. “I’m just annoyed that you call him handsome and all,” He grumbled, rolling his eyes. “You don’t do that for me.”

Your smile only widened as you looked at him knowingly. His shoulders squared and he cleared his throat awkwardly. Now his ears have turned red.

“I’m not jealous,” He insisted, frowning endearingly.

“If you’re so sure about it then I guess I won’t call you handsome then…” You sighed, biting back a smile as you stood up from the bench. Suddenly, a hand caught onto your wrist.

“Wait. Are you really?” He looked up at you with round eyes.

You shrugged. “It’s a pity since you’re so certain that you’re not jealous.”

“No!” He blurted out. When he realized his volume he blushed even more. “No. I— I guess I was a bit jealous…”

“And?” You laughed, sitting back down.

“And… can you call me handsome now?” He hung his head low.

You laughed even louder. “Yes.” You cupped his face in your hands. “You are so handsome.”

You could see him visibly struggle to conceal his smile.

“So handsome. So handsome I will faint,” You exaggerated.

“Ah…” He mumbled, grabbing hold of your hands and trying to escape your hold. “That one time was enough.”

You ignored him. “But you’re so handsome!”

“Okay,” He whined, blushing intensely. “I— I get it.”

–

“You never told us what your hobby is.” You frowned, sitting next to your best friend after practice had ended.

“Oh, right,” Eric replied. And then a smile grew on his face, slightly scaring you. “I’ll tell you first and then I’ll tell Sunwoo once he’s done.”

“Okay, what is it? You’re being awfully suspicious.”

He motioned you so that you would lean closer. He cupped his hands around your ear and whispered, “Dressing up.”

“Huh?” You pulled away in bewilderment, staring at him like he was the craziest man in the world. “Dressing up? Since when did you like to–”

“Shh,” He panicked, slapping a hand over your mouth. “Call it a guilty pleasure of mine.” He grinned.

You cringed. “Okay. So, what do you want us to do then?”

“Dress up?” He replied like it was the easiest thing ever. “Wear your fancy clothes or whatever. And then meet there.” He pointed at one of the goalposts. “Seven in the evening. Don’t be late.”

You groaned. “I don’t want to dress up though.”

“Trust me,” He pleaded. “It’ll be worth it.”

You sighed. “Fine, but only because we’re best friends.”

“Great!” He excitedly stood up. “See you there!”

“Mhm, all dressed up.” You rolled your eyes.

–

Just like he had requested, you stood under one of the soccer goalposts. The sky was orange, and the sun setting beautifully. And yes, you had attempted to dress up. You did your hair and everything, even wearing your nicer clothes. But, you didn’t enjoy standing there. All alone.

Maybe you were early, but there was no one else standing beside you. Sometimes you despised Eric for being so mysterious. You bit your lip nervously, pulling out your phone. You dialed Eric’s number and he picked up a few moments later.

“Eric? Where are you?”

“Oh, Y/n.” He laughed nervously. “About that… I uh– caught a cold.” He forced a cough out that was oddly suspicious. “So I can’t show up.”

“What?” You panicked. “So I did all this for nothing?”

“Don’t forget Sunwoo,” He sang. Before you could even reply, he had already hung up, leaving you stranded. You groaned, frustrated as you put your phone away.

You were just about to grab your things and go back home but that was when you caught a figure in the background. A very familiar figure.

“Sunwoo?” You tilted your head.

He came into view. He definitely didn’t get the memo of dressing up but he somehow still looked good. He had a hand behind his back, hiding something.

“Did you–”

“Oh wow,” He breathed out, stepping forward as he looked you over. He gave you a soft smile. “You look really… nice.”

Already, you could feel your legs transform into jelly.

“Thank you,” You whispered. “But did you also dress up?”

Sunwoo looked at you with confusion. “Dress… up?” He pulled his hand away, only to reveal a bouquet of flowers. It was beautiful, filled with colorful tulips and carnations. You gulped at the sight, gazing at him with shock.

“Sunwoo…” You uttered. “What is this?”

He pouted with puzzlement. “Did you not get flowers?”

You frowned. “...No. Eric told me that the thing was to dress up.”

“Huh.” He was deep in thought. “He told me that it was to make bouquets.”

“What?” And then it dawned on you. “Don’t tell me–”

He laughed, clutching the flowers to his chest. “This is a set-up.”

You snorted. “What’s the point of this? It looks almost like a love confession.”

He grew silent at that.

“Don’t tell me he noticed...” You heard him mutter to himself quietly.

You stepped closer. “Notice what?”

“Nothing.” He turned away.

“No, tell me.”

He sighed. “Well, I did make this for you,” He grumbled as he placed the flowers in your hand. You smiled as you observed how well it was made. The ribbon was tied neatly and the flowers were arranged beautifully.

“Thank you, Sunwoo.” Your eyes sparkled.

He blushed, turning away.

“And what do you mean by you making this for me specifically?” You widened your eyes.

“I found out that flowers have meanings so–” He pointed at the pink and red flowers. “The carnations and tulips both mean… love and affection.”

“Oh,” You dumbly replied. You laughed trying to ignore the pounding of your heart. “Are you in love with me or something?”

You had expected him to roll his eyes or deny it. But instead, he stayed quiet and looked at you with utmost sincerity, as if to silently tell you that,

Yes, I am.

You blinked, the flowers falling to your side.

“Sunwoo?”

“You have to listen to me first,” He said quietly. “I didn’t expect this to happen today but I guess Eric had other plans.”

You looked up at him softly. “For what to happen?”

“For me to tell you that…” He searched your eyes helplessly. “That I like you.”

You felt your whole world shift, almost making you drop the bouquet. “Wh–what?”

“I like you. A lot. And I have since all those years that we bickered as young kids. The reason why I teased you or stole your things was because I wanted you to pay attention to me. And I still tease you to this day because I like your cute reaction,” He rambled. “And I–”

“Don’t be nervous,” You whispered.

He sighed. “But you make me nervous.”

Your breath hitched, your grip on the bouquet tightening.

“You make me so nervous that I become a fool,” He said. “I’m supposed to be calm and collected but when I’m with you, I… I get jealous and anxious. And I feel like I look stupid all the time.”

You shook your head. “That’s not—“

“And,” He groaned, blushing even more than before. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something small that sat in the palm of his hand. “I still have this stupid crayon. Because I’m always thinking of you.”

You gaped at it, then looked back up at him. He no longer had the constant smug or teasing look, instead, it was replaced with an unsureness that made your eyes soften.

“Sunwoo.”

“I know,” He mumbled, looking away briefly. “This is sudden and I understand if you don’t like me back. I just needed to tell you at some point. It’s been years.”

“Years?” You whispered. You stepped closer after gently putting the flowers down. You placed a hand on the side of his face and you were pleasantly surprised to see him nuzzle into your touch. Oh, he was going to be the death of you. “After all this time?”

He nodded nervously.

And then you laughed. You just couldn’t help it. He frowned cutely at you, humming in confusion.

“What’s so funny?” He asked.

“No I—“ Your eyes crinkled with a smile. “I just can’t believe it. I thought we were enemies this whole time.”

He whined, “God no, I really liked you. I still do.”

“For me, back then…”

His eyes brightened. “You liked me back too?”

You winced. “Okay, not really.” You eyed him sheepishly. “I did actually despise you in elementary school.”

Sunwoo laughed lightheartedly.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t like you right now.”

“Well I would hope that you don’t hate m— what?” He swallowed thickly, studying your features with a mixture of disbelief and undying hope. “You like me?”

You nodded, your smile widening. “Why’re you so surprised?”

“Because I’m a complete loser.” He furrowed his eyebrows.

“Who said I don’t like this complete loser?” You teased, caressing his cheek with your thumb. “And besides, you’re not really. You’re cute and sweet.”

He choked.

“I like this side of you,” You continued.

“Which one?” He asked shyly.

“The one where you always look out for me.” You searched his eyes tenderly. “The one who always blocks me from getting hit by a soccer ball and the one who always checks up on me when I’m tired. That side of you.”

“Of course,” He answered softly, turning to press a small kiss to the palm of your hand, causing you to stutter over a breath. “It’s only natural.”

You grinned.

“Then it’s only natural that I do this then.” Before he could get a single word out, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You lingered there for a moment, trying to process your own mess of feelings, before pulling away with reddening cheeks.

His eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated as he gazed at you with so much admiration that you couldn’t help but shy away, pulling your hand with you.

And then he spoke again, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“You deserve a yellow card for that.”

You pouted. Soccer terms were the death of you. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” He chuckled. “It was foul play.”

You bit back a smile, looking at him shyly. “How so?”

You gasped when you felt two hands on your waist, pulling you in close and right up to his chest. His eyes had never once left yours after the kiss on his cheek. He only continued to gaze at you lovingly.

“You were supposed to kiss me on the lips.” He smiled softly.

“Oh.” You rolled your eyes. “Well I’m sorry, Mr. Referee that I—“

“Blah, blah.” He smirked. “Make it up to me then.”

“As a matter of fact,” You huffed, with fake annoyance. “I will.” Your hand came up to the back of his neck and you pulled him right against his lips, making him manage out a mmph noise. Butterflies immediately filled your stomach to its very brim when his hold on your waist tightened and he began to tilt his head to deepen the kiss.

Soon enough, he began to smile into it, even breathing out a husky laugh that only turned the butterflies in your stomach into literal cartwheels. When he pulled away eventually, he still lingered on your lips, pressing small pecks on them which made you giggle.

You could see clearly that he was in a daze with the way his eyes were blanked out and his cheeks were flushed adorably.

“I think I just scored the best goal in my life.”

You erupted with laughter at that, pulling him into a hug as you hid your face in the crook of his shoulder.

“When you like someone you become so cheesy,” You laughed. “It’s hilarious.”

“Specifically because I like you.” He pulled away, searching your face with fondness. “I can’t help it.”

He took your hand in his, bringing it up to his chest, right where his heartbeat was. You widened your eyes, but you also weren’t that surprised to find that his heart was pounding rapidly.

“See?” He frowned.

You giggled. “That’s so cute. You’re so cute.”

He struggled to contain a shy grin.

“You should have this back.” He placed the crayon in your hand. It was your favorite color and it sort of looked foolish in your hand, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Sorry for stealing it in the first place…”

You stared at it, feeling all the fond memories rush through your brain. You did contemplate keeping it, but instead, you threw it behind you, letting it land somewhere among the grass of the soccer field.

“What was that for?” He groaned.

“I only like you.” You giggled. “You’re my favorite now,” You joked. "A great kisser too."

You had expected Sunwoo to retort with a comeback or tease you like he usually did. But instead, he blushed. Maybe you broke him after that kiss.

“You can't just casually say that,” He said with a pout and a bothered huff. “That’s your second yellow card. Which technically means a red card.”

“And what’s that?” You smiled slyly.

“Penalty. So come kiss me again please.”

You rolled your eyes. Taking hold of his collar, you pulled him into another kiss in which he happily obliged with an adorable hum.

Walking back home together, it seemed that Sunwoo couldn't keep his lips off you.

"For the project, what grade do you think we'll ge- mm?" You were interrupted by his lips on yours once again. You stared at him, bewildered. "At least let me talk, Sunwoo."

He pressed another kiss to your lips. And then two more on each of your cheeks. And then one on your nose. You squeezed your eyes shut with mortification.

"No can do," He replied, smirking slightly. "You look too pretty for me not to kiss you. Like you do everyday."

You clutched the bouquet close to your heart. Oh, he was going to be the death of you.

(eric when i find u im going to kill u -Y/n)

(ahhh ur so scaryyyyyyy -Eric)

Grade: 95% (-5 points for bad grammar.)

–

“Eric!” You yelled, running toward him with one fist already raised. Your other hand was… preoccupied. With holding Sunwoo’s hand as he trailed after you like a lost puppy.

Eric snickered at the sight, even pulling out his phone to take a picture of you practically dragging your boyfriend along.

“Hey, at least give me the credit for getting you together!” He shouted back as you approached him. “I had to set it up. You both were getting frustrating.”

“We didn’t need your help.” You glared.

Eric raised an eyebrow and glanced at Sunwoo. “I don’t know. I could tell he was too shy to say anything, hence why I–” He pointed at himself proudly. “–had to come in. You should’ve seen how focused he was when making that bouquet. He is in love.”

“Are you?” You grinned, facing Sunwoo. His ears had tinted red, funnily enough.

He shrugged, trying to act completely normal. “Maybe, maybe not.” Yet he refused to look you in the eye.

You turned back to Eric, only to see him smiling knowingly. You laughed, already knowing what he was going to say. It seems that best friends share the same thoughts.

“He is so in love,” Eric whispered, cupping his hand around his mouth.

“Shut up,” Sunwoo grumbled. Yet he continued to gaze at you with heart eyes.

#SUNWOO BEING A SIMP IS SO 🥰🥰😍🥰🥰#This is so sweet if someone doesnt do all this for me rnrnrnrn #eric is just a lil silly goofy sometimes #i love two oblivious lovebirds and their meddling bffs #its my favorite trope tbh #itsbeeble #itsbeeble fic recs #the boyz #the boyz imagines #the boyz fluff #kim sunwoo #kim sunwoo x reader

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kimsunwooarchive · 2 years ago

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#he’s my baby boy omg #kim sunwoo #sunwoo #2023 #black hair #boba eyes #cute #selfie #hands #silly #sns post #we need to discard his blurtool #let the hand hair out king we love to see it

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sxtansays · 2 years ago

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sxtansays...inicia un blog.

holap, esta es mi primera vez escribiendo en mi cuenta de tumblr; la verdad es que he decidido usar esta app como un método de desahogo, literalmente un blog.

amigo, los blogs son como del año del caldo de verdad, pero justo ahora, sentada en uno de los escritorios de mi universidad, ya no me parece tan mala idea. creo que en mi mente ya no es tan malo un blog por el hecho de que hoy hablé con mi asesora y me dijo un par de cosas que parecen ser ciertas: que soy ansiosa y que debería distraer mi mente.

la parte de ‘distraer la mente’ la tenía completamente dominada cuando empecé a escribir mi fic markhyuck ‘eraser’, pero hace una semana escribí algo fuerte y me drenó todas las energías para seguir escribiendo o seguir con el hilo de la historia; es un proyecto que definitivamente quiero terminar pero sé que tomará tiempo y yo soy desesperada.

hablando de fics, tengo muchas ganas de escribir lo que sentí por ‘scary love’ capítulo por capítulo...¿debería hacerlo? contexto, ‘scary love’ es un fanfic que me leí hace un mes y que de verdad no puedo superar, trata sobre uno de mis ships favoritos del kpop y TERMINA MAL, bueno, no mal, pero si definitivamente lloré y no lo suelto.

no quiero hacer el inicio tan largo y tampoco pienso escribir formal o como en mis historias; me gustaría que esto sea mucho más casual y que sientan que hablan con alguien REAL porque así es.

chauchi, escribiré pronto...creo. BESOS XOXO.

also, hay una recomendación de canción porque era lo que estaba escuchando mientras escribía esto y bueno, ajá, se las quería poner.

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sunwooyeon · 2 years ago

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#🥺#the boyz #tbz #sunwoo #kim sunwoo #my lovely

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gluion · 1 year ago

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i just fell to the floor because of this beautiful work… so much thoughts being thunk rn… for starters, the way you perfectly capture sunwoo is AMAZING. it actually does feel like him.

now, reading this fic was like having to step out of my body and really see myself just rot and scream because of how beautifully written each paragraph is. there’s so much emotions on reader’s end that i found myself relating to (we are self sabotagers) and i think thats what made this fic such a painful read (though when sunwoo talked abt being a househusband i actually wanted to jump).

honestly, this is just beautiful. i dont even know what else i can say. words dont do this work justice. please just read this.

gravity (is the distance between you and me)

kim sunwoo x gn!reader

you tell yourself that this is for the best, that you’re only doing what needs to be done. even if it hurts now, even if it never stops hurting, maybe this is truth you’ve been running from this whole time. maybe this is just acceptance. — or: you break up with sunwoo because you love him, because you refuse to let him fall back down to earth with you; everything that follows after is an inescapable gravity.

idolverse!sunwoo x non-celeb!reader, exes!au, mostly reader-centric // 13.6k // angst with a teeny bit of fluff in between // told in alternating past and present timeskips, vaguely canon timeline but don’t look too close // 🪐fic playlist (for full experience)

if you enjoyed the fic, please leave feedback!

prologue. (love is…)

it occurs to you on a sunday night, the second-hand of the clock only a few ticks away from midnight, that this was never meant to be.

you try to not hear echoes of sunwoo’s voice in your head, admonishments scolding you gently to go to sleep, but it plays in your head regardless. truthfully, it had always sat on the edge of nagging, but you supposed that when it was him, it ended up more endearing than anything else: the pout in his lips, the scrunch in his brow, the worry in his eyes as he'd brush a strand of loose hair out of your face.

there was always something else in his gaze, something you could never quite pinpoint—like he saw something you couldn't, like his gaze had stripped you bare of everything you'd put up to protect yourself. you try not to chase the rabbit's trail thinking about it, shoving the ghost of the memory beneath a quick, heated blink of the eyes.

it doesn't matter anymore. you've lost the chance to figure out what it had meant.

you almost laugh at the reminder; it seems you haven’t changed, even now. greed had always been your deadliest sin, despite everything. you want, and want, and want.

you want what you can’t have, you tell yourself, but you stop at the thought. that's not it.

pause, rewind, play.

because the truth of the matter is, you just want what you don't deserve. you don’t deserve this—the sun-soaked kitchens, the teasing glances, the rhythmic sway in each others' arms as you wait for the rice cooker to beep, your timer set for the oven to ring, the world to finish turning from gold to dark blue to midnight. it's softness that makes your lungs collapse in on themselves, tenderness that burns your skin from even the gentlest brush.

you've been selfish for long enough, you think, indulging in pleasures that should have never been yours. and no matter how tightly you want to continue clinging onto sunwoo's sweet words and empty promises, the little voice in your head drowns it all out in the end.

it's not supposed to be painless; it's rational, practical, inevitable, but so is snipping off the dead leaves off your plant after they've died, tying a tourniquet to a limb before cutting it off to prevent the infection from spreading.

(it's for his own good. you should have done this a long time ago.)

so you pick up your phone, send a single text message to sunwoo, and wait; your knuckles turn white with the knife in your hands, like the first press of the blade to your skin. tie the knot tight, grit your teeth, you can never go back to what once was.

it's 12:03AM when your phone lights up again, eyes burning in the brightness. you can only watch as you bleed.

after. (love is sacrifice.)

chanhee calls you monday, the morning after.

it’s not so much that you weren’t expecting it, moreso that you were hoping that you’d be proven wrong, that maybe chanhee could have let it go, let it all play out without any extra fuss, but thinking back on it now, you suppose the mere thought of that was already a hopeless endeavor. phone vibrating on the counter, the caller id blares ‘choi chanhee’ in big white letters, predictably incessant.

you can practically feel the pensiveness in the buzzing. the bated breath, the knit brows, his finger tapping on the table as chanhee waits for your voice to replace the dialing tone over the speaker. you have half a mind to just let it ring.

after all, what more could he really say? it was all over and done with, and he’d just be wasting his breath trying to convince you otherwise. but still, your phone continues to ring, and despite your better judgment, your finger slides to accept.

(if you were going to start it, you might as well go until the very end of the aftermath.)

“hello?”

chanhee lets out a sharp breath, his voice falling to a hush. “are you serious?”

not even a ‘hello’ back, you lament silently. your bottom lip catches between your teeth, nail picking at the loose skin on your thumb as you try to form a reply on your tongue. “about what?”

he calls out your name in response, exasperated. you can practically see the wrinkles knit tight in his forehead, each word stressed more than the last as he continues to scold you. “don’t play dumb with me,” chanhee retorts. “did you seriously break up with sunwoo?”

ah. straight to the point, as expected. you shift your gaze to the clock on the wall, focusing on the rhythmic ticking as it works its way through a new hour. your breathing slows to match, heart steeling, your voice thinning out into something you know you can control. “he told you?”

he scoffs, harsh breath crackling over the speaker. “he didn’t need to. he’s locked himself in his room since last night and won’t talk to anyone else. it isn’t hard to figure out when you were the last person he called.”

the influx of questions almost come pouring out before you bite your tongue—doesn’t he have schedules today? do you know if he slept last night? did he even eat at all since then— “oh,” you manage to breathe out.

“what are you doing?” he asks plainly. it’s a simple question, and it’s one you don’t know how to answer.

“i…” you chew your bottom lip, eyes picking out a small scuff on the side of your coffee table. funny, you don’t remember it being there before you had moved. “i’m not sure what you mean.”

“don’t do that, you know exactly what i mean,” chanhee counters back. “why did you break up with him? and don’t give me some bullshit excuse, because we’d both know you’d be lying.”

the clock continues to tick on the wall, and you drag your eyes over to it once more, its needle in a constant state of motion. three minutes. you could unravel the truth to chanhee in three minutes, at least the parts that really matter. choi chanhee is many things—nosy, opinionated, a gossip, but he isn’t tactless. no matter who he ends up spilling his complaints to about you and sunwoo and this entire situation, you know not a single word from his lips will ever reach sunwoo’s ears. no matter how close you and chanhee are, you would have ended the call then and there if you weren’t certain of it.

“it’s for the best,” you say softly, and it sounds so simple when you put it like that. like the nights toiling over sending that final text were all for nothing because this was just how it was meant to be, like you were just fighting the inevitable.

“you can’t actually believe that.”

something in your chest sparks, a flicker of a flame that lends itself to “we both know—” before you cut yourself off, catching the growing volume and thickness in your voice before chanhee can pick it out and lay it bare. “we both know it was never going to work out like how we wanted.”

you tense, waiting for chanhee’s incoming rebuke, but he goes quiet for a few moments before trying to speak again, slowly and carefully. “what happened?”

“nothing happened,” you stress, shaking your head, and you smear over the memory that flashes by, the hurt and loneliness that fades into nothing more than streaks of color and silence. “i just did what i should have done a long time ago.”

“you—”

“i have to go, chanhee.” choke it back. hold it in. “take care of him, okay?”

chanhee makes a noise of protest, but you hang up before he gets the chance to say anything more. you try not to look at the clock on the wall again—you already know those three minutes had passed a long time ago.

(heat surges to the bridge of your nose, pressure builds at the back of your eyes. those three minutes had passed, so it was okay now, right? it was okay to let go?)

on monday morning, six minutes past ten, you sit tourniquet-tied in a pool of dried blood of your own making, and you cry.

before. (love is youth—)

it all starts out as whispers at first.

rumors of a new transfer student spread quickly through the halls, jokes about new competition within the school said just as easily and nonchalantly as discussing the new main course added onto the lunch menu, or the latest news about which celebrity they think would make it onto dispatch headlines within the next year. it’s routine, at this point, their gossip becoming just another common occurrence during the school year. all of it is just too familiar, too predictable, your classmates’ voices droning on in your head as their gossip goes through one ear and out the other.

the new kid gets introduced during homeroom first period, and the whispers grow to a murmur. the clacking of the drumsticks from a couple kids in the back of the class stop, and the boys playing guitar in the corner of the room go silent, eyes bright and watching.

he introduces himself as kim sunwoo, an applied music major, and you wonder if he’s just another kid wanting to fulfill their idol dream—a trainee? a trainee-wannabe? there certainly weren’t a lack of those in the applied music department, and at a school like hanlim, most transfer students ended up being one of the two. repressing a sigh, you bury your head inside the crook of your arm, slumping against your desk. as if there weren’t enough empty desks scattered around the classroom belonging to students skating by their classes in favor of trainee and idol life.

you’ve heard too many whispering aspirations from other trainees about gaining fame and popularity, thousands of adoring fans loving them through their music, but you know it never really is about the music—it’s always just a means to an end, not that you could really fault them for it. everyone was working hard in different ways for their dreams, but after months of being paired with and surrounded by people who were barely around and hard to reach with a noticeable lack of passion for the same music you came to hanlim for, you’ve grown a little tired of it all.

even the class president, park jihoon, couldn’t be excluded from that nasty habit. with more absences than attendances on his record, you had to wonder if all that struggle as a trainee at such a major entertainment company was worth it. but still, at least he tried his best at his job whenever he was here: leading the class, keeping everyone under control whenever they inevitably got frisky, and—(your eyes catch him walking over to the sunwoo’s desk and introducing himself)—making small talk with the new kids.

“where are you from?” jihoon asks, head tilted curiously. “seoul?”

sunwoo nods, and from the bits of conversation you overhear from a few desks away, it’s just as you guessed. the transfer to hanlim was only to get him one step closer to becoming an idol. you can see it all so clearly, another empty desk, another dream of wanting fame.

“are you in a company, then?”

“no, i…” sunwoo rubs the back of his neck, shaking his head half in a stupor. you can practically hear his thoughts in his poorly-veiled expression, the culture shock of the applied music department in a school like hanlim striking him swiftly. “not yet, i’m looking for one now.”

“ah, i see,” jihoon nods faintly, a spitting image of a cool class representative, and you stifle a snort beneath a hidden smile. as if jihoon didn’t only just get accepted into yg entertainment two months ago. he’s lame as always.

the boy sitting behind sunwoo chirps in after, asking him questions and starting up conversation along with another kid in their column. chin rested on your hand, you turn your head towards the window again, tuning out your classmates in favor of watching the clouds outside drift slowly along with the wind.

(he was planning on being a trainee, after all; there wasn’t really a point in becoming invested in someone you knew you were never going to see much of again.)

except, a couple of weeks later, your teacher announces a month-long songwriting project, and sunwoo’s name gets called out next to yours as random pairs are chosen as partners. he meets your eyes from across the room, giving you a small nod of acknowledgement, and you try not to let the apprehension show on your face when you give him a polite smile in response.

you don’t even know if he knew how to write lyrics.

“so we’re writing lyrics given our assigned theme, right?” sunwoo asks after class, chair pulled up to your desk as you brainstorm for ideas.

you nod, peering over at his sheet cautiously. “do you have any ideas on how to start?”

“well,” sunwoo starts, lips pursed as he taps his pencil on his paper. “the theme is ‘love,’ right? so we could do anything about that, but…”

“it’s too broad of a topic,” you finish, frowning.

“yeah,” his eyes flicker to yours, mouth gaping open slightly, his eyes a little wide. “exactly.”

you hum in thought, a few seconds passing in silence before you pull your wired earphones out of your pocket, offering him an earbud after. you figured if you were partners, you might as well work hard together. “let’s start with this, then,” you try. “what do you think when you listen to it?”

songs were stories, after all, even without the lyrics. like putting together parts of a puzzle and assembling it piece by piece, it was your job to find what part of the story was untold and fill in the missing words.

sunwoo furrows his brows, leaning closer. the earbud wire dangles precariously over the desk, headphone jack connected to your phone in the middle. breath held, you try to ignore the close proximity in favor of focusing on the chords, the bass, the melody. even with just the guide melody, each note sounds like a confession, like a secret waiting to be unveiled, wanting to be stripped and laid in the open.

“it’s a sad song,” you comment, breaking the silence, “but it’s like…it sounds like there’s more to it than that?” you let the question hang in the air, looking at him half-expectant.

“it almost sounds…” sunwoo begins, trailing off as he mulls over his words.

“bittersweet?”

sunwoo nods as he hurries to scribble down a few words onto the sheet of paper. the puzzle piece clicks into place. “that’s what i was thinking too. like there’s still something left to remember even if it’s all over, like…”

“like even in the hurt, it’s still—“

“—love.”

before. (love is lonely.)

party streamers littered on the floor throughout the living room, the metallic gold strips of paper and plastic scattered amongst silver glint in the darkness, catching in the lowlight. balloons of all different types of assortments were sprinkled throughout your apartment as well, regular colorful latex balloons floating above your couch and set atop your coffee table and fallen beneath your stools, while the fancier balloons had been pinned on an empty wall of your kitchen, ‘happy birthday’ with an extra exclamation mark and heart balloon spelled out in big bubble letters.

sat at the kitchen table, you watch in silence as a small candle flickers in front of you, placed in a single cupcake that your friends had insisted on saving for you after the party.

(for when he calls, they had said gently, pushing the cupcake and the unopened candle towards you. you can blow it out with him, make your birthday wish together.)

it paints you orange, the soft glow just warm enough for you to barely feel it as shadows dance on the table. ten minutes away from midnight, you hold your breath, something in your chest deflating as you close your eyes, readying yourself to blow out the candle.

your phone lights up, ringing; you scramble to salvage what lingering traces of hope you have left.

you try not to think too much of it when the incoming call shows up as a voice call rather than video like it usually is, but your greeting slips out a little too quickly, too obvious to tell that you were waiting for him to call. “hi, sunwoo.”

“hey,” sunwoo greets back, words spoken slowly, his voice tracing the edge of a drowsy rasp. any trace of bringing up the voice call goes out the window. if this had been any normal circumstance, you would have teased him for mistapping his screen, playfully badger him to switch over to video call so you could see him in all his bare-faced glory. (but then again, a small voice in the back of your mind interrupts, if this were any normal circumstance, he would have just been here instead of across the world.) you push the thought away; a small drop of wax begins to melt down the candle.

“we just got back to our hotel,” he tells you, and you can see it clearly almost as if you were there. the contents of their luggage messily splayed about the carpeted hotel floor, outfits for tomorrow draped on the chairs, and dirty clothes piled in a hamper in the corner. you can faintly hear a shower being turned on in the background, and sunwoo comments on it before you can ask. “can you believe this? changmin-hyung kicked me out of the bathroom as soon as we came into our room,” he complains, and you know that his lip is jutted out in a pout of indignation at the injustice of it all. “he said that i’d take too long and use up all the hot water if i went first.”

“well…” you chide softly, a smile faint on your lips. “he’s not exactly wrong, sunwoo.”

sunwoo whines, and you can hear him kick the sheet on the mattress. “you’re siding with him?”

“sorry,” and you don’t sound apologetic in the slightest. “you know i can’t lie.”

he grumbles something unintelligible as you breathe out something resembling a laugh. silence lulls for a few seconds, your shadow long on the tabletop, and you try to harden the twist in your gut, gathering the courage.

“i—”

“today—”

you stop, and so does he.

“oh, you go first,” sunwoo offers, but you hesitate, offering back.

“no, it’s okay, you go.”

sunwoo insists again, but you can sense his fight against his heavy eyelids growing closer by the second, the yawn that he stifles every time he pauses, so you force down the confession, keep your wish tucked away within the flickering candlelight. he would know, right?

“no, i mean it—what were you going to say? how was your day? how was the flight?”

there’s a moment of uncertainty where sunwoo tries to decide whether or not to continue the exchange, but he gives in eventually. “the flight was good,” he begins, albeit still reluctant. “the plane food was better than usual, surprisingly.”

you hum in acknowledgement, encouraging him to continue.

“and i fell asleep an hour in and—chanhee-hyung,” he interrupts himself, suddenly remembering. “i fell asleep and chanhee took these photos of me and—”

“were you drooling?” you guess, sympathetic.

“how did you—i mean no! i was not drooling!”

“chanhee’s newshots will never lie, you know.”

“ugh,” sunwoo groans. “remind me why you’re friends with him again?”

you contemplate, humming. “birds of a feather?”

(chanhee had actually sent you the photos earlier this morning, along with the text “happy birthday, here’s a loser as your gift.” he followed it up with an additional message of “your loser…i guess.”)

“oh, speaking of birds,” sunwoo adds, “that reminds me. i saw two ducks swimming in the river today. mandarin ducks, i think.”

“oh?”

“yeah.” his voice grows quieter, almost embarrassed as he mumbles, “they reminded me of you.”

you go still. you try to fight the hardened knot in your stomach from softening and twisting further. he’s just a hopeless romantic, you tell yourself, but the knot wrings tighter, creeping up into your chest the more you try to not think about it. mandarin ducks, the symbol of love.

(“they mate for life, you know?”)

sunwoo tries to change the subject, ears surely burning red as he stammers his way to the next topic while half-muffled into a pillow. “anyway, i didn’t call you too late, did i? it’s three a.m. over here, and i wasn’t sure. i didn’t wake you up, or anything?”

your ears ring as you swallow hard, eyes burning as you look at the clock on the wall. it ticks, once. “no, it just turned midnight here.”

(you suddenly remember that chanhee had sent you another message afterwards, one that you never opened properly to read. “he’s said happy birthday to you already, right?” you had wanted to open it when you could respond with a “yes.”)

“oh, okay,” sunwoo smiles over the phone, love and affection still tangible even through the tiredness in his voice, the drowsiness that permeates through the speaker. “that’s good to hear. you should probably sleep soon, though, i don’t want to keep you up too late.”

“yeah,” you say, barely audible. were you expecting too much? “changmin should probably be done by now, too.”

“hey,” he frowns. “you okay?”

“yeah, i’m okay. just tired,” you tell him, tight-lipped as you smile.

“we never got to talk about your day,” sunwoo mentions, a reminder with gentle insistence. even on the verge of sleep, he was still trying. “i’m free after dry rehearsal, so we can call again tomorrow night? i wanna hear about it first thing.”

you draw in a breath to agree, but something else slips out instead, the one thing you had tried to keep contained since the beginning. maybe you had brought this upon yourself, holding out for it until midnight slipped between your fingers, the hope in your chest slowly unfurling. you wonder if it was obvious, the remnants scattered at your feet.

"sunwoo," you call softly. the line goes quiet. you almost regret it, the words catching in the back of your throat when you try to speak them, but you imagine what it would be like if you forced your tongue to form them anyway, awkward and wooden and hurt. “i…” it was my birthday, today. did you know? did you forget?

by the kitchen, the big trash bag tied to the outside of your trash can is filled to the brim with plastic cups and paper plates. there’s still wrapping paper you need to throw away left on the counters, leftovers that need to be transferred and stored and put in the fridge. you wonder if you would have felt better about the hassle if sunwoo was there with you—to toss an empty cup into the open bag from across the room, to listen to you talk about your favorite memories from the celebration, to turn off the final light with you at the end of it all. like the old times.

even on call, he could have done most of those things, maybe even save you time from giving him a chiding look when he’d inevitably miss throwing the cup into the trash bag by half a foot. he never really had to be here, he had just always been with you, in one way or another.

but it wasn’t not really your sunwoo anymore, was it? not really. not since he became more than that kid in the practice room with a pen between his teeth and a metronome in his hand, not since he became synonymous with the brand his name was attached to. and it was unfair of you to expect those kinds of trivial things from someone so far out of your reach now, right?

so the question remains a lump as you swallow it down—close your eyes, blink back the tears, it's your fault in the end, anyway—and smile. "no, nevermind. you must be tired, you should sleep soon."

“are you sure—“

“bye, sunwoo.”

you watch as the reflection of the flame trembles in the small pool in the center of the cupcake; the wax has long since melted onto the frosting. you blow it out, and the candle leaves only a trace of smoke curling in the air in its wake—silent, alone.

it wasn’t so much that sunwoo had forgotten your birthday, but it was everything that it encapsulated, everything it makes you realize. how he was so much bigger than this, than you, how you shouldn’t have expected him to remember every little thing when he already has so much on his plate and a hundred more important matters to worry about. didn’t you hear the rasp in his voice? the exhaustion that coated each word? how he still took the time to call you at three a.m even after a full day of work and schedules?

you place the melted candle into the trash, carving out the tainted top with an extra knife lying on the counter. don’t be a bother. don’t hinder him with needless things.

the next morning, sunwoo calls in a panic, hurried apologies blurring all his words together in a flurry as he frantically promises to make it up to you when he comes home. you tell him it’s fine, you knew he was tired and busy and you didn’t want him to worry about it, but the soft assurance can’t hide the underlying hurt that splinters between him and you.

and he does keep his promise when he returns. the day after the plane arrives home, sunwoo’s first order of business is to insist on a full day spent together, making it his mission to be at your beck and call the entire time. he showers you with countless presents from his trip overseas and twice as much affection for each day that he was gone, but even underneath all the cheery smiles and excited banter, you can’t shake the feeling from that night. the mess on the floor, the shadows distorted in orange light.

it never really is quite the same, after that.

after. (love is a martyr.)

life goes on; it always does.

not much changes, at least nothing that isn’t glaringly obvious. you throw yourself into your work like you always have, going to countless songwriting camps and workshops, sending in drafts of songs to a&r teams of various companies only to be rejected then revised and then offered again for other songs and artists by other companies, a continuous cycle that seems to blur all the following days together. the only difference is that your phone stays eerily quiet—no scheduled ding at lunchtime reminding you to eat, no pictures shared throughout the day, no good night phone call to lull you to sleep.

though, you still talk to chanhee from time to time, if only because of his persistent insistence on the matter.

“we’re recording tomorrow,” he mentions, voice crackling over the speaker. you pause for a split second over a half-open cardboard box, hand faltering over the frayed edge of the flap. you’d only recently gotten around to unpacking the rest of your boxes from your move months ago; it wasn’t as if you were too busy to get around to it, but you suppose a part of you wanted to prolong the finality of it all, whether consciously or not. and on this wednesday afternoon on a day off, you figured it was better to do it now than never at all.

you let out an “oh” in response, grabbing a few things from the box and placing it on the floor to reorganize later. “another comeback?”

chanhee’s chair squeaks as he hums, leaning back. he was in his practice room at the company—you can tell by the way he doesn’t whisper his words to you like they were a secret kept and hidden away. not like whenever he calls you at the dorm, careful of what wounds may open up again if someone were to overhear. “the teasers should be released soon.”

“you seem busy, lately,” you comment distantly, placing the phone on the table and setting it to speaker as you collect as many mini decorative plates and bowls in your hands before you stand up, ready to place them in various places around the living room and kitchen. remnants of the afternoon’s rain slips down the window glass, clouds casting the sky and your apartment a wash of dull gray. “first the tour, then a japanese album, now a comeback—are you sure you’re okay? you’re still taking care of yourself, right?”

“i mean, i’m fine,” chanhee says, a hint of ‘of course i take care of myself, who do you think i am?’ in the retort, “but.” he pauses, taking a breath, and you can tell he tests the words on his tongue before he speaks them. “are you sure it’s me you’re worried about?”

you place a bowl down on the windowsill a little harsher than you mean to. “chanhee.”

“sorry.”

chanhee at least sounds apologetic when he says it, but he interrupts the silence that falls soon after slowly, tentatively asking. “you’re going to listen to it though, right?”

you swallow hard, breathing out a long sigh as you pick up the phone again, holding it to your ear as you speak. “of course i am. did you even need to ask?”

“no,” he replies, a second’s pause where you think he shakes his head. “i just wanted to hear it from you for certain. to hear that you were still listening to us.”

‘to sunwoo.’ the words go unspoken, lying heavy in the air. it’s almost cruel, the way chanhee picks and pulls at the confession you have hidden like a wound just finished scabbing over, especially when he knows your answer just as well as you do. of course you would still be listening to sunwoo—that’s what you had promised him, way back when.

(the memory flashes by in an instant. the chill of a cool spring night, the squeak of the swing, the dim golden light of the street lamp above. you can still feel it, sometimes, the condensation slick on your fingertips, the bite of cold metal through your palm—the warmth, in spite of that.)

a small part of you whispers, what were promises really worth, in the end? you aren’t the same person you used to be, and neither is he. sixteen is a far cry from where you are in your twenties, the weight of the years lived through making you let go of the things a teenage-you wouldn’t have ever dreamed of—and that was normal, letting bits and pieces of your past selves be carried away by the passage of time. you know the same holds true for him, too.

but still. even if everything else had changed, you feel like it’s your duty, almost. to always be listening to him till the end.

“i have to go, chanhee,” you tell him, quiet. he makes a small noise over the phone, and before he can apologize, you interrupt with a small, “you’re fine. i just need to finish unpacking my stuff, and i promised myself i’d finish it all today.”

“you still haven’t unpacked?” he asks, baffled. “it’s been months?”

“i know,” you sigh, giving a little shrug. “i’ve just never gotten around to it. that’s why i have to finish it today or else i know i’ll never get back to it again.”

chanhee tells you to take care of yourself, to which you dryly remark to focus on following your own advice first and you say your farewells goodnaturedly, pressing to end the call.

it’s like a switch flips, silence falling almost immediately throughout the apartment, the heaviness in your chest weighted down even further in your solitude. you run a finger along the textured edge of the cardboard flap again, staring blankly at the items still wrapped tight in the box. a breath—in, then out, and then you blink it away, getting to work.

the box of posters and prints gets emptied out first, a roll of tape by your side as you hang up any remaining decorations that you’d left to a later affair when you’d first moved into the apartment. afterwards comes the books that you shelve carefully in alphabetical order in the small slot beneath the tv, then the living room curtains, the pack of postcards and holiday wishes kept in a tin case for safekeeping, the old journals you wrote in years ago and never looked back on since. you sometimes wonder if you should just throw them away, but you could never bring yourself to do it; you try to chalk it up to being too attached to the idea of the memories, even if you could never truly look at them again.

you heave the final box into your bedroom, hours later, huffing as you set it down in front of the drawers. sliding the bottom drawer open, the crumpled pile of clothes stuffed inside stares back at you. outside the window, golden hour peaks through your blinds, the sunset shedding just enough light for you to see in the dimness of your room. you crouch down onto the floor, knees knocking against the wood as you slowly take each article of clothing out, one by one to refold.

it was all clothes that you could afford to spare a second glance at, old shirts and pants that you never truly wore on a daily basis, clothes that were kept as another ‘just in case.’ and like the postcards and the journals and everything else in those boxes, the clothes crammed in that small space just seemed like something you kept choosing to not look at, to refuse to address in any way but in brief memory. you had told yourself that you’d always come back to it whenever you’d unpack the rest of the box of clothes, but looking back on it, maybe that was just a way of comforting yourself amidst the avoidance.

still, in the faint darkness of the room, you take each shirt out carefully, smoothing out the wrinkles and folding each crease to be in its proper shape. you had forgotten some of them existed, drawing out a small smile when you see the old mickey mouse shirt your mom had gotten you on her trip to disneyland, the student-made shirts from your high school graduating class, the club shirts you had joined in college. each refolded shirt gets stacked onto a pile beside the box, a reminder to go back and put the clothes from the box back in the drawer as well, but when you pull out the last shirt jammed in the far end of the drawer, you stop.

it’s nothing special, really, just a faded pink t-shirt with what seems like some semblance of a barely legible logo printed onto the front, but you clutch the fabric between your fingers, a memory from long ago surging back.

(“sunwoo…”

“yeah?” sunwoo pokes his head around the corner, morning sun dyeing his black hair a shade of light brown. he has a towel half-folded in his hands, corners lined up unevenly with one another. “what’s up?”

you frown, partially because you see a very near future of refolding all of the laundry he didn’t pay enough attention to, and partially because of the thing in your hands. “...you didn’t happen to put that one vintage white shirt you had in the latest pile, right?”

he frowns, eyebrows scrunching as he thinks. “i don’t know, maybe? why?”

slowly, as if to make him bear witness, you present to him his formerly treasured white shirt, freshly washed and dried, now dyed a clean shade of pale pink. “you put them in with my reds.”

sunwoo’s mouth gapes open just slightly, a small ‘ah’ escaping his lips. “i’m guessing we can’t do takebacksies on that?”

you groan, smothering your face into the shirt as you let out a long, exasperated “kim sunwoo…”

he tosses the towel in his hands onto the edge of the hamper as he steps into the laundry room, taking a closer look at it. “hey, it’s not even a big deal!” sunwoo reasons, trying to gently pry the shirt from your hands, but you wave it around accusingly before he gets a chance to get a firm grip on it.

“what do you mean,” you stress, waving the shirt that much more vigorously. “it was vintage! who knows how much you spent on this damn thing! and now it’s…” your eyes fall to it, defeated. “pink…”

“you know what, though?” he begins, taking your hands in his, and you meet his gaze, doubtful. “this is good. i’ve been wanting to give you one of my shirts anyway.”

“wha—”

sunwoo’s eyes light up, holding your hands excitedly. “it’s like, symbolic, you know? your shirt with my shirt dyed all together, it’s like…” he pauses, giving you a cheeky smile. “it’s like it’s you and me together forever.”

you can’t control the giggle that escapes after he says it, letting go of the shirt as you smack him lightly with bubbling laughter between your lips. as infectious as his smile is, dust floating in the streams of sunlight between, you call him lame for the cheesy comment because he is—he is lame for coming over to your place on his rare weekend off and of all the things he could do, he offers to fold your laundry together while simultaneously ruining one of his pieces of clothing in the process of trying to help, and then spins it in a way where none of it really matters because at the end of the day he knows it’s always just going to be him and you.

“and also, i just really want to see you in another one of my shirts.”

you throw the abandoned towel from the hamper into his face and tell him to go fold it instead, affection ever-present in your eyes. lame.)

that morning seems so far away when you think of it now. you bring the shirt to your face again—maybe for nostalgia’s sake, maybe to get some trace of what once was. wrinkles littered throughout the fabric, the smell of old wood from being stuffed in a drawer for months permeates through the shirt; darkness falls in the room as the sun fully sets, leaving only a sliver of dark orange lining the horizon.

you remember it, still. the scent of freshly washed fabric softener and the soft morning light and the heap of other clothes you and sunwoo had painstakingly gone over twice to make sure nothing else had leaked through and been dyed other colors, playful and teasing. you wonder what he would say to you if he saw you now, sitting on the floor with piles of clothes folded even with the wrinkles still tight. what he would say to you, if you listened.

and when you hold the shirt still for a second longer, breathing it in again, you realize that even the small traces of his old cologne were gone, too, all washed out with time.

you remember it all, and none of it is there anymore.

before. (love is like clouds, like fog.)

it’s a bit floaty, how the night comes to an end.

(sunwoo had arrived at your place around one a.m., hands shoved in his jacket pockets as he rocked back slightly on his feet, giving you a half-cheeky half-abashed grin. “i don’t suppose you’d be in the mood for a midnight snack, would you?”

already clad in warm pajamas and almost all finished washing up, you had stared at sunwoo for a long moment, slowly blinking, before creaking your door open wider and stepping to the side. “it’s cold. do you want ramyun?”)

he’d come immediately after practice, the sessions where they’d spent the entire day at the studio and only managed to come home at the insistence of their managers. it was for something they were preparing for, you know that for sure, so you hold your tongue from chiding him for not calling you ahead of time and instead shuffle to your kitchen, pot clanging onto the stove.

he was under enough stress as of late; you tried to support him in the ways you could, no matter how little they were.

when you both finish the two packs of ramyun and he offers to wash the pot, you shoo him away with a threatening slap of the pink rubber gloves by the sink, telling him to go wash up instead under the pretense of his post-practice sweat stinking up your entire apartment. sunwoo gasps, retorting that he smelled perfectly fine, but you give him a single look and he trudges away into the hallway, a weak indignant kick to the floor as he mumbles under his breath.

it never really comes up directly, the topic of disbandment, from you or from him. you talk of the preparation of road to kingdom, the exhaustion and stress that comes along with it, the weight its potential success carries unspoken between it all. you’re not entirely sure if the avoidance of the topic is deliberate on his part or not, but you try not to push for it too much. you know just as well as he does, and neither of you try to make it anything more than that.

“you know what,” he starts, later in the night when both of you are washed up and curled up in bed. “i’ve been thinking about it recently; it wouldn’t be so bad.”

you raise a curious brow, propping your head up as you turn to get a better look at him. “what wouldn’t?”

“you know, becoming a house husband.”

“sunwoo,” you blink. “what.” it was way too late for him to just be saying shit like this.

“i am just saying!” sunwoo gestulates dramatically with a hand, trying to prove his point. “if it doesn’t work out, i can definitely do the cooking and cleaning around this place while you go to work.”

“you can’t even clean up after yourself.”

“i can, i just don’t want to!”

you cast him a doubtful look, one filled with the knowledge that eric still complains daily about the pile of clothes tossed in the living room that are definitely sunwoo’s no matter how hard he tries to deny it, and that changmin loses half a year of his life every time he discovers another face mask sunwoo had slapped onto the wall or ceiling of their dorm room, and that the electricity bill at their dorm would run them to mere pennies if younghoon was never there to turn off the lights that sunwoo was supposed to. “is there a difference…”

“yes!” sunwoo insists, a strangely adamant look on his face. “i could totally do it. you would come home from a long and busy day of work and i’d have your entire dinner hot on the stove with a warm bath ready for you—you wouldn’t even have to lift a finger if i was there.”

you place a hand slowly on his, a placating gesture. “baby…” you coo, appeasing, and sunwoo tries to control his expression to keep up the indignancy. poorly, with the way he almost fumbles his entire stance at the mere mention of the petname, but at least you can tell he’s trying his hardest. “i think you’d burn my entire apartment down. or flood it, depending on which one goes horribly wrong first.”

“how could you!” he exclaims, pulling his hand away. “ye of little faith…” sunwoo’s voice goes grave and solemn. “don’t you want to see me in a sexy apron.”

“if i wanted to see you in a sexy apron, i would just give one to you.”

and even though sunwoo sulks and pulls a face at you, his insistence turns a bit softer when he repeats, “really, though.”

he goes quiet, picking at a loose thread on your comforter. “it wouldn’t be so bad, if…if it doesn’t work out.” ‘it’ being road to kingdom, ‘it’ being their next album, ‘it’ being the boyz as a whole; your heart sinks. “i think the rest of us would just go back home, you know? maybe we’d pretend that these past years never happened, maybe all these memories would just turn bitter, but…” sunwoo gives you a lopsided smile, soft. “i would still come back home to you.”

the sentiment aches a little, your breath hitching as you try to rifle through the layers of emotions that sink to the bottom of your stomach, like picking at skin still raw underneath and not yet ready to peel. you wonder if he means it, if he truly sees you as a home to come back to or if you’re just something familiar, something safe; it’s not much of a distinction, but the details make all the difference—whether you’re somewhere he belongs, or if you’re simply kept sepia-tinted as a place to keep his preserved youth. the words escape from you before you can stop them.

“you don’t have to, you know.”

sunwoo pauses, and there’s a silence that falls soon after that makes you shrink into yourself, regretting words that can’t be taken back. “what do you mean?”

“if it doesn’t…” you don’t want to speak it into existence—they’ll do well, they have to. you try to form your words carefully, deliberately, so that they’ll be spoken correctly and convey exactly what it is you mean, but it all comes poorly anyway, clumsy and messy as you trip over your own tongue. “you don’t have to…you know.” your mouth goes dry. “stay.”

sunwoo tries to not look offended at the suggestion, even if his furrowed brows say it all. but despite his own feelings on the matter, he tries his best to reign in his instinctive reaction, instead going to slowly coax you away from the ledge you’ve driven yourself to.

“i mean, i know i don’t have to,” he purses his lips, frowning. “it’s not like i feel obligated or anything, but i want to.” i love you, he means. i want to love you, i choose to love you.

there are a lot of things about sunwoo that you don’t quite understand—how he can internalize his envy to fuel his ambition, or how he still remains soft-hearted even after all these years, but you can’t begin to understand why sunwoo still holds onto you when you’ve long since stopped being something that he needs, nothing but a safe reminder of what once was. does he know? can he sense the way the two of you have started constantly tiptoeing around each other while trying to keep up an easy sense of normalcy, the memory of youth neither of you can return to?

you’ve been holding back from each other—not just him, but you too. it’s easy, to slip into old banter and avoid the things bothering you, to play the part of your teenage selves full of passion and hopeful, unattained dreams, and maybe sunwoo knows this too. maybe he knows and he doesn’t want to admit it, allowing his world to be rose-colored to cling onto a past that leaves him loveblind to what he really needs, to keep him from acknowledging the fact that you’re nothing but a fragment of the past, something kept to fester.

sunwoo is a star, you think—no, you know. you’ve known for quite some time now, how he was bright and shining and meant for things lightyears away from anything you could ever see, and yet here he was instead: inside your apartment late at night in your bed, talking about how he was ready to fall back down to earth to be with you. like you were tying him down to somewhere he was never meant to stay, he was never meant to be.

and an hour later, when time sits between the precipice of twilight and dawn, you whisper an apology to him so faint it lingers in the air, floating between you and sunwoo’s still form. you’re sure he doesn’t hear it, that he’s been sound asleep for the past couple of minutes and it remains a secret between you and the not-yet-risen sun, but sunwoo shifts slightly, blinking at you in the dark, and ah. he wasn’t asleep after all.

turning to fully face you, he sits up to match your posture and takes a breath, a hand coming to rest on the back of your head as he bumps his forehead gently into yours. his eyes flicker over your features, concern etched clear even in the blinking drowsiness. “what?” what are you talking about, are you okay? “what for?”

you shake your head, leaning into his touch as if to have the memory of him last just a little longer on your skin. it’s too much to say, too much of a weight to have sunwoo shoulder alongside you. so you tamp it down, swallowing back the lump in your throat as you blink away the heat behind your eyes. i’m just sorry. for everything.

sunwoo’s brows furrow, sheets rustling as he shifts again to sit up straighter, but you find his hand gently, threading your fingers through his as you smile—something soft and tender and so full of burdens it slips through and becomes fragile instead.

“it’s okay. nevermind.”

after. (love is a dream, lingering.)

you’re not sure if you can feel your face by the time you come stumbling back into your apartment.

fresh from a work dinner, the alcohol still buzzes in your system even through the barbeque you’d eaten along with the soju, even after the taxi ride home. too many seniors had offered to pour your drinks, all attributing them to the success of the most recently released song you’d worked on, and of course, you had to take it all with two hands, a polite smile, and the burn of the liquid on its way down. even if the taxi ride home had sobered you up slightly, your head still remains fuzzy and unfocused by the time you find the right key to your apartment and fumble with it before opening up the door.

you kick off your shoes by the front and drop your bag somewhere by the kitchen before making your way to the living room, coat thrown on the ground as you crumple yourself in the space between your coffee table and the foot of the couch. slipping your phone out of your pocket, you wince at the sudden brightness of the screen as it lights up. the apartment always seemed loneliest, like this.

it’s late, almost two in the morning from what you can make out from the glare of the screen, but you only look at it for a second before you swipe up, squinting as you enter your passcode. everything after this, you know, has morphed its way into being muscle memory more than anything else.

you ignore the warning that pops in the corner of your phone in a red-laced ‘20% remaining’ and you let the practiced motions take over, tapping phone, then voicemail, and before you know it you’re back where you always are, staring at the only recording in your inbox before you press play.

a few seconds of silence fill the air, static crackling over the speaker, and then a voice speaks.

“hey.” it comes out shaky, just barely enough for you to tell. you want to say you probably wouldn’t have been able to hear it if you hadn’t listened to it so many times by now, but truthfully, you’d heard the slight tremble in the voice since the very first time.

(it was sunwoo, after all. how could you not know?)

sunwoo takes in a sharp breath, the beginning of an apology readying to end the call caught in his throat; you sometimes try to imagine a world where the apology goes through, where he instead tells you sorry, i shouldn’t have called and hangs up before the point of no return, but you’re glad this is the world you live in instead. the one where sunwoo swallows past the regret and starts to speak again, too light and full of faux casualness for his easy demeanor to be sincere, the one where you have the chance to hear his voice again. “strange hearing from me, right? shit, i don’t even know if this is still your number—i guess i could have asked chanhee-hyung to make sure but i’m not sure he would have been too happy to hear me ask about you.”

he pauses, and from the amount of times you’ve listened to it you’ve made into something resembling a little game, filling in the gaps of what he could have done in the pockets of silence—like he’d squeezed his eyes shut at the thought, or he’d pressed into the spot between his eyes to fight away the image of chanhee’s disapproving stare. “he always did that, you know. for a long time after…” sunwoo bites his tongue. “i think it was pity, like he felt bad. not that he needed to, or anything, but you know how he is.”

he pauses again, as if scrambling for what to say next, what direction to take the one-sided conversation. “i, um, i don’t know if you heard, but we recently moved to a new dorm. we split into three separate ones, so we all got our own room, and you think that’d be great and everything after sharing a room with kevin-hyung for the past few years but we played rock, paper, scissors for our room picks and—” indignancy sneaks its way into his cadence, and you smile at this part always “—i really think i got the smallest room. i’m pretty sure it’s smaller than the bathroom. and jacob-hyung got the biggest room!” sunwoo continues, grumbling. “i’m not mad about it or anything, it’s fine… it just seems a little unfair, don’t you think? and, and…”

your eyes flicker, watching the seconds on the timestamp tick by as sunwoo continues to ramble about the most miniscule of things: more dorm shenanigans that sunwoo insists he was completely innocent in, how he’d run into jihoon backstage during a music show after not seeing him for a while, the pictures his members had posted for his birthday that he claims could have potentially ruined his ‘sexy and charismatic’ image with the fans forever. it all feels like he’s scraping the surface, the real reason he called still buried deep beneath all the frivolous hedging; it’s become almost obvious, given the amount of times you’ve listened to it, how each word is just another second stalled trying to build up enough courage.

and finally, when all of sunwoo’s pretense dies, when the lull at the other end of the line comes again, whatever he was planning on saying next deflates as he goes quiet, finally gathering enough courage for the whole truth. you mouth the words, ears buzzing, the timing and cadence seared into your memory.

“you were in my dream last night.”

you remember the morning you’d woken up to this voicemail, remember your thumb hovering over play but not finding it in yourself to press it. you know—you’ve known since the beginning that the recording would only add to your troubles, but on a night like tonight where the noise of the work party still echoes in your head and the apartment feels lonelier than ever after a tipsy ride home, the bruise feels too tender for you to do anything but press into it, over and over and over again.

“i’m not even sure why i called you just to tell you that—i didn’t even get to say it to you.” sunwoo lets out a wry laugh. “i mean, of course you wouldn’t pick up, it’s five in the morning, i don’t really know what i was expecting, but i…no.” the confession tumbles from his lips, shaky and vulnerable and no matter how many countless times you’ve heard it, it still feels like slicing open an old wound. “i think i just wanted to hear your voice.”

sometimes, you let this section play out fully, his words like tiny shards of glass forming cuts on your skin without stopping; other times, you press pause just to replay it, just to hear him say it again, just to feel the sting and ache as you try to recreate the rawness you’d felt the very first time you heard it. salt in a wound is still salt no matter what name it tries to go by, but you suppose that’s why you’ve trapped yourself in this routine in the first place—to make sure the bruise still hurts, to pick at the scab just to see it bleed.

“i guess it just didn’t work out though, did it? your voicemail’s still the same automated message it’s been since high school, so all i’m really doing here is embarrassing myself.” everything laid down and exposed with no walls left to hide behind, sunwoo’s words come quiet and fragile. “i think a part of me expected it to still be the same, but—maybe the other part of me hoped things had changed. isn’t that ironic?” he breathes out a small resigned laugh. “change is what got us here in the first place, and now here i am, talking to myself and leaving a voicemail to a number that i’m not even sure is yours. pretty stupid of me, right?”

sunwoo swallows hard and so do you, the memory of the words ringing in your ears before he speaks them. “i miss you,” he says eventually. “i’m sorry.”

the faint static on the other end of the line tapers on for one, two, three seconds more before the recording finally ends, stretching into true silence. the first few times you had listened to it, you’d kept your ear pressed to the speaker, replaying those last few seconds desperate for anything else you could have missed, anything you could make out after his final words. now, you simply stare at the screen, still burning bright in the dark.

it’s almost funny, the way this has formed itself into something resembling a bad habit. every time, you go through the motions like they’re old and used and worn because they are, no matter how much you refuse to admit it; and each time, you take the shame and the guilt that curls in your stomach and ball it up inside of you, letting it seep into your bones, so that the next morning when you wake up, you can look at yourself with your newly polished and clean exterior and pretend that it’s merely something left in the past.

but for now, you hit play on the recording again, watching the seconds tick by once more.

(the next morning, you wake up to your phone still in your hands, battery completely dead, the previous night nothing but a pounding headache and a blur of what might have been. a new day, and yet it all feels like the same motions all over again.

you ignore the calcified shame within you, play ignorant to the cycle that will inevitably repeat itself the next time a night like that comes again, and you pretend that this is the one thing you won’t let go of, even if it turns into all you have left.)

before. (—you were my youth.)

it’s a tuesday night when you see sunwoo again.

dressed only in sweats and a jacket for extra warmth, you had just finished your regularly scheduled convenience store snack run, plastic bag in hand, when you turn the corner and see a glimpse of him: backpack slung over his shoulder, trudging steps, wearing single gray hoodie that was no doubt too thin for him to not catch a cold on an early spring night. blinking, you register the familiar face for a split second before you call out after him, half-jogging to catch up.

“hey! hey, sunwoo!”

for a moment, it’s almost as if he doesn’t hear you; and then, his foot stops in front of the other, hand moving to take out an earbud. sunwoo turns around, gaze wandering until he meets your gaze. his eyes light up in recognition as he makes out your face in the residual light from the convenience store windows, the glow of the street lamp a few feet away.

he holds up a hand for a polite wave. “oh, hey.”

“heading home?” you ask, peering at him. you hadn’t really seen much of him these past few months, other than the increasingly sparse times you’d spot him in class.

“yeah,” sunwoo nods, a slight smile to go along with it. “just got back from training.”

“ah, i see.” it’s a little strange, looking at him now. even if you hadn’t taken a good look at him recently, you could still tell something was a little off about him; maybe in the way he was carrying himself, the heaviness of his step, the half-hearted way his smile didn’t look quite like the one you were used to.

then again, what did you know? it wasn’t as if you were best friends or anything—after you’d partnered with him for that one project months ago, you’d only talked to him a handful of times, either in passing or when you saw each other around. calling him a close friend would be far from the truth, but calling him just a classmate wouldn’t exactly be accurate either. you suppose he stood in a strange middle ground, one you didn’t seem to mind.

but even so, maybe even just the implication of friendship was enough for the concern to fully settle itself into your mind, the reason why you can’t bring yourself to just brush off his exhaustion as a result of the late hour, and why you impulsively jab your thumb towards the neighborhood playground a block away, the plastic bag in your hands rustling from the motion. “you wanna make a small pitstop before you go?”

and surprisingly, despite a moment’s hesitation, sunwoo takes you up on the offer.

it’s how you find yourself sitting together on the swingset, the subtle squeak of metal on metal almost serving as a familiar comfort as you rock back and forth, heels digging into the bark beneath. “i heard you got into loen, right?” you try, peeling your awkward stare from the chipped paint on the side of the swing over to the boy next to you. “how is that going? i never really got the chance to congratulate you on it.”

“it’s good,” sunwoo replies, almost on instinct, but before he can continue, he closes his mouth instead. the rest of the sentence tapers off into an awkward silence, leaving you to fill in the gaps.

“tough?” you ask, more of a rhetorical than anything else. maybe you were overstepping your bounds by prying, but the least you could do is offer a lending ear, especially now that you were both here anyway. “i might not be a trainee,” you offer, “but i know it can’t be easy.”

sunwoo presses his lips into a line, swallowing in contemplation, before nodding.

“i don’t know,” he confesses, the toe of his shoe digging a hole into the woodchips. “it’s definitely hard, but it’s not just that… i like that it’s hard, you know? it means i’m challenging myself and it means i’m learning, it’s just—they said they’re selecting the debut lineup soon.” the swing chain squeaks between the rustling of the bark. “what if i don’t make it?”

(what if i never make it?)

you get it—the uncertainty that haunts every step of this path. you’ve seen enough of your friends and classmates drop everything to pursue their dreams, only to have it thrown back in their face, failures either resulting in a renewed perseverance or the battering of their soul. and even if you weren’t taking part in the same rigorous and merciless training process that plagues them, the crumbling foothold follows you too, at times, all for a dream you can’t ensure will spare you even pennies in return.

but you do it because you want to, because you have to, because you love it too much for there to be any other option you’d be willing to fathom. and in spite of the short time you’ve gotten to know him, you’re sure the same holds true for sunwoo, too.

“then you try again.” his head shoots up, and you meet his eyes with a smile. “and you keep trying and trying until you can’t anymore—because you love it, right? dancing, singing, performing? you wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t.”

you watch his expression carefully as your words land, waiting for the smallest sign to back off, but instead, sunwoo gives you a resolute nod, taking each word to heart.

“you can do it,” you tell him, every word sincere. “i know you can.”

there’s a certain weight in his gaze afterwards that almost makes you regret having said it, almost like you’ve overstepped in your own direction instead. what were you even doing?

the sudden intimacy of the moment settles into your stomach all at once, and you try to grasp at anything to bring back the lighthearted mood of a few minutes ago—for your own sake. clearing your throat, you try to dispel the sudden heaviness in the air.

“in any case,” you start, rifling through your bag. fishing out a container of strawberry milk, you stand up and walk over to sunwoo, pressing it against his cheek; he jumps from the sudden cold against his skin. “you know we have exams coming up, right?”

sunwoo groans, raising a hand to take the milk. “what if i just dropped out like jihoon?”

before he can grab it, you press the container harder into his face, frowning. “don’t even think about it!”

“but…” sunwoo looks up at you with sad, shining eyes, panhandling for a single ounce of pity. “that means no more exams…”

“and then what,” you reply dryly.

he finally takes the milk from your hands, pressing it to his forehead with his eyebrows furrowed, the beads of condensation threatening to slip down his palm. “okay, you have a good point.”

you roll your eyes, but sunwoo snaps his head up after a second of thinking longer, milk sloshing in the container at the sudden motion. “you wouldn’t leave me out to die all on my own, would you?”

“huh—”

sunwoo pleads your name in a dramatic fashion, hesitating a little before grabbing your hands to continue his spiel. you have a brief yet vivid image of his resemblance to a raccoon digging through your trashcan in your front yard. begging for scraps… “you have to remember me when you’re famous, okay…”

“sunwoo,” you exasperate, trying to pry your hands away from his, freezing and wet from the cold milk. “you aren’t dropping out and you are not becoming homeless.”

he nods enthusiastically. “right, because i’d have you!”

“don’t you have any other friends?”

sunwoo looks you dead in the eye, his grip tightening. “i have friends, but you would have the songwriting royalties.”

“for the last time,” you groan, finally slipping your hand away from his grasp. “you’re not gonna drop out, and you’re not going to become homeless! and you’re going to make it!” you rub your hand gingerly on the side of your jacket to wipe off the excess condensation. “enjoy the strawberry milk, i’m gonna head home.”

you turn and take a few steps, only for sunwoo to call out to you again. “hey, wait.”

pausing, you look back curiously. “yeah?”

“if…” he starts slowly, staring at the milk in his hands. “when i debut,” he rescinds, meeting your eyes. “will you listen? to me, i mean—even if you’re the only one?”

“i definitely won’t be the only one,” you chide, stuffing your hands in your pockets. the night air was growing colder by the second, remnants of winter lingering in the beginnings of spring. funnily enough, you don’t really seem to mind the chill. “we’ll make it, okay? we’ll make it together.”

you attempt to leave it at that, but the way he looks back at you, sunwoo holds the question between the two of you, still waiting for your answer—like he would have waited forever for it, if he needed to. and despite your previous unfamiliarity with sunwoo in this sort of setting, you figured it would be cruel to deny him of at least an earnest answer.

“to answer your question, though.” you try to look away to break the weight of his gaze, but you find yourself pulled back to it anyway. finding the resolve to match his, you step forward again. he needed to hear this; and maybe, you needed to say it, too.

“of course i will.” tonight’s moon waxes, its light peeking through the clouds. “i’ll always be rooting for you, kim sunwoo.”

after. (yet. love is always, always, a choice.)

the first few times you see the video on your recommended page, you try to ignore it.

you shove it to the back of your mind and you tell yourself it can wait just a little longer, that there’s no difference from watching it a few days from now. except the days stretch on into weeks, and it still remains untouched, lingering forever in an endless present. the video itself isn’t anything big, objectively speaking, but the heaviness of it weighs on you every time you see the title, knowing what it consists of: special release from kim sunwoo of the boyz, self-composed track.

it’s not exactly breaking the promise you had made to him all those years ago, more like putting it on hold. and maybe it’s for the best, the waiting period, but the longer you wait, the more things just keep piling on and shoved into the shelf to collect dust over the past few months—their last single, the mini-album that followed after, and now this. you had tried, that first time chanhee had asked you about it. you couldn’t make it far before you had to turn it off.

you tell yourself you’ll get around to it when it stops hurting, a soft assurance to still keep your promise, but you know it’s hypocritical to give yourself that easing comfort when in the same breath you’ve been pressing into the bruise again and again, never giving it the time and space to heal. the pain has never stopped you before, rather, you’ve grown close with the ache, the faint memory of the wound, but there’s something distinctly different about listening to his music that hurts too much for you to continue.

maybe it’s the way it brings you back to that classroom and that swingset and everything you know you can never go back to; or maybe, despite the voicemail that you still come back to on the loneliest of nights and the wrinkled shirt that remains crumpled in the corner of your room, a part of you knows that the salt in the wound would be nothing compared to digging an even deeper, uglier wound in a cut scabbed over. that’s only what it could feel like, if you listened to him before you were ready.

you want the memories as a lingering taste alone, but you’re scared that if you go back to that promise with two feet planted and an open heart, if you delve into the memories completely, you won’t be able to come back out.

tonight is different, though.

you want to blame it on the hour that hosts the beginning of dawn, or the way you can’t go back to sleep, or the dream you’d had before you had woken up, the details fading more each second. but when the video appears once again, thumbnail ingrained into your mind, you don’t even need to look at the title before you finally click on it.

(you had dreamt of him, that night.

it was a good dream, you think, at least in the moment—more of an old memory than anything else. sunwoo had come over the night before his birthday for an early celebration, insisting on being congratulated by you first thing once the clock struck twelve. you remember it being a small celebration, just the two of you in your apartment together with cheesy decorations and balloons blown up spelling out his name and a golden ‘hbd’ strung along the walls.

the rest of it comes in and blurs together in flashes: the strawberry cake you’d bought to share together, the way you’d wiped the frosting on his nose only for him to smear a bigger chunk onto your cheek, the shoddy match that came with the cake that sunwoo couldn’t light, no matter how hard he tried to save himself from the embarrassment.

and usually when you wake up from a good dream, you fall asleep again soon after, just to catch the traces of the dream before it’s gone forever. but you’re trying, slowly in your own way, to not do things like that anymore. after all, eventually the shirt needs to become just another shirt, and your voicemail will one day go back to having no more recordings saved.

you want to think you have it in you—to let the wound finish scabbing over and heal, to finally let it fade into almost nothing but a brief mark of time in your skin.)

the music starts the second the video starts to play, and you feel a pull at your gut, an inner voice whispering. you can still back out, it says, soothing. you haven’t hit the point of no return yet. it’s okay if you’re still not ready.

but then sunwoo’s voice cuts through the noise, each word sung with his heart on his sleeve, and that part of you grasping for any form of protection left instantly goes quiet. if it were about anything else, maybe you could have rationalized it to yourself and clicked out of the video, convince yourself to go back to sleep and that it was okay to wait. another time, another day, another world.

when he sings, he sings of you, he sings to you, and you remember that you had never truly listened to the words he’d wanted to say to you since you’d sent that text that ended everything that night—not really. didn’t you owe him, then, at least this?

so you swallow hard, and you blink until lights dot the inside of your eyelids, and you listen.

(sunwoo’s lyrics talk of love, how he had wanted to be yours. he had wanted to be yours forever, and yet he ended up losing you and maybe that was his fault; maybe if he had shown you his love better then you wouldn’t have let him go, then you would still be by his side instead of appearing only when he closes his eyes, unsure to call you a dream or a nightmare. not that it mattered, you were still his universe, no matter what. even in the hurt, it was still love)

it’s all wrapped up in pretty lyricism and intricate metaphors to keep the listener guessing for the true meaning, but you’ve always understood him best when it was through song. you think you had forgotten that, after so many years together and knowing him through everything else, but with the music playing through your headphones and the screen of your computer flashing the images in the silence of your apartment, it was like coming back to your roots. like you were in that classroom with a pen and paper and that playground with the chill of spring still warm on your beating hearts and how you’ve known him intimately before you even knew you could.

it all felt so simple, back then. like budding love was all you would ever need, before everything else got in the way, but—no. you stop at the thought. that’s not quite it.

(pause, rewind, play.)

it was always simple to sunwoo. he was a star burning bright and blind to you, growing farther from your reach each passing day, but to him, you were never anything less than the universe itself. was it truly so horrible—bearing attachment to his youth? you were still growing beside him, right? you were the home he wanted to return to, weren’t you?

and yet you were the one who had smeared the paint before it could finish drying, the one who had felt so alone in watching the wear of a bridge you had deemed impossible to save. and at the end of the day, maybe the fault fell partly on both of you, stepping onto that unsteady footing together with the rope of the bridge fraying with the weight of time, but you were the one who had taken that last step to the other end without him even knowing.

lit match in your hands, you had burned that bridge for what you’d perceived to be the greater good, to destroy it before it could collapse and take both of you with it. an act of cowardice disguised as selflessness, you’re left to stare at nothing but the ashes and cinders you had set aflame. but in the wreckage, only after everything do you finally understand what that indiscernible emotion was in his eyes when he looked at you, what he had meant that night by choosing to love you.

in the silence, daylight breaks, your once dark apartment beginning to tinge a soft yellow glow.

(the ground beneath your feet steady, you look to the other end of what once was, carrying the pieces of wood in your hands. if you tried to build that bridge towards sunwoo again, panel by panel, could you rebuild something stronger from the ashes? would sunwoo help if he knew, repairing each step together with you?

you’re not afraid of finding out the answer—not anymore.)

epilogue. (love is gravity.)

the sun rises fully soon after, the sky turning into a brighter, deeper shade of blue as the hour passes. still lingering along the edge of dawn, you know if you looked outside you would see the frost beginning to melt on the blades of grass, the slow trickle of cars onto the road as people were starting to head to work. it’s subtle, the difference between five a.m. and six a.m., but it’s enough for you to feel the shift in the air.

gnawing at your lip, you reach for the phone lying on the table. it’s an aching sense of déjà vu as you unlock your phone and scroll through your contacts, searching for a single name. you can only imagine if this is what sunwoo felt like, the night he’d called you, half-hopeless as you press the phone to your ear, the first dial tone ringing.

(you want to let yourself not hurt anymore—to allow the wound to heal, to finally let go of all the shame inside of you. it’s your first step in trying to repair that bridge you had once burnt down, your first choice where you try to move forward. but sometimes, to move forward is really to move back to where you want to be, back where you belong.)

each additional ring that repeats comes with decreasing expectation, and you brace yourself for the voicemail message that will inevitably come. of course he wouldn’t pick up this early in the morning, you tell yourself, another ring echoing. you wonder if this will become a new pattern, one voicemail to another, always barely missing each other in efforts to reconcile, always a little too late. trading in one bad habit for another, maybe this was just how it was meant to be.

but you suppose it’s always been like this, ever since the night you broke up with him—how sunwoo has been choosing to love you still, even after, and how you’ve been choosing to still love him too by refusing to truly let him go, orbiting around each other like how gravity is both the reason why a planet circles a star and why they can never ever fall into one another (again). perhaps this is just where the frayed edges of fate have left you, coming together only once before your ends are split away forever.

but when the sixth ring sounds and you prepare to hear the automated message, drawing in a breath to scramble together a message to leave at the beep, you hear a single voice instead. your breath hitches.

“hello?”

your lip trembles as you press the phone harder to your ear, heat surging to the bridge of your nose, the back of your eyes. you try to keep your voice steady but it comes out watery instead, words spilling over before you know it. “hi. it’s me.”

and despite everything, gravity fails, just for an instant, and you and sunwoo collide into each other once again.

#zzoguri recs #kim sunwoo #on the floor… changed my life im afraid #your way with words… i love it so much you have no clue #thank u for changing my life

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deobis · 2 years ago

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'Cause Sunwoo, you're my Painkiller 💊

#the boyz #tbz #sunwoo #kim sunwoo #tbzinc #ultkpop #maleidolsedit #malegroupsnet #dailybg #kpopccc #kpopco #tbz gifs #eri.gifs #서누삐🐣☀️#이거김선우 #bottom left veins poppin i love a vocal king #icb one of my favorite american artists and my favorite k artist did a duet SOB

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from-izzy · 9 months ago

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show you the stars | the boyz kim sunwoo

“Why's my girl misbehaving today, hm? Shouldn’t you be nice to the birthday boy?”

pairing » the boyz kim sunwoo x fem!reader

trope/au » friends to lovers, (or should i say...) 'friends' to lovers, situationship (?), non-idol au!

genre » very suggestive!! (as compared to my other one), it's kinda fluffy uwu (everyone act surprised), a dash of angst, dom!sunwoo at times, sub!sunwoo at other times, kim sunwoo being whipped and sweet for you, but he's also flustered, he's flirting with you, reader is a bit of a tease and is confident, you're also flustered at times, sunwoo loves you and you love him (again, act surprised), finding love and comfort in each other after past relationships, kim sunwoo who just wants to be close to you

word count, estimated reading time » 5041, ~18 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » very suggestive!!, dom! and sub!sunwoo, mentions of unhealthy past relationships, a ton of kissing, making out, marking (teeth and kiss marks; reader receiving), pet names (baby boy, baby girl), reader licks cream off sunwoo, sunwoo licking cream off reader's neck and collarbones, sunwoo is physically bigger and taller, reader has medium to long hair, HIGHLY suggestive at the end, rapid proofread once

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

happy birthday to (one of) the loml 🥰

uhm...

yeah...

so!...yeah...

i'm just gonna go...

The delightful aroma of your hard work fills the volume of Sunwoo’s apartment easily. You've been chopping, stirring and sizzling ingredients for the last two hours, excited for the first birthday that you'll spend together with him.

To elaborate on your relationship with Sunwoo, you're ‘friends’. The explanation would give most people deadpanned looks, accompanied by the raised eyebrows that would follow. Otherwise, others would only facepalm at the stupidity that you both seem to obviously share. Anyone could tell that with the way that you both would drop any conversation that you're in or literally drop the paper cup in your hand whenever the other comes into even slightly just their peripheral vision, that you're more than the label that you both have decided to nonverbally settle for now.

Like your best friend from diapers would say, there's no way those kisses on the forehead, trailing down side to side across your eyelids, back medially down the slope of your nose, along the underside of your jawline, were things that ‘friends’ do. Not with the way that Sunwoo would subtly slide his palm down from the comfort of your back to cup one of your bottom cheeks, smirking when he feels the heat radiating from your cheeks.

And for you? You can't help but feel the disappointment in your chest whenever he passes the quiet but rapid breathing of your lips, whenever he bypasses that sensitive spot on your neck, sometimes whispering compliments to the shell of your eyes with that husky, low voice of well, that’s just how it is at the current moment.

Friends don’t look at each other’s orbs and are so immersed that they say “I miss you” in the most dewy, honey-dripping voice. In public where they're most disciplined, they don't hold each other’s hands while walking, a thumb smoothing over the other when they’re just walking along the empty night street or the aisle of the grocery store.

Friends don't give each other their spare apartment keys or sweep them off their feet as soon as the front door opens, distracting their worries and other thoughts by locking lips with each other. You would never let any of your other friends carry you in their arms and pull the same blanket that they will use through the night over your body. In the same way, you would never snuggle to the warmth of the person next to you, kissing them a sweet “good night” and “thank you”, the other person reciprocating those feelings.

But knowing the manipulation and tears from your past relationship, none of you could bear to address the looming label that others already gave you both. Sunwoo is too scared to ask too, going through a similar situation in his past relationship. Through the healing of the break-up that you both had in your respective lives, came the comfort that the other’s lips would give, and you both would chase that feeling from each other over and over again.

You're okay with how things are now. You respect him and you don’t want to push him or the title that you personally want to have with him. For now, you decide that actions will speak louder than words and when the right time comes, you both will address it without the influence of the outside world.

Today is just one of those days that you use your spare key to access Sunwoo’s kitchen for a little feast. The dining table is decorated with a vase of roses in the middle, and you constantly hop between the stove and the furniture to make sure everything looks presentable. The light dimming system of his house is perfect for the shooting star projector that you aim towards a blank wall. You're satisfied with all the preparation for all the main meals, making sure that the moment he walks in through the door, you can cook and plate it up swiftly while it’s still freshly pipping hot.

“Oh gosh,” proud of your efforts with the vanilla whipped cream for his cake. “I'm a genius,” you sang variations of the phrase to yourself.

Curse your horrible time management skills because the clock in front of you only reminds you that you have little time until the main key is used on the front door. The sponge cake is assembled quickly, with a thin layer of crumb coating and minimal cooling before you spread the second batch of the cream for the outer layer, topping the chocolate and strawberries afterwards.

You step back to admire your work, making sure the fruit is on the perfect slope and that the chocolate bar next to it complements the negative space around the centrepiece. Your hand under the cake was about to slip when you heard the keys rattling from outside and you swore the fridge door hated you by how you had a hard time opening it.

On the other hand, Sunwoo could smell your home-cooked meal a few doors down the hallway. His stomach only grumbles in anticipation but his heart was jumping at the thought of you greeting him behind the door. The smile on his face grew, his overgrown bangs tickling his eyelids with his rushed footsteps towards the door. The sweet scent of your perfume is what he manages to pick up first, and he doesn’t regret how he ditched work with the expectation that you would spend today’s occasion with him.

“I'm home.” Something that he has always loved to say, hating the lack of light in his house after a long day at work. His fingers were about to switch the light on but your shout stops him halfway.

Your body crashed against his before he could comprehend anything. Sunwoo groans a little at how his back hits the door behind him but his palms settle on your hips lovingly. Your arms are wrapped around his middle, face hidden to his chest, nose inhaling your favourite cologne. A deep chuckling answers your small apology, his fingers raised to tug at the hair tie around your ponytail. The elastic now wraps around his wrist as he savours the scent of your perfume and shampoo. The way Sunwoo messaged your scalp left you with goosebumps, his other hand untucking his tight shirt that you stole from your skirt so that the pad of his thumb could feel your skin better.

“Happy birthday, baby boy,” exhaling at the gentle swipes of his thumb on your waist.

“Thank you, baby girl,” trailing kisses from the top of your head to the side of your head. You tried to escape from the ticklish feeling but he kept his hold firm, keeping your lower bodies flush against each other, “Where do you think you're going?”

You giggle at his lips down the side of your face, his breaths reaching the crook of your neck as he takes comfort there. It's only now that you realise the fabric of his material, is no longer the white collared polyester. Your heated cheeks brushed against the metal around his neck and Sunwoo could feel the start of your complaints from your deep inhale.

So he closes the gap and kisses you to quiet you down.

He ignores the little muted surprised sound from you, pulling away only slightly to smirk at you before diving in deeper. His palm grips on the curve of your waist, keeping you in control. He whispers for you to pull him closer by the neck and he knows the roll of your eyes isn't an indication of annoyance. Your lips danced between his, a hand over his nape to pull him down, your other palm cupping his cheek as you tried to control his hunger for you.

“Sunwoo,” slightly out of breath, “what are you wearing?”

As if he didn't see the deadpanned look on your face when he decides to give your poor lungs a break, he leisurely answers, “This is the suit and tie of someone who decided to leave the desk early,” fingers hooking around the metal chain around his neck whilst simultaneously peering down at you with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, “so that he could look hot for his birthday and his girl.”

You couldn't deny that. Shamelessly, you let your eyes roam over the somewhat tight shirt that he has. His pectoral muscles are defined with the grey stretchy fabric and the silver accessory around him only made him all the more irresistible. Kim Sunwoo knows how to make you swoon, styling his hair lazily with his strands covering his field of view.

Sunwoo makes it known that your stare is invited, loving the attention that his special day gets him. You're looking at him so delicately that his smug confidence falters into a softer look. His lips form a straight line but the moment your eyes meet his, there’s this growing warmth that spreads throughout his chest, an emotion that spreads to you.

“Let's go eat?” With an affirmative hum and a quick peck, Sunwoo lets your body go and links a hand with yours, letting you guide him deeper into his house.

As soon as his eyes take a glance at your work, he's momentarily still. Actually, the whole idea stemmed from that time when you and Sunwoo watched a movie where the main characters wished upon the shooting stars. When you asked Sunwoo if he believed that stars held the power to grant wishes, he just smiled, clasps his hands together and shuts his eyes. The way that Sunwoo’s eyes glimmer at the projection back to you tells you that the moment wasn’t only special to you. He's always found the idea to be a bit innocent, unlike his relationship with you but the fact that you kept it in mind, and how his grip on your hand only tightens, tells everyone that Kim Sunwoo is ready for more.

He daydreams regularly kissing you awake, and how you're the last voice he would hear before falling asleep. How you'll greet him when he opens the door and kisses all over his face. How he’ll be able to spend his money spoiling you instead of only spending it on himself. How you’ll be his number one and how you’ll be his. These thoughts have roamed his head for a very long time and he used to keep it in, hiding it for the sake of not ruining whatever you two have already right now.

But with the way that you would kiss his nape as a greeting whenever he would be sitting down in front of you, or the way you would sit down on his lap and crane his neck up to meet his lips with yours. How the heated sessions would only flare up more when he sneaks his fingers around the band of your bra, and the whole intimacy that you show each other—Kim Sunwoo is undoubtedly in love with you.

Besides the intimacy, it’s the things you do for him. Namely, it’s the view of his house right now and the welcoming scent of his favourite food that you prepared for him. It’s even more precious to Sunwoo as he knows that you do this even when it isn’t a special day. You have done this whenever he would hint how much he misses you and you would show up to mend his tired heart every time. It’s not just the kisses and skin on skin. If you stopped guiding him to his designated chair and looked back at him right now, you would see that lovesick look on his face.

Sunwoo offers to clean up the space whilst you’re cooking but you quickly refuse, saying that he should take a rest, even if it’s for a while. After a few tries, Sunwoo finally listens to you, sitting down where you want him to. He takes this time to admire your decorations, snapping electronic memories of his surroundings and taking extra shots of the wall that seem so much more inviting with the video of falling lights.

His eyes are stuck there, entranced by the view. You see from across the room how he readjusts his position and closes his eyes. Your heart swells with that, keeping the view of his head down slightly as he mouths inaudible words to the stars you projected. When he opened his eyes, you diverted back to dinner, happiness evident on your face at how he appreciated your work.

While you focused on the pan, Sunwoo found a couple of metres gap between you cooking and him sitting on the dining table too far away. So, he took a seat from the kitchen island that separated you two. Soon enough, you pout at the return of the multiple camera sounds behind you, this time louder and clearer. You leave the stove, walking over and leaning over the island to snatch his phone away and Sunwoo mirrored the playful smile on your face.

“Behave,” he knew it worked like a charm when he saw you flustered. Your outreached wrist from your attempt only gets caught up with his and Sunwoo draws you in closer while he leans in to meet you in the middle.

The dim lights overhead set the mood more as they angle the shadows and highlight all the kissable parts of your face and Sunwoo swears he could kiss you all night. You watch the gulp down his throat and his stern eyes drifting to the knobs of the stovetop to turn off the fire. Kim Sunwoo is no longer playful like a minute ago. You’ll admit that he sent butterflies fluttering in your stomach but it didn’t stop the tugging on the corner of your lips. Sunwoo’s eyes widened when you decided to turn off the fire but never went back to him. He lets out an amused scoff at the way you cross your arms over your chest, leaning your back on the free tablespace next to the stove.

His eyes narrow at you, a tongue poking his inner cheek at your sudden surge of confidence, “Now,” you watch him turning his body sideways, walking to the opposite side of the island where you were before. He stays silent for a bit longer, letting you know that a question is coming; and that he wants answers to it. Copying your gesture, Sunwoo leans on the island, observing you closely, “Why's my girl misbehaving today, hm? Shouldn’t you be nice to the birthday boy?”

“You really want me to be ‘nice’?” You shake your head, finding the statement amusing, “You love it when I play with you like this. What's life without a bit of misbehaviour?”

The boy couldn’t even get a word out when you suddenly took a big step towards him. Your palms rest on the edge of the marbled top, caging his figure. You purposely lean into his chest, eyelashes subtly fluttering underneath the still yellow lamp from above. There was no longer a chance that Sunwoo could think straight anymore. Not with the way that just like before, you cradled the underside of his jawline.

However, your hold on him this time is different. It didn’t feel like you were going to pull him and have your kiss marks all over his skin like the way he would never refuse to when you asked. The confused lines between his eyebrows only deepen more when you just keep staring at him with a dazed look in his confused orbs but it’s then that he sees a glimmer of hope for the relationship that you both could share.

It may have been the light or it may have been the reflection of his own eyes or—and this is what he hopes—it’s the glimmer and stars in your eyes that you hold as you look at him at the moment. Sunwoo tries his best to understand your unspoken feelings but his train of thought is cut short when he registers the dollop of coolness on the left side of his jawline.

His breath hitches in his throat when your right hand hooks around his necklace and you latch your lips around the cream on his face. Your tongue swipes the food off his skin, alternating between kitten licks and long swipes. Your left-hand swipes the wall of the metal bowl behind him, trailing down a path that you would soon wipe clean. Sunwoo shudders, his light moan hitting your ear and his little whiny begs encourage you to keep going.

Your breath hitting his skin would normally rile him to put you in your place but all he could do with his lower back digging against the edge of the table is to clench his hands onto your mid-outer thighs to stabilise himself.

“God…” Sunwoo calls out when he opens his eyes to meet your daring ones. “You're so beautiful.”

“Enjoying this?” And he responds with a harsher grip, hands raising and starting to lift your skirt to your upper thighs.

The coolness of the cream, followed by your light alternations of sucking and kissing on his skin, and the way the air cools the area after is perfect and Sunwoo’s head tilts back in satisfaction. Too bad you wouldn't let him because you finished trailing his jawline, stealing a kiss straight to his subtle, hungry lips. The taste of vanilla and the pressure of your lips makes his head light and the room seems like it's spinning. But now, it's his turn and you know it with the way he pushes you away with all the strength he has left in him. He bends down to wrap his arm around your mid-thigh that has crescents of his nail on your skin and he sits you on the countertop and slots himself between your knees.

Sunwoo’s eyes are darker than the night outside but it doesn't fear you at all. You're now the one caged between him but unlike Sunwoo, you knew you didn't have any strength to push him away--nor did you want to. You bite your lower lips when he starts tugging your left sleeve down your shoulder to have more area to work with.

“My turn, baby girl,” metal against marble is heard next to you and Sunwoo uses his pointer and middle fingers to scoop the sweet white.

A smirk comes up his face when you grow visibly weaker for him, your posture faltering underneath his dominating presence. Sunwoo held your chin between his thumb and ring finger and applied a thin layer between your open mouth.

“Take a deep breath for me.” And you did so almost immediately.

You soon find out that a deep breath is needed as Sunwoo not only takes your breath away by covering your mouth with his own but that he multitasks to smear the food all over your neck and collarbone area. Unlike you who preferred things to be more uniform and clean, Sunwoo loves how you squirm and whimper under him with multiple senses. His fingers traced the horizontal line of your collarbones first before he came up and around the side and front of your neck less uniformly; he’s getting impatient now. You soon found out that the skin he exposed earlier wasn’t so that he could have a reason to place his tongue there, he’s just hungry for more of you, wanting to feel every part of you, just like how his tongue pushes against yours.

You find his little huffs of annoyance endearing as he mumbles about how the lack of oxygen has him pulling away from him showing his love. In reality, it was just a few seconds, but every second without you felt like a lifetime to him. He cleans the last bit of cream on his pants and he finally detaches his lips from you.

Sunwoo straightens his posture, looming dominance over your wrecked mind and half-lidded eyes. A hanging weak string of saliva still connects you both in the air for a minute and his right hand wraps around your left forearm in place. You didn’t mind his sticky fingers that started to brush the strands of your hair from the top of your nape. It’s a lovely feeling from the adrenaline he gives you but he raises your heartbeat once more when he plays with the wind to your ears, “Tasting lovely, baby girl.”

Nothing else is said as his lips dive into the sweet trail that he made for himself. Your body reacts to the sudden warmth by pulling away, but his hold on your shoulder reminds you of your place to stay where you are. The same hand reaches to drip on his elbow for mind stabilisation but your free one pushes against the broad of his back. Your legs hook around the back of his thighs to feel him indefinitely closer. It seems like the boy has learnt quickly, especially when it’s from you because just like the way you made him see the stars on the ceiling, he made you see it but with more intensity and brightness.

Sunwoo loves unpredictability over anything, even though he appreciates how you value the opposite. One of the reasons he appreciates it is because he knows what to anticipate next whenever you both feel each other, and he loves the building climax. But you, who is receiving his unpredictableness, can only curse him out whenever he tries something new on the body that he has come to be familiar with. The thrill of your groans and whines makes him feel in control and just like any other time, Sunwoo didn’t hesitate to plant something new on the curve of your neck. You sharply gasp at the way his teeth very lightly plunged into you but whimper louder at how he hollows his cheek on the area. From the corner of your eyes, you see the vein of his neck start to appear with his actions.

“You’re right.” He pulls away slightly to admire a part of him on you before diving again to properly clean your skin. “I do love you like this.”

Your lips are trembling in pleasure too much to string in proper words so you only whine to his acknowledgement. When one side of your neck is clean, he doesn’t bother keeping his touch to himself, briefly swiping anything that he can get on the way to the other side of your neck. Kim Sunwoo drives you crazy and your legs around his body tighten for another attempt to stabilise yourself.

Your jaw slacks when he bites again, this time just a tiny bit stronger as a response to your lower body. He lets you drop your head back, hand still on your nape so that he has control over the area he’s marking and maximises the pleasure that he can give. The tip of his tongue starts to alternate between the sucking and long stripes that you did to him. A satisfied chuckle hits a sensitive part around your collarbone area when Sunwoo feels his shirt further define his pectoral as you clench his fabric in your fist.

Ragged breaths along with a mixture of wet kisses are all that’s bouncing between the four walls—flushed bodies and heated skin press against the two who are afraid to love again. You’re aware of his heart pounding against his chest, knocking on yours to let him in. The closer he travels down to your chest, you’re afraid that he will feel the pounding, afraid that your hidden desires may show through and be overwhelming for him. The meaning behind your clench changes in time and your skin is now littered with a different colour because of his actions. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling and stepping back to admire his work.

Your chest raises rapidly to account for the lost air, taking advantage of the space now that he’s pulled away. Sunwoo couldn’t help the small chuckle at your pout and he wipes them away by granting you another kiss, palms resting on the edge of the table, trapping you once more. Your noses comically bumped into each other, still lightheaded from before but you enjoy the atmosphere that would always come along after the intensity you poured out to each other. Your legs relax between his figure and both your hands delicately cradle his cheeks.

The realisation strikes again: all you want is him.

Him and everything of him.

The thought of him kissing someone else churns your stomach and makes you green, even though he’s not yours. You didn’t want anyone else cupping his cheek the way you do, and you didn’t want to see anyone else next to you when you opened your eyelids to the song of the morning birds. You want to be greeted by his chest or hairline when he needed comfort the night before. You want his “I love you”s and “I’ll miss you”s even if one of you is just going to another room in the building. You want to be the person that he can always lean on for whatever and whenever. You want him to be the person that you can cry ugly to. The wishes filled your body as you wished he would kiss you like this forever with or without the title that you would love to establish.

You feel the clenching of your heart when you open your eyes with the final pull of the remnants of vanilla, greeted with the shimmering orbs that you’ve fallen in love with. Your eyes are stuck onto the smile lines around his face and he’s entranced with every single part of you, staring at you with the honey dripping from his eyes. The smile you offer him is bashful and slightly tense. Of course, he caught up to that, humming at the sight of your pretty head filled with worries. His thumb glazes upon the apple of your cheeks and you wish he didn’t just so that you could save yourself from heartbreak.

Kim Sunwoo makes you believe that love is worth it; that you’re worth it.

You wish you were more confident to tell him that.

Sunwoo leans his forehead onto yours, eyes planted on your downcasted gaze, “Hey, can I tell you what I wished for at the shooting stars?” and you could only hum back, refusing to look at him. “Can you let me be the only person to touch, hold and kiss you like that?” There was a moment of silence as Sunwoo let you register his words. When it does click, your eyes shoot up to his. A nervous chuckle is what he offers you but he doesn’t plan to take his words back. “It’s okay if you’re not ready. I’ll wait for you. But,” he swallows the anxiety down his throat, letting his face roam around your slightly confused face, “I can't stand the thought of someone else littering kisses all over you other than me.”

It’s genuine.

Kim Sunwoo’s eyes are different than any of the eyes that you once put your trust in.

It’s obvious.

“Jealous?” It was supposed to be more striking and playful but it turned out to be more tiring and insecure.

Again, he caught up to it and decided to carry on the narrative of your words with a careful tone, “You’d be fine with other girls running their tongues all over my face?”

The mention of your past actions started the multiple offences to his chest and the poor boy loves the flustered look on your face, complaints flying out of your mouth. In this moment when you both indulge in the comfortable relationship that you share, your posture relaxes and your hands rest on your laps. Shortly, Sunwoo joins his own there, fingers intertwining between yours and just like how he soothes the heaviness that you hold internally, his thumbs swipe across the back of your hand.

“If you do, I won’t let you off easily, Kim Sunwoo.”

You hope that he realises the real implication behind the words. Sunwoo’s brain buffered a little bit but soon enough, the straight line shape of his lips raised into something more. Along with it, his naturally mischievous personality also raised his eyebrows. “That’s my girl.”

You couldn’t help the giggle at how his face flushed red after, bashful at the effect you had on him. Your fingers brush along the ends of his hair that seems to get in the way of his eyes.

“You should cut them or something.”

“I look hot like this though.”

“You always look hot.”

And there comes little shy Kim Sunwoo once more.

“I-Instead of flirting with me, why don't you grant my other wish instead?”

“Oh yeah?” You lean back on the table, hands behind you for support, “I granted you your wish, shouldn’t you grant mine first before you ask for another one?”

“How about I grant them both at the same time?”

“You don’t even know what I want.”

True.

As much as Kim Sunwoo has been paying attention to you, you’ve always been the girl to never fully express what they want despite the encouragement from your loved ones that they will always stand beside you no matter what. An idea brews in his head when you lean back and he catches the glimpse of the white rays shooting out from the sky behind you. You know with the way that his tongue swipes along his bottom lip, mouth slightly agape that he’s up to no good.

His hand leaves the marble you’re on, drawing closer to the side of your thigh to your waist. Innocently, he displays his big, round eyes to you and his actions contradict them heavily. A few of his fingers slip past not only the waistband of your skirt but also the fabric underneath it. You thought he would stop his ministrations there but his other hand traces the same path on the other side of your body, this time however even though his hand did not go under the underband, the clip behind clicks open.

“You can’t wish for anything until I show you the stars."

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

tags (send a dm/ask if you would like to be here or removed!): @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @sanaxo-o

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from-m-izzy · 4 months ago

Text

here | the boyz kim sunwoo

“Oh my God,” you mutter at the wind grazing against your back.

pairing » the boyz kim sunwoo x fem!reader

trope/au » friends with benefits au!, non-established relationship au!, non-idol au!, implied college/university au!

genre » 18+ ONLY; MDNI PLEASE! 🔞 fluff...? (some of sunwoo's gestures for you can be seen in that way), ...sunwoo is kinda in love to be honest

word count; estimated reading time » 2540; ~10 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » public sex (hotel balcony) and mentions of past public sex, dom!sunwoo, sub!reader, dirty talk and praising (sunwoo to reader), orgasm denial (sunwoo to reader), multiple rounds (two written, allusions to more), kissing and marking (both), pet names (baby girl, baby boy, slut, brat), sunwoo calling reader pretty and beautiful, sunwoo implied to be physically bigger and taller, sunwoo carries the reader, rough sex, swearing, begging (reader to sunwoo), nudity (both), fingering (sunwoo to reader), boob play (sunwoo to reader), sunwoo holds reader's wrists down at the end, mentions of masturbation (sunwoo about reader), creampie

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

thank you for hyping and helping me with this one @hursheys @mosviqu 😭

The moment the electric lock flashed green on the booked hotel room, clothes were flung and skin to skin were made before skin to fresh fabric. Kim Sunwoo smirks at your neediness for him, the way his finger smoothly glides along your folds confirming the fact even more. As always, he always knows how to rile you up, especially with the amount of orgasms he's taken away from you in the past hour.

"Stay still," a husky groan behind you reminded, "pretty little girl."

You whimpered at the pet name, your back arching, palm full of the sheets and chest fluttering at the wet kisses trailing down your spine. Sunwoo’s arm that was around your waist pulled you up to sit against the broad of his chest. His heating skin only intensifies the need around your body, your thighs shaking at the rubbing around your clit. Now practically sitting on his hard length, the new position was able to brush a deep place that had never been touched. The slightest movement occurred from his hip and the boy smirks at how you rest your head against his shoulder.

"That's it, baby girl," licking the side of your neck. His teeth nibble on your skin, the same teasing way he flicks and ghosts over your defined nipples and kneads your boobs in his hands. "Louder," he presses on as he grows harder inside of you.

"S-Sunwoo-" Your words were taken out, replaced by the heaving of breaths and moans filling the hotel room. "Let me ride you. I need you so bad.” The idea is cunning to him and he couldn't help but hiss at the mental image of being able to fully see the way you would take him, eyes locked to his as you only increase the pleasure for you both.

"What's the magic word?"

"Please, pretty boy. Let me ride y-"

Turns out Sunwoo is more impatient than you are and you feel the way his length hardens more inside your gummy loosening walls, stretching and knocking on the very first stages of your orgasm. Sunwoo flips to change his position, laying gracefully over the bed with you hovering above him, but unfortunately for you, the slight moment when he needs to pull out to get into position makes you frown.

He chuckles, "Don't be so disappointed. You like my cock so much that you just want me in you all day. That's why you call me every single time, don't you?" Your attempt to take a breath halts halfway when you realise that Sunwoo doesn’t align his member to your hole, instead making your poor clit grind against the top parts of his needy, veiny length. "A-Ah..." He rocks your swollen clit against himself, satisfyingly bringing you up and down, his tip disappearing behind your folds and reappearing again gloriously.

Your lower body is starting to shake again and your hands leveraged for his abs, nails slightly digging into his skin. It only urged Sunwoo to grind further, pressing your hips down to him as he started to enter you slightly but pulled out before hitting your spot.

"P-Please, fuck me properly." You're out of your mind at how he plays you, half-hooded eyes staring at him in the low lighting of the room. His mischievous smile shows that he will stop playing with you, but not too soon. Desperate for release, you start to retaliate a bit, going against the guidance of his grip to keep him snug inside you. A smack lands on one of your ass cheeks and the impact makes you moan. It only gets worse for you when he completely stops matching your neediness, keeping your hips in place and taking your building orgasm once more.

Cries and pleas fill his ears. "Stop being a brat," demanding and strong even though his eyes tell you otherwise; if only your eyes were opened. "I'll give you what you want so be a good girl and take whatever I give you. Be patient." You were half-listening, your nods stuttering along with your lower body that starts to shake in anticipation. Your head hangs low, moaning louder and nails engraved to his abdomen.

Until he completely raises his upper body from the mattress.

“W-What are you doing…?" Craving the pleasure he skillfully gives and smacking his chest in frustration. Your legs instinctively wrap around his pelvic area when he completely stands from the bed, clinging onto him as your energy slowly but surely runs out at the relentless rounds that have been going on between him and you.

Sunwoo gives a fake emphatic pout, puckering his lips for a kiss instead. He brushes his lips wherever he can, chuckling at how contrasting the top part of your body is displaying soft love but how the lower part of your body is still connected, your cum dripping along his length as he holds completely still. It’s hard for him to not thrust, but he loves keeping you on edge just for a bit longer. He kisses your tears away and the soft treatment he's giving you makes you forget of your throbbing need only for a split second as he tends to you in a different way. You close your eyes to feel his tongue swirling yours. The need to feel every part of him is evident, your arms wrapped around his neck tell him your desperateness and Sunwoo caresses your waist.

"That's for not calling me for so fucking long," he breathes out. "I was starting to get upset that you haven't called me for a while. Am I a joke to you?

Teeth clash, nose nudging and the way you run out of breath faster than ever makes Sunwoo snicker. "You were being annoying," you bite back. "Fucking me in random places whenever you wanted to."

Your face heats up as you remember the way Sunwoo would wiggle his eyebrows each time, a tongue poking on the inner side of his cheek before he took you to ride him for the first time in the unisex toilet, the front and backseats of his car, his bedroom with the door open and his parents just downstairs, in your house against the window, in the dressing room of a store where he ended up buying the dress he ripped off you, in the empty lecture room at university (let’s hope the recording system wasn’t on), or even fingering you during your lecture (you’re thankful the content is recorded). All those places he moulded his length into you, breaking you apart and putting you back with searing kisses each time. His controlling nature excites you, that's why you haven't been able to call him. You secretly hoped he would go even wilder if you didn't.

Driving to your house, putting you on your shoulder and driving to the nearest hotel that he has booked has gotten to be the least public sex you've had; or so you thought. Sunwoo’s act of cradling your soft skin against his body while he opens the curtain and clicks the balcony door open has become the most public and thrilling thing you’ve ever done. You immediately knew that if other visitors (or even the passersby as you weren’t too far from the ground) were to look anywhere towards your side, they would be able to see you and Sunwoo in intimate detail.

“Oh my God,” you mutter at the wind grazing against your back.

“You want to do it out here?” Suggesting a little show for everyone. “I can give the walkers a show if I bend you over, I guess,” he shrugs. “But I need to see you as I cum inside because it’s the best seeing you fall apart for me.”

Sunwoo feels the way you start to pool at that, and he thrusts slightly after you throb at his length. The whimpers against his neck from his baby girl rile him, especially with how you're clinging onto him and grinding against his chiselled front. Sunwoo taps on the side of your thigh, a motion telling you to land back on the ground. He wastes no time, cupping a hand around your mouth while his index lays vertically against his lips, winking at you. Your hands immediately fly to the wooden railing behind you and Sunwoo takes this as a time to blanket his hand over yours before slowly testing and setting a comfortable, stable rhythm.

“H-Here?” The wind messed up Sunwoo’s hair, and his overgrown bangs only made it hard for you to even set eyes on his orbs; but fuck did he look all the more attractive.

‘Here,” he affirms as a corner of his lip rises, smug and confident. “Shh,” he hushed. “Taking me like a good girl?” Chuckling at your rapid nods, “Or like a dirty little slut?”

Crocked, broken moans could still be heard behind his palm when you finally met his lust-filled eyes. You tried to distract yourself from the thrill of someone walking over to the balcony and catching you but you couldn’t help but grow louder when you looked down at Sunwoo’s veiny length entering you, slowly pulling out and pushing in twice as fast. High-pitched squeals match each time he hits you where you’re most needed.

“Is that how good I feel?” Raising an eyebrow, impressed at how you were able to nod. “My pretty baby girl taking me so well either way.”

As much as you’re pushing him closer and closer to painting your walls white, he needs more stimulation. Whether stimulation is given to him or he gives it to you to drive you insane, it doesn’t matter, but Sunwoo has always been one to spoil you. He takes his hand away from your mouth and immediately the volume, moans, whines, groans and pleas you let out are already pushing him one step closer. He increases his pace, skin slapping on each other and leaning over to you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. This decreases the distance between you and him more, and your tender clit gets more attention and love.

“I-I’m so close…” You etched out between broken sobs.

His eyes shut tight, nodding at your words. “You can do it.” It’s the first time he’s permitted you to completely let go. His thumbs brush over your knuckles, reassuring you that he’s close too and would love you to finish first; he loves spoiling you first before himself. “Come on,” pushing himself faster, “Let go for me,” harder, “Don’t worry, it won’t be your first.”

On cue, the image of him not letting you take a break is the trigger to you cumming, Sunwoo still pulsing around you as you did so. The boy hisses at the throbbing motions as you refuse to let go of his cock, tightly wrapping him around you. His hands tightly grip your wrist, the other pulling you still at the final drag he takes inside you as he empties all of him into you, twitching against your pulsing walls.

You feel the way he fills you up, chest stuttering and out of breath. Both your eyes widen when he moves again, needy groans filling your ears. “Sunwoo…” He shakes his head, shutting you up with a searing wet kiss. He plays his tongue around yours, drowning all your noises.

“Not yet,” he heaves. Not when he hasn’t fucked his girl in so long. The amount of times he’s jerked himself off to the thought of you, the way you cry for him and the way that his dick is only satisfied with you are the only things that he replayed in his head every night, moaning your name with furrowed eyebrows.

He retreats inside, sitting on the bed and adjusting his lying position as you sit on him once more. This angle pushes you to your second orgasm, creeping up slowly but surely. Your tightly shut eyes make you appreciate how deep he is as he starts to pound up against you.

His eyes gazed at your glistening folds and pulsing pussy. "See?" He leans and observes your lacked jaw. "In the end, you don't care where I fuck you," chuckling when you meet his thrust halfway. Your muscle shaping for him makes your hole shake, wetting his length and making it easier for him to slide further. "You just care about me," a thrust up, "and the way that I fuck you wherever you want to," another thrust, "and I guess," an eyebrow raises as he prepares his next move, "whenever I want to fuck you."

Sunwoo gets you ready for another release, teasing your sensitive bud by rubbing, flicking and pinching your folds as he pounds into you. This is the first time he's seen your expression from below, and the image is so much better than seeing you under him. In the end, he's just a boy who wants to see how you can move yourself to match his thrust. His dick only hardens with the fact that you're so fucked out that you're unable to fully grind against him.

"F-Fuck me..." Chest heaving at his control. "O-Oh-" He found it. The place that makes you fold for him every time. Your grip flies to his shoulder, eye contact never faltering other than when your eyes shut at the tears rolling down your cheek. Sunwoo aims there each time and you let out choked screams at the building pleasure. "S-Shit.” The stimulation makes the sex easier, eyes widening at the intense pleasure.

"Shit," he smirks at your tightly shut eyes, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "Don't hurt yourself, baby girl," cupping your cheek and pulling your bottom lip. "Let me hear you," Sunwoo increased the pace of his hips and swirls your tender clit, and you had no choice but to follow his orders. "You're so fucked out and beautiful."

You whine at his words, squeals bouncing around the room when Sunwoo tugs on your nipple with his teeth. He fondles every part of you with intense want, intense need. The added attention is when your lower body starts to tense and relax uncontrollably, gushing out the startings of your liquid and the smacks of your body becoming louder and more accurate each second. Your neck falls, and screams hit the ceiling.

He hums against the valley between your breasts, "Does my sweet girl want to cum again?"

"Yes!"

His hand cups your jaw, directing your pleading gaze to his similar ones. "Can she promise me that she'll contact me more and won't deprive me of this sweet pussy?"

"Yes!"

Despite the need, he knows your words hold truth. "I'm gonna cum inside you. Need your body to remember a part of me."

You don't object to that as he pulls you to another kiss, muffling and taking your moans down his throat. It's not long before your body swallows his second load inside, overflowing onto the sheets that he for sure would love to take home; maybe even replacing his as he jerks off to your scent. Your body falls slack after but Sunwoo doesn't pull out again. Your walls pulsate around him and it's when you realise that he's not getting any softer inside of you.

You realised the implications of that, "Fuck-"

You’re flipped against the mattress in a clean sweep, head now comfortably deep into the pillow and Sunwoo re-enters as soon as you hit the bed. "You've been ignoring my calls for too long and I’m way too deprived of you right now," Both wrists are pinned under his open palms, "And this dick needs some more love from his home, baby girl."

navi/masterlist!! 🤍

tags: @deoboyznet 📢❤️ @k-labels 💙🤍 @k-films 🤎🎞️ @kflixnet 📺🍿 @starlit-network 🌌⭐

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