#or maybe summer just was not right vibe to appreciate it

[ethan-elliott]

okay I take back what I said when it came out, Death or Glory (the album) has really grown on me

[mirawhat]

am i dead? no. do i kinda wish i was? sure.

idk if its because of playing ffxiv(*), or because of adhd(***) or because of poor time management or because i live alone and have to do all the chores all the time all alone, but i do not understand what should i do ti have time for everything i want to do. i have so little obligations outside of 9hr work day but i just dont have time!!! for basic things!!!!!! and i hate this

[hoshifighting]

Hello, may request smut reaction from Seventeen watching their s/o(reader) wearing a sun dress??

Seventeen reaction to you using a sundress

a/n: aww so lovely, I loved this request <3

Seungcheol

 you know, Seungcheol thinks summer is the absolute best time of the year, and it’s all because of your sundresses. the moment you step out in one, he can’t help but grin like a kid on Christmas morning. It’s like the sun gets a little brighter, and his energy just skyrockets. he’ll tell you, “you know, I’m pretty sure your sundresses make summer even better!” with a playful wink that makes you blush.

Jeonghan

when you wear a sundress around Jeonghan, he just can’t stay quiet. It’s like you’ve put on some magical pheromone perfume, and he’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame. he’ll sidle up to you, whispering, “you really know how to make it impossible for me to stay away, don’t you?” and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your ear, making your heart race.

Joshua

 will spend the whole day showering you with compliments, loving how you get all shy with each one. “u look absolutely stunning in that dress,” he’ll say, his eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. he can’t get enough of seeing you blush, and you can’t help but smile at his sweet words.

Junhui

 when you step out of the closet in your sundress, Junhui turns as red as a tomato. he can’t stop staring, completely mesmerized by how pretty you look. “you’re so beautiful,” he manages to say, and his blush is so contagious that you find yourself giggling and blushing along with him.

Hoshi

 sees you in your sundress and immediately rushes to change his shirt. he wants to find something that matches perfectly with your outfit. “we’ve got to look good together, right?” he says with a big, goofy grin.

Wonwoo

Wonwoo wants to see every angle of your sundress. “Give me a twirl,” he says, his eyes lighting up as you spin around. “Absolutely gorgeous.” He’s not one for many words, but the way he looks at you says it all.

Woozi

 Woozi’s mind races, thinking about how he could write a song about you and that sundress – just like ruby. the way the light hits you, the soft fabric, the summer vibe—it’s all so inspiring. “you look amazing,” he says, his eyes thoughtful. “I think I’ve got an idea for a new song…”

Minghao

 Minghao appreciates every detail of your dress—the tone, the cloth, the pattern, and especially how it fits you so perfectly. “this dress was made for you,” he says, examining the way it moves. his appreciation for beauty is evident in his admiring gaze.

Mingyu

 Mingyu grabs his camera the moment he sees you. “hold still,” he says, leading you to a spot with flowers and dappled sunlight. he takes countless photos, capturing your every smile and twirl. “you’re my muse,” he says, showing you the stunning shots.

Seokmin

 Seokmin always treats you like a princess, but when you wear that sundress, he takes it up a notch. “don’t lift a finger,” he insists, carrying everything for you. his protectiveness is sweet, and he constantly checks to make sure you’re comfortable and happy.

Seungkwan

there’s something about that sundress that stirs something new in Seungkwan. “you look... incredible,” he says, his voice soft with awe. he compliments how the skirt flows and how the straps sit perfectly on your shoulders, his eyes filled with admiration.

Vernon

 Vernon doesn’t say much at first, just a quiet “wow” under his breath. But later, maybe the next day, he mentions it casually. “that dress looked really good on you yesterday,” he says, his words simple but sincere. you know he means it from the way he says it.

Chan

 Chan is so impressed by how you look in that sundress that he immediately starts searching online for more. “I’ve got to get you more of these,” he says, excited. “you look amazing.” It’s clear he’s found his new favorite look for you. 

[sugaryplum]

𓏲⋆. THEODORE NOTT FICS HALL OF FAME 𓈒 ⭒ ݁ .

so this summer marks a year since i started obsessing over this stupid stupid handsome beautiful amazing of a character and it is actually insane. i always used to have phases for different characters and it changed like every two weeks but for the past year it's been him and him only. embarrassing. but well – i've read a lot of amazing pieces of fiction about him so here i am to give some appreciation! these are my favourites with top notch writing and plot and portrayal of the character and everything else!!! in no particular order

spring breaks loose by @fangisms GOD i love her work!! she also wrote darling socialite which is possibly even more amazing (and i actually requested it hehe and i love it so much)

next we have @cassiopeiasdaughter (this is really just a list of my favourite authors here) with mirrorball (requested by me again, this is also maybe just a list of stuff i requested, i am shameless with this) and this cute little drabble about theo and the reader's cat <3

honestly i could just write everything i said before about everything that's coming next. i looove when @veryberryjelly does these events and here's my favourite one of these!!

this is smut and i feel weird recommending something smutty but its a really really well written thing so you need to read it if you like this type of thing

so i don't normally like to read series but i loooooved kiss with a fist by @theostrophywife!!! (sorry i can't find the og masterlist post in my likes to link it but you'll find it)

@patrophthia has some amaaaazing fics! love is sour grapes and take you to the basics and these plot bunnies and genuinely anything else by her! there's i think this fic set in the summer that i can't remember the name of. and the one based on "bewitched" by laufey! so good! and my favourite way of writing theo's character like ever

laughs in the courtyard is the cutest ever and i think one of the first fics i've read about theo?

these headcanons are straight out of my dreams!! often reread them just to have him more visualised in my head and some parts feel literally straight out of my brain

so i don't read angst almost at all, i like sweet and nice and happy things but moonlight & masks as well as mio, both in kind of the same vibe i just adore! i guess war angst i don't mind. especially when it's so good!

now this is kind of toxic and manipulative theo but i loooove control freak<3 i linked part two but obviously start with the first. both awesome

and last by not least @artytaeh is probably my favourite author here right now!! this masterlist has no misses only hits <3 you gotta read it all right now. again, this portrayal of theo and everything else is just perfect

okay thank youuuuuu for reading and i hope you read everything on this list because it's all fantastic! bye bye kiss kiss goodnight

[namazunomegami]

Mélange

Pairing: Okkotsu Yuta x gn!reader

Synopsis: Sometimes humans are not above animals. Sometimes they burn to fulfill the same basic needs and not strive for more in the moment. A full belly, safety, procreation. What happens when all three of them need to be satisfied? Tinged with spice. Under the influence of an unknown substance.

CW: aphrodisiac, dubcon, slight somnophilia, feral and animalistic Yuta, he has cannibalistic thoughts, licking, lovebites, scratching, biting, slight pain, handjob, premature ejaculation, fingering, Reader can feel Yuta’s ring during fingering, slight dacryphilia if you squint, implied multiple rounds, porn with feelings, good old unprotected sex + creampie, both Reader and Yuta are ultra possessive in their own toxic way <33

WC: 3.6k

Credits: my dearest @notveryrussian for proofreading this mess and doing a bit of rework on the tenses <33 the cannibalcore pics are from pinterest

Song rec: needles and pins by deftones and gibson girl by ethel cain both give a nice vibe to the fic as we slowly transition from Yuta's POV to Reader's POV

A/N: Can't believe I'm posting my first one shot here 🥹 After so many unsuccessful attempts to wrap up multichaptered fics, at least, this one messy smut got finished. My first ever finished fic 🥹 And the first to get completed in a relatively short time. Yes, a week is a short time for me. And happy holidays to y’all, this is gonna be the last fic in this year so expect only shitposts from me from now on lmao.

Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

Minors do not interact or else I'm gonna go apeshit, also a seperate warning for heavy dark content as usual. If there's anything mentioned in the tags that you're not comfortable with, this is not your fic.

Many sorcerers envy the title of special grade. Yuta thinks these people deserve a separate Naraka in Hell. They don’t realize the immense responsibility, they can’t fathom the challenges, the danger of the missions. The threat those curses pose. They only care about the power he carries.

During today’s mission, Yuta realized he’s not entirely an unstoppable force. Even someone like him is weak to certain fighting styles, he can’t counter everything with his wide range of copied techniques. This curse’s grade was well deserved. Whenever the katana slashed deep into it’s skin, a strange kind of gas was emitted from the wounds. Though he eventually exorcised the curse, he did breathe in the weird, sweet-smelling substance. The scent was hard to resist, it felt like the perfect mixture of all his favorite smells, inviting and comforting. However, he trusted his body to withstand the temptation, reinforced to near perfection with cursed energy and the usage of reversed cursed technique.

There was no problem until he finished reporting back to the higher ups and was on the way home. Maybe it was just the fatigue, the late summer heat, the humidity of the night but something made him feel weird. Almost sick. A thin veil of sweat glistened on his skin, his cheeks, ears and upper body were flushed. His chest was heaving, a burning, aching sensation tormented him between his legs, throbbing with a synced rhythm to his heartbeat. All his thoughts narrowed down to one single, inherently primal thing. A need. A hunger.

Shame and confusion swelled inside his chest. How can he lose his composure? How can he want it so badly? If he wasn’t so wired for monogamy, he would have fucked anyone who moved. And with every passing minute the feeling was getting worse. Descending slowly to the brink of madness. Hell, he was close to wheezing and growling like a rabid dog. He already had no patience to find the right key to the door. He could break that shit, he definitely could. He had no idea why, but he could stop himself from doing that. Maybe the insane price to get it fixed.

But the comfort of his home isn’t helping him. He can’t calm down, he can’t unwind. On the contrary, everything intensifies the strange urge in him to act territorial. But it’s only natural when he grew up feeling like he didn’t have anything he could call his own, whether it’s a material possession or a person. Every comprehensible thought vanished from his head. Leaving only the instincts. The need to claim. He immediately goes to the bedroom, not even bothering to have a quick shower or a light meal.

He gazes at your sleeping form, unknowing and peaceful. Innocent and vulnerable like a newborn lamb and he’s… he wouldn’t compare himself to a wolf, he’s a more vicious predator than that, all starved and keen on capturing its prey. Your limbs are thrown in every direction on the mattress, a thin, silk blanket barely concealing your body, but you’re hugging a some of it to your chest. Like you’re missing him, finding solace in the way the material is touching you. The windows are wide open, hoping that the night air can cool you down.

Yuta caught himself almost drooling at the sight. He can’t stop himself, he can’t fight the shameless thoughts plaguing him. The need, the want is stronger than what he deems right in the moment. His steps are quiet, that part of the floor that normally creaks is now completely silent. He looms over you, like a sinful, ungodly spirit, your very own kanashibari that’s bound to you. His weight is pressing down on the mattress ever so slightly, caging your form between his arms. He breathes in the smell of your freshly showered skin. A mixture of heady vanilla, milk and honey. He mindlessly licks a stripe up your thigh, wanting to taste you, to bite you, to tear out a big chunk of your flesh with his teeth to satisfy this torturous hunger he feels for you. More than anything he wants to devour you. Completely. Have you all for himself. The thought alone makes his dick so hard it’s outright painful.

He ascends towards your hips, leaving soft yet wet kisses that make you twitch in your sleep. Yuta swears that he’s more sensitive to all stimuli, his senses are working at their maximum capacity. He’s able to feel every morsel, every particle of you. The soft peach fuzz, the bumps, the ridges of your stretch marks, their pearl-like glistening texture flowing on the surface of your skin like a river. The material of your shorts, loose and thin, he can feel the seams on the band of your underwear through the fabric. Where the bones bend, where flesh folds. Your smell. Not just from the shower gel and the laundry detergent but your natural scent, so strong he believes it’s some kind of weird pheromone that’s driving him wild. To the point he almost considers nudging his nose between your legs, just like dogs do when they smell blood there.

Maybe it’s not entirely wrong to claim you this way. He can spare you from this more primal side of him, you won’t get to see it and despise him for it. It’s enough if he deals with the shame alone, self-deprecation is his ultimate talent afterall. But that can wait until after he finished soothing this excruciating itch. Because now the last remnant of his resolve goes out the window.

He pulls up your shirt all the way up to your chest. His shirt to be exact. It makes his heart flutter, a piece of him enveloping you, makes the boundaries between your sense of selves blend and blur. The thought of you using his stuff as your own feels so right, so promising.

He practically glues his face to the expanse of your stomach. The flesh is so soft between his teeth, feels so good to bite on it, so easy to suck on it until the skin turns a deep purple.

And maybe… maybe he can lower his crotch onto your knees. Just a little. Just for a little friction…

You stir, opening your eyes slowly, tiredness and confusion are still heavy on your expression. And then you feel teeth nipping at your stomach, fingers digging into the dips of your hips firmly, some wetness here and there along your leg.

Your first response is fear.

You start to squirm and fuss, kicking your legs up in the air, not even thinking about who’s doing this to you until Yuta grips your shoulders and pushes you back into the sheets, keeping you still by the weight of his own body, shushing you. You can feel his nails penetrating the skin, branding the crescent Moon itself into your flesh.

“It’s me, don’t panic.”

You’d recognize this voice anywhere, but you blinked a few times just to clear your vision. The striking white of his coat is easy to spot, even in the dimly lit darkness of the room.

“Yuta…?”

Your voice is an ode, a blessing. Even when it’s hoarse and faint after waking up. He bends down and kisses your temple, nuzzling into your hairline, breathing in your scent. His body feels oddly warm, almost overly so, radiating through you. Through your spine, to the very center of your being and that’s when you notice that you’re a little bit… hot and bothered. What has he done to you while you were asleep?

“I’m so sorry…” he whispers an apology. But his voice is just… it’s like his mind is not entirely here. Something is hurting him and he’s trying to conceal it. Barely. You can hear his voice is hitched from the deep breath he takes, in a futile affort to calm himself. “Have you been sleeping for long?”

He asks you for the sake of it, there’s no genuine interest behind it. Even if you were sleeping for hours, it wouldn’t stop him. He couldn’t stop. He genuinely feels like he’ll die if he can’t get it out of his system. He snuggles his face into the crook of your neck, listening to the rhythm of life coursing through your veins. The thought of puncturing your jugular with his teeth is so irresistible. He must do it… It’ll drive him insane if he won’t.

“N-not really.” your answer is weak, all your strength is used to move your arm freely, trying to locate your phone on the bedside table. The light coming from the screen almost blinds you as you’re checking the time. “I went to bed about… half an hour ago.”

He dips his fingers right into the hollow dips between your ribs, he kneads the skin in a way that has his nails slightly scratching you. And then you realize that you’re almost entirely topless.

He traps your earlobe with his teeth, sucking on the soft tissue.

“Y-Yuta…” your voice is more reprimanding that you want it to be. But your patience is starting to run thin. You want to know what the fuck is wrong with him, he never did anything like this before. Even if he’s horny as hell he would ask for your permission because that’s the way he is.

Instead of giving you an answer he bites your neck. Hard. It hurts, it makes you yelp. Shit, that’s gonna leave a mark. And he growls, just like a wild animal.

You squirm, you jolt, trying to get away from the source of your pain with a prolonged hiss. Only one hand of his is enough to stop you from fussing while the other fondles your chest. Your nipple is caught between his fingers, he twists it slightly. You can’t see it getting red, hard and swollen. His moves are awkward and tactless, but somehow they help with soothing the sharp pain in your neck. Your tensed body eases up a little.

He kicks the inner side of your knee with his own, creating a little space in between them, then forces your legs apart with one smooth movement. As he tries to settle right under your core, you feel him brushing the apex of your thigh.

He’s so painfully hard.

You’re sure he can read the instinctual reactions of your body. The rush of adrenaline, your pulse, how your heart is almost breaking your ribs with every beat. You’re getting more and more aware of your surroundings because you have no idea what will happen to you. He pins your wrists down on the bed. He doesn’t want you to escape.

What has gotten into him? Where’s your shy and gentle man, your sweet little angel? The one who needs so much guidance, who gets so awkward about his lack of experience compared to you. The one you need to encourage to talk about what he likes since you won’t judge him for it. Well, angels shouldn’t be benevolent and sweet, right? They’re the soldiers of god after all. And the depth of his psyche is still very much a mystery to you…

“I don’t want to hurt you… I just need you.”

He has no control over his own thoughts, everything on his mind gets blabbered out. Not just that he needs you, but that he wants to fuck you (he rarely uses that word so you’re even more baffled), that he wants to eat you up, bite for bite, digest you so nobody else can have you.

It sounds devoted yet utterly terrifying.

“You’re-“

He’s scary. Well, you knew this prior to crawling into his life. What people thought about him, one rumor more unhinged than the other and you have no idea how much truth there was to them. Everyone has some sort of admiration, respect for him or repulsion of him. You just tend to forget sometimes, how malicious his cursed energy feels, how his eyes never reflect the light, looking outright dead. But it’s all so contradictory to his personality… you know that you’re dear to him, he’s willing to risk everything for his friends, he’s so starved for connection, to carve himself a place within people’s hearts. You blamed the whole phenomenon on Rika. And you took pride in yourself, for taming a monster.

“I feel so…” he suspires, trying his best to contain himself. “… weird.”

And he’s a kind monster indeed, even now, controlling his impulses as he humps your thigh like a feral dog.

“I don’t know if I’m able to hold back, so I need to know….”

His voice is desperate, almost a plea. He’s afraid of himself too. With the last bit of his sanity, he wants to make sure that it’s alright for you, whatever he has in store for you.

You don’t protest.

His lips crash into yours in a violent, hungry kiss. Your teeth clang together, he shoves his entire tongue in your mouth. He grabs the hem of your shorts, peeling off anything that covers you below the waist. You hear the fabric tear. It’s the same with his own clothes too, in a few blinks of your eyes he’s already stark naked.

He takes your hand, pulls it towards him, you can feel him in your palm. So hot, hard and swollen to the touch. He closes your fingers around him and his hips start moving back and forth, fucking himself into your grip. You smear the precum along his length with your fingertips, squeezing lightly when you feel the base. It has him moaning, breathily, more vocal than he usually is. He’s so sensitive, his pace quickens and his voice is thinner, almost like a whimper.

And he groans. Unexpectedly. It bursts deep from his throat. You feel his cum pooling in your palm. Though you may be surprised, you don’t make a big deal about it. You search for tissues on the bedside table to clean your hand like nothing happened.

“Feelin’ okay?”

Your voice is calming, tender, it warms his heart but the mere sight of his cum on your hand makes the blood rush to his dick again.

You sit up to caress his face. You open your mouth to question him, but he won’t let you start your aftercare routine.

“It’s… not enough.”

He grabs your thigh, hooking your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access to your naked core. Your back falls onto the mattress again.

“I’ll take care of you.”

It’s a promise, you’re sure of it.

His fingertips sink into your folds, relief ripples through him when he finds them already wet. He goes all out on you, his thumb circles your clit and two fingers dip in at your entrance, waiting to loosen you up so they can be pushed inside. His nails gently caress your inner thigh, it’s a tickling sensation, goosebumps dot your skin, a sigh dies on your lips. Treating it as a sign, his fingers start stretching your walls. They curl and curl inside you to the point of the cold band of his ring touching your folds, your essence soiling the stainless metal. The symbol of the haunting spirit of his first love. Childish love that it is, unserious, all just a game. The promises… the word forever holds no weight. Or maybe it does but they have no idea how hard it is to maintain those vows.

Can you ever compare to Rika in his eyes? Have the same effect over him? You don’t dare to talk about it just yet. No, the nature of your relationship is not the same. Childhood love is not like adult love, you just want some reassurance. You want to feel important.

And your reassurance is soaking that wretched finger with your juices. Make that wretched ring yours. He spreads his fingers inside you, scissoring you apart, eagerly working to prepare you. You’re holding onto the sheets and the pillows desperately, your body feels so volatile you might as well float away.

When he pulls out you feel hollow, incomplete. But he won’t keep you waiting long. The head of his cock feels like salvation. Scorching hot and wet with the mixed arousal. And he completes you with one smooth thrust. You’re whole, fulfilled, a merged existence worth suffering over. He’s throbbing deep within your walls, pulsating through your nerves. You can’t tell if the noise coming out of him is a moan, a whine, or a growl, you only know that it’s bordering on bestial. Filled with need, an ache, coupled with something beyond your comprehension.

He drills into you, there’s so much strength and resilience in him, it almost makes you scared. But something else also swells inside your chest. An unknown kind of excitement, a thrill, it makes you feverish, wired. The dissonance between his absolutely feral state and the fact that he’d never hurt you. Or maybe he would, in a way that you’d like it. Nobody could bite through your throat with such force that your windpipe breaks, only him, him and no one else.

He holds you at the back of your pelvic bone, lifts you up in an utterly perfect angle. You mewl him that it feels so good, so perfect, so raw. You love this feeling so much. You get completely lost and immersed in it.

“…it?”

His voice is faint yet his broken self-worth shines through it. Poor soul… You didn’t pay attention to his most important desire. He’s a parasite living off of your kind words, but nothing can make him as blissful as knowing you love him, despite everything he despises about himself. And you’ll feed him. Prove it to him that he matters more than the things he does to you.

“Oh Yuta, my sweet…” the rest of the sentence gets stuck in your throat as you open your arms and he crashes into your embrace like a lost, lonely puppy. You hug him tightly, brushing through his locks with a free hand. The sweat makes the strands stick together. “Of course I love you, don’t be silly.”

He might as well have been a puppy in his previous life. And now your words eased his guilt about his temporary condition. He gained your forgiveness.

What he does next is much more instinctual. He folds you in half, where your knees bend, is pressed right against his traps, your heels graze the middle of his back. Now his thrusts have weight, uncovering spots that even you had no idea that existed inside of you. Tears of joy prickle in your eyes, calling upon whatever deity’s name you can think of, off the top of your head. You can swear his pace increases at the sight. It’s so intense a broken cry erupts from your throat.

He thrusts right into a sweet spot, which has you melting and trembling. Please is the only word your lips can form. At this point, you couldn’t care less about the lewd sounds of your skin slapping together or the squelching noises that make the whole act sloppy, shameless and primal, you only want to reach  your peak, and you’re not far from it as you’re clenching around him with a rhythm that you have no control over.

It crashes, it ruptures, sudden, sharp and hot like an electric spark. A scream empties your lungs, but Yuta muffles it with sealing his mouth onto yours. You feel yourself getting filled as you’re convulsing around his length.

After he fucks you through your orgasm you feel yourself shaking, your whole body is limp, numb, drifting slowly to sleep. You’re both soaked in sweat, your bodies stick together but there’s a need to bond further in each other’s embrace. You plant a kiss between his locks, praising him, telling him you love him. Satisfaction clouds your mind, like a soft, pillowy pink mist.

However, his cock is still not soft.

“I have no idea what has gotten into you.” you tell him, marveling, as you’re still catching on your breath. “I like it though, but you owe me an explanation.”

He handles you gently, like you’re some precious thing, made from glass, fragile. Your body is like a ragdoll’s, he has you lying on your stomach, lazily, flatly, you might as well fuse together with the mattress. Calloused fingers are drawing nonfigurative shapes on your shoulder blades.

“I’ll tell you right after we finish.”

Your blood runs cold for a moment.

“Again? Yuta, for the love of god I’m exhausted.” you whine.

He apologetically kisses your spine.

“Just this one, okay? Please? I’ll do all the work, I’ll make it quick. You only need to relax, you can sleep even.”

You want to tell him that sounds a little bit creepy, but you don’t have the strength to talk. He kisses the two shallow dimples right above your tailbone. His gaze lingers on your folds, admiring how red and swollen you are.

“If you manage to make me cum again, you deserve a fucking award.” you comment, face nuzzled into the pillow, your voice is obviously snarky.

You can feel teeth sinking into the flesh of your asscheek. The mark that is burning on your neck found it’s pair. He presses down your overly sensitive clit with his thumb, balancing the pain out with pleasure. But it gets overstimulated so easily, you feel the need to bite the pillow.

You brace yourself with a deep breath through your nose. You’re going to pay him back next time, you promise yourself that you’ll make a begging, crying mess out of him, and the thought makes you chuckle.

[navybrat817]

Where We Left Off

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You're in love with your best friend who is determined to make the most of your vacation together. Word Count: Over 1.2k Warnings: Light angst, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), future fun, Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) A/N: New AU called Reconnect because why not? Meet Dreamboat and Butterfly. For @the-slumberparty 's June's Monthly Challenge : Bikini and Beach, and Smut Hub Summer Camp Bingo @sagechanoafterdark: Choose Your Vibes: Summer. Thank you @flordeamatista for the inspiration and pre-reading! ❤️ Any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

It was a couple of summers ago when you realized you were in love with Bucky Barnes. When you looked back on your friendship, you wondered how it took you so long to realize it. Like how his smile made your heart race whenever he looked your way. Or how you found a solid ground and safe space together, each of you able to confide in the other.

He made you feel safe.

"You're my best friend."

Nothing more.

You stared out the living room window with a sigh, the beach house blanketed by the heavy sound of rain. While it had been bright and sunny just minutes ago, the sky was now dark and misty. You shivered as you wrapped your towel tighter around your wet body, enchanted by the summer storm instead of going to your room to change. It figured you'd buy a new swimsuit for the trip and only get to wear it outside for a minute.

"So much for lounging on the beach."

You smiled softly as you glanced at Bucky beside you, who ran a hand through his long, soaked hair. He hadn't bothered to keep his towel after the two of you rushed back inside, clad in just his blue trunks that matched the shade of his eyes. You scolded yourself for letting your gaze roam along his sun kissed, muscular body.

You didn't have the right to look at him that way.

"Yeah. So much for that," you said, the towel doing little to keep you warm as the air conditioner kicked on. "Maybe our punishment for getting started without everyone?"

Steve, another one of Bucky's best friends, put together a weeklong trip for the gang. So far, you and Bucky were the only two at the beach house. Everyone else wasn't going to be there until the evening. That was why you went for an immediate swim once you picked your room. The storm would likely put the group behind even more and now you were stuck inside with Bucky.

Why had you agreed to show up early?

Why did you have to be alone with him?

Why do I have to love him?

"Maybe," he said with a stretch, drawing attention to his wide chest. "Since it doesn't look like it's slowing down at all, why don't we cuddle on the couch? Catch up a bit?"

"Cuddle?" you scoffed, the sound more bitter than you intended as you turned to face him. "Why would we do that?"

A flicker of hurt passed over his eyes before he blinked it away. "Well, for one, you're cold. I can practically hear your teeth chattering," he replied. He wasn't a fan of being cold either, but he always ran warm. "And two, cuddling never bothered you before."

Your stomach flip-flopped. Bucky was right. He was the only male friend you ever snuggled with. Whenever you had a bad day, he didn't hesitate to throw a heavy arm around you and pull you against his chest. On good days, he found an excuse to keep you plastered by his side. He used to do it so often that most people assumed you were dating.

Wishful thinking.

"I'm sorry," you said, giving him the nicest smile you could manage even though it hurt to do so. "Been awhile since it was just the two of us and even longer than that since we cuddled."

The day it clicked that you saw Bucky as more than a friend was the day he introduced you to Dolores. Everyone called her Dot. The beautiful redhead looked good on his arm and you wondered why it wasn't you in her place. But you put on a brave face and smiled, even as your heart shattered. Because Bucky's happiness meant more than your feelings.

It didn't stop you from crying alone in the darkness where no one else could see.

"That's my fault," he whispered, sliding his fingers into his hair again and tugging harshly on the strands. You noticed he did that when he was upset. "And I'm sorry."

"Friendship goes both ways," you pointed out.

"You never faded out of my life when you dated anyone."

They weren't you, Bucky.

"I guess she was different," you smiled sadly.

The two of you still hung out and messaged each other while he dated Dot, but it was always as a group and the daily messages dwindled to chats here and there. You had the feeling that Dot didn't like you very much. In a way, you didn't fault her for that. Maybe she saw through you and knew you wanted Bucky.

Yet he was the one who broke up with her.

"You're allowed to be mad at me," he said as he took your hand and crossed the room to the couch. "I'd be mad at me."

"Right now, I'm just cold," you said, not wanting to dwell on the past. What good would it do?

He nodded slowly, almost like he was disappointed in your response. "Okay."

You shrieked when he pulled the towel away. It wasn't like he hadn't seen you minutes before in your bikini and you swore his gaze lingered on you long enough to consider it staring, but what was he doing? "What the hell?" you asked, but made no move to cover yourself.

Maybe I want him to see that I'm desirable.

Bucky let out a breath as he looked at you, your shivering having nothing to do with the cold. "You said you were cold, so let me warm you up," he urged, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch before he took a seat. "Please?"

Silence fell over you as you sat down beside him. He wasted no time putting the blanket over you and wrapping his arms around your shaking frame. You breathed in his familiar scent and found yourself fighting off tears, a bittersweet swirl of longing and comfort settling in your chest.

Because he embraced you as if you meant something to him.

"I missed you," he whispered, running a hand along your back.

Your heart clenched, focusing on the rain falling outside in a melancholy rhythm. "I missed you, too."

"But we have each other again."

"I wish that were true," you whispered.

Why did I say that?

His hand stilled, but you were too afraid to look at him. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Panic bubbled in your chest. You couldn't just blurt out your feelings like this. "I just mean you went from a constant to a fleeting moment in my life," you said, which was the truth. "I don't want things to fizzle after we leave."

Bucky used to be the brightest star in your sky. Then he became the shooting star you missed making a wish upon. But you would forever watch the sky if only to get a glimpse of his bright light.

"I'll make it up to you. I have this whole week to start," he promised, rubbing his chin along the top of your head. "I don't care what Steve has planned. I'm all yours."

You squeezed your eyes shut because you knew you'd cry if you didn't. He wasn't yours. Not really.

"I'm yours, too, Bucky."

I always will be.

Surely Bucky will sweep us off our feet, right? Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[sohnric]

to. my first – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x fem! reader

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

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

word count: 31k

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

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

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

August 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first time getting drunk

April 1999

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deserved, Sunwoo thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look grumpy.”

“I’m just worried,” you note.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Okay.”

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

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

to. my first detention

September 1999

Sunwoo was never the one to break the rules. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir, I really–”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I can join!! i could use some froyo

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

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

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

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

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

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

weirdo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he shrugs. 

He did not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…maybe his sister was right. 

Maybe the bracelet had a deeper intention.

August 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first dance

November 1999

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

Maybe you’re right. Maybe he should go. 

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first date

January 2000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It won’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 2007

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

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

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

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

Not at all. Why would anyone even think that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, is it any good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna bet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first kiss

March 2000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he should start hanging out with Eric less.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what? Just forget–”

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

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

“Yeah,” he agrees.

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You know you can kiss back, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was it that ba–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything specific?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you have more time now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That bad?” Sunwoo asks empathetically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, as if–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first girlfriend

May 2000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first lover

August 2000

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

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

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

“Is everything alright?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did!” you nod, grinning back.

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

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

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

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

“You don’t seem excited,” you argue.

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

“What is it?” 

“What is what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you. 

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

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

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

to. my first love

September 2000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was just scared to hear your voice. Terribly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

September 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A sign that… that maybe we weren’t meant to be,” he hums, shrugging. “It sounds stupid, really, but…” he trails off, cutting himself off in the middle of the sentence.

Something about his confession makes you feel a bit lighter. Your shoulders feel like there’s no longer anything weighing them down. It’s not like you waited for an explanation all those years and when you finally got one, something in you shifted into a more comfortable position.

“For me, back then, you were the right person, wrong time. And I didn’t want to let you go, I really didn’t, it’s just… everything was already so hard and the world seemed to put so many obstacles in my way of contacting you, that I thought it was the universe telling me to drop it and let you go. So you could… so you could find someone else, I guess…” he finishes explaining. He averts his gaze from you, pointing it towards the empty field, as if scared to see your reaction to his blabbering. He takes another few sips of his cider, snickering. “It wasn’t fair of me to want you to wait for me either.”

So you could find someone else… You think back to all the times you went on dates after you concluded that your relationship with Sunwoo was over. You try to remember their faces, their mannerisms in such detail that you could only make up one of your previous lovers– the one sitting next to you right now– and you chuckle at your foolishness. Remembering how you kept comparing every new person in your life to the one that stole your heart first, remembering how you thought about him late at night, wondering where he is right now and how he’s doing. You used to look through the sports parts of newspapers, looking for his name somewhere, looking for his team name, but never seeing a glance of how he was doing. You wore the stupid friendship bracelet he gave you in your junior year around in New York, having people point it out and ask about it, all until it broke off by itself  one day and you reluctantly said goodbye to the sentiment. 

You dated around after losing contact with Sunwoo. You don’t really think you found someone else, though. 

“I wanted to wait for you, though,” you say, shuffling closer to the male on the bench, voice sincere. “It was my decision.”

“Well,” he chuckles, “life had other plans for us two.”

His sentence makes you think. A few days ago, it would make you sad. Embarrassed, even. Life had other plans for you two and they didn’t align with what you two have calculated during the summer break after your senior year. Sunwoo didn’t become a star. His football career never took off. He finished his degree and came back home, bitter and heartbroken. 

Your plans ended just as fast as you came up with them. Not going to university after high school, you were left with nothing to do. When the opportunity to take an internship for a news company in New York came to you so suddenly, you took it without thinking, trying to find your place in the big world ahead of you. You had no plan, but you think that maybe, some part of you wanted to get away from your hometown all along. You wanted to do big things, make everyone proud. Being a news anchor wasn’t even something you dreamed of when you were little, so you guess you weren't supposed to really feel that let down, but the defeat still stings.

Or, at least, it used to. You find that the failure doesn’t hurt as much anymore. 

Looking at the male next to you, you think you know the reason why. “It’s okay,” you say, shrugging, “we figured it out anyways, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” Sunwoo sighs, looking at you with a soft smile playing with his lips. “I guess we did.”

The sound of cicadas hits your ears when you two fall into a comfortable silence. Healing old wounds was surely one of the items on your check list when you came back home, but you didn’t expect to get over things so quickly. You don’t think you would have been able to get over everything alone, though– and this makes you twice as grateful to still have Sunwoo by your side. A sense of nostalgia takes over you at the fact, but this time, it hits you with more fondness than longing for the old times.

“Remember how young we were? It’s like I still see you chasing the ball around the field when I focus hard enough,” you say, pointing ahead of you.

Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head at your antics. “Yeah. I almost see you leading the cheer practice in the back there,” he points, “in your cute cheer uniform, with the ridiculous pom poms in your hands–”

“Hey, don’t call them ridiculous,” you gasp, “they were my favorite part of the whole routine!”

“Oh, I could tell,” he laughs, poking fun at you. 

“Well, you must have liked the pom poms enough to stare at me during practice all the time,” you shrug, teasing the male back. The fact that Sunwoo had a crush on you long before you reciprocated the feelings wasn’t something you two explicitly talked about before, but you always deemed as clear as day. Or, at least, it was to everyone back then.

“I did not–” he gasps, making you gently shove him with your elbow.

“Come on, everybody used to say you had a crush on me back then,” you hum, “you were pretty obvious with it too.”

“You knew?” he looks at you, eyes big and surprised. Gears clearly running in his head, he tries to piece the information together, running through the memories now so distant, but still so clear.

“Girls always know,” you point out, shrugging. You take another sip of your cider, licking your lips after and speaking up again, tone of voice almost confidential. “I just acted like I didn’t. But then I realized I liked you back, so I was trying everything in my power to make you confess to me first. Which… took you long enough, young man,” you giggle, seeing the male shake his head at you in disapproval.

“You could’ve confessed first, if you were so confident,” he mutters, obviously a little gutted by the revelation.

“That would be below my level,” you nod, pressing your lips together into a straight line, “besides, it was fun watching you act all cute and clueless.”

“Don’t call me cute and clueless–”

“That’s what you were, though! Like the time when you got super drunk on your birthday and begged me not to leave–”

“I didn’t even like you back then!”

“Sure you didn’t.”

“I was in denial,” he furrows his brows theatrically, putting the empty glass bottle to the grass, “but I see that you had a lot of fun watching me suffer.”

“Fine, pretty boy,” you say, catching a glimpse of the boy momentarily shying away, presumably at the endearing nickname, his cheeks tinting pink even in the faint moonlight. “Would it make you feel better if I confessed first this time?”

“Huh?” the boy asks, lips parted, eyes a big, honest pool of honey.

Cute and clueless, you think.

The story comes full circle when you realize that this football field is perhaps what started it all. This is where you ran up to the new addition to the team, saying that your favorite number was on the back of his jersey. As the leader of the cheerleading team, you took it as your job to make every newbie feel welcomed– no matter if they were a fellow cheerleader or a football player. You didn’t expect for the boy to never stop wearing the number– although it was your favorite, it didn’t seem to be so important back then. (One day, you learned that Sunwoo kept the number on his jersey even after moving abroad. You read it in one of the sports magazines you foolishly flipped through in every kiosk you encountered and almost teared up in the busy store after.) 

This field is where you watched him play football every week. It’s where you both practiced, sending each other funny faces after the coach was mean to either of you for not being focused on your training. 

This is where Sunwoo found his passion– where he found his dream. This is the place that shifted the next couple of years of your life towards all sorts of directions. This is where he kissed you after winning a match, a gleeful confession slipping past his lips. This is where your relationship started, and metaphorically, also ended. The field that kept you apart is now a thousand miles away, but the one that brought you together is now right in front of you.

You guess it’s only right to use it for new beginnings.

“I think… I think I’m still in love with you, Sunwoo,” you start slowly, playing with your fingers in your lap, “well, I don’t know if my feelings for you ever ended… they could’ve, I mean, we were apart for so long… I just… all I know is that I don’t want us to be apart anymore, and I–”

Your words die on your tongue when the boy cuts you off with a kiss, the taste of apple cider mixing on your lips. The way he kisses you didn’t really change even after so many years, still swaying you with the familiarity of his loving. Still, even though you know the way he angles your jaw, the way he presses against you, the way he takes his sweet time, truly showing you how much he enjoys the act, you never grow tired of it. Something in you reacts the same way as when you were young. There’s still excitement, there’s still tender softness in your heart every time you kiss him.

His lips break apart from yours, a playful tint in his words when he speaks to you again. “Don’t try to take credit for it now,” he says, “because the last time I checked, we never really broke up in the first place, so you could say we were dating all along, all because I confessed back in–”

“God, you’re unbelievable,” you grunt.

“But you love me,” the boy says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is.

“Always have,” you say, pressing a quick peck to his plush lips, “always will.”

The starlight glazes your cheekbones when you rest your forehead against his, as if to send him a telepathic message that is worth more than a thousand words. It’s hard to find the words to explain the mixture of your emotions right now, but when your memory washes up the encouraging monologue Sunwoo offered to you when you first arrived, you finally agree with his sentiment. Perhaps, one word could summarize it all– you feel truly content. 

They say you never forget about your first love. At 25 and still counting, you guess you could say that’s true.

[seventeenpins]

bloom

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: part three of bad girl. you decide to go out on a tinder date. joel gets jealous.

warnings: joel is an asshole, stepcest, infidelity, oral sex, somnophilia (mentioned) unsafe piv, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, smidge of role reversal (really just two stubborn people being stubborn), multiple orgasms, romance almost????, joel is sad and lost and possibly in love but mainly just wants to be wanted (but is bad at talking about real things), maybe not edited as much as it ought to be--pls tell me if there are any glaring issues you notice

a/n: finally finally actually got this finished weeks after i was certain i'd be posting. thanks to @livingdeadmaria for the jealousy angle. kinda gets away from itself, but i hope very much that you enjoy. i can't begin to express how much i appreciate your thoughtful messages and comments and interactions 💕

these past few weeks had gone by in a blur and you're hyperaware of how quickly the time is passing. joel had been taking good care of you, fucking you pretty much any time your mom was out of the house, and a couple times when she wasn't.

after casually mentioning how you'd love for him to make you feel good every minute of the day, he had laughed.

"doubt you'd want me makin' ya feel good if you're not even awake to enjoy it," he'd said.

"are you kidding me? waking up to you playing with me sounds like a dream," you told him, and he stilled, swallowing deeply.

your mom would pass out heavily after a night of drinking, and when her snores started in earnest, joel would sneak into your room, lock the door, and wake you up by dragging a palm over your tits, pinching at your nipples, rubbing a finger along your pussy, all the while telling you how good you're doin', that you taste so fuckin' sweet, god you're a fuckin angel when you're sleepin', and the one that you heard him say right as you woke up with his fingers deep in your cunt and a hand on your breast, already all worked up, and you came instantly; "you'd better hush that goddamn mouth or i'll hush it for you, baby, you gotta be quiet for daddy or your momma might wake up and then daddy won't be able to make you feel good like this-"

so no, you weren't unsatisfied with your sex life. in fact, you were more than satisfied.

it scared the hell out of you.

you were waiting, you realised, for shit to hit the fan. for joel to get bored with you. to get too busy. to come to his senses.

and, after all, the summer would be over soon, and you'll be back to your usual life. getting absolutely railed by your stepdad didn't exactly seem like something that was sustainable, long-term.

the two of you had never defined this, but you decided you needed a palate cleanser. something that'd catapult you back into the real world. if you ended up with a disappointing hookup, so be it. most hookups were, and the pornographically cinematic sex you were having with joel couldn't last forever. hell, you expected him to file for divorce any day now, and the likelihood of having any kind of relationship after he'd gone for good seemed very low indeed.

and so you decided that it was unhealthy to focus on only one person, especially when monogamy had never suited you, and the one person just so happened to be your stepdad.

you'd never deleted tinder but you couldn't remember the last time you'd opened the app. at this point, you'd convinced yourself you kept it because you thought of it as a kind of sociological study -- you endured because it meant you got to examine the extremes of human behavior and it was absolutely fucking fascinating.

so you scrolled aimlessly, appreciating the change in the pool of people that was your hometown, but quickly cursing yourself when you saw that a former student teacher of yours had just super liked you. horrifying.

you stared at your phone screen--swiping left on almost everyone, adjusting your filters to include ages 25-50, and feeling wholeheartedly disappointed at what tinder had to offer--until one face popped up. you'd almost swiped left by default, but stopped yourself just in time.

it's your old high school boyfriend, connor. not your first. not your last. but the most serious you'd had throughout high school, and definitively one of the best sexual experiences you'd had before your twenties. you'd ended things on good terms before you each went off to college.

his entire profile, you decide, is an assortment of green flags containing exactly what you need; looking for short term fun. social drinker and 420 friendly.

he's got a couple of goofy pictures, but he's aged well in the past decade, and you'd be down to find out if he's as good a lay as you remember. no possibility of falling in love; you're both only in town for the summer, nor are you looking for anything long-term. and, you add on to your mental list of reasons, he was never a creep, nor a murderer, and though that's a very low bar it's still nice to clear it. you can work with this. you swipe right and it's a match!

your mom has a girls weekend planned that you think might actually involve her and her friends, and joel told you he'll be out all weekend for his brother's bachelor party, so that's when you decide to set your date. it's nice to have the option to bring a guy back home and not have to worry about any awkward situations.

it's a friday night and you are all dolled up. your dress is tight, your tits look amazing, and the bar is lively. tonight is clearly the night to be out. there's a celebration going on in the corner with an incredibly drunk birthday girl scream-singing along to the music. pool tables packed. a group of men loudly complaining about the friend they're waiting for who's always late.

it doesn't take you long to spot connor. he's there, looking surprisingly good, leaning against the bar. a flash of dazzling white greets you when he catches your eye, grinning.

"hey," connor calls over to you, "it's been a minute! you look great!"

he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and looks you up and down, eyes sweeping over the spill of your cleavage and cinch of your curves. you know you look good, and he knows it too.

"wasn't sure if this was still your drink," he tells you, passing you a mojito, "but this is for you."

"i can't believe you remembered!" you tell him--mojitos used to be your favorite-- "i usually go for something less sweet these days, but i still love em. thank you."

you take a sip and watch as he takes a big gulp of his beer. the condensation on the bottle drips down his thumb, a drop of moisture hanging on for a moment before falling. his arms are nicer than you remember, veins drawn in beautiful patterns, muscles tensing at seemingly the slightest movement.

yeah, you could fuck him.

he offers you a questioning half smile and you realise you've really just been staring at him, not sure how long for. "didn't realise how hot you'd gotten," you tell him, and he cracks up. any uncomfortable tension dissolves, and you relax into it. you're almost able to forget about joel miller.

you're having a great night. one drink turns to three and before you know it, you're on the dance floor, enjoying the sensation of connor's hands all over you--holding your waist, brushing your cheek, groping at your ass as you grind together, both of you hot and sweaty and feeling wonderful. you turn your face to connor and kiss him, hot and passionate, running your tongue along his perfect teeth. it's... nice. he lets out a little whimper, which you like, but where joel would've leaned in deeper, cupped your face, tangled his hands in your hair and growled into your mouth in response, connor pulls back and practically giggles. "you're so sexy, baby," he says, and that's all fine and good, but it's not as exciting as you'd hoped. it just feels bland.

but you've made the effort to come out, and you're not gonna give up just yet.

you kiss him again, trying to will a bit of passion into the exchange, but all of a sudden he's shoved aside by some asshole barrelling past and he's nearly knocked over.

"hey what the fuck!" connor shouts, and the person who shoved into him stops. turns to you both.

before you see his face, you know it's him. broad shoulders and a muscled back. patchy beard. great forearms. and his jaw is set in the most beautiful scowl you've ever seen.

"joel-" you gasp.

this wasn't part of the plan. why the fuck is he here?

then you notice the group of somewhat rowdy men in the corner, right in the direction he was heading. one of them calls over in his direction, and he holds up a finger before turning back to you.

this must be his brother's bachelor party.

connor looks between the two of you. "you know this guy?" he asks, and you nod. he turns to joel. "you need to watch where you're walking, man."

a muscle in joel's clenched jaw ticks as he stares him down, and connor takes a tiny step back.

"connor," you say, "this is, uh, this is joel. my stepdad. joel, this is connor."

"oh," connor says, "well, just be more careful next time. nice to meet you, man. joel."

he extends a hand, which joel blatantly ignores as he fixes you with a gaze.

"best be gettin' home, sweetheart," he says, tone colder than you've ever heard it before. you swear you can see a vein in his forehead pulsing. "it's getting late."

you raise your eyebrows. is he... mad? and if so, is this the best he can do? "joel, it's a friday night. i'm having a good time, and i'm gonna keep having a good time."

he stares you down.

"that alright?" you ask, a challenge.

he grits his teeth again and nods sharply, hissing out a fine, throwing one last glare at connor before he walks away rigidly.

connor frowns at you and you shrug, but you glance over at joel, watching him retreat.

now that you know he's here, at this bar, it's almost impossible not to keep looking over at him.

he looks strangely awkward over there, like he's trying to appear relaxed but is following a relaxation guide written by aliens. he's rigid. uncomfortable. a man clasps him on the shoulder (his brother?) and doubles over in a laugh, which he seems to join half-heartedly. you can see how he's holding his beer with a white-knuckled grasp. his shoulders have relaxed a little, but in a way that looks intentional. you're not sure if anyone else would notice, but you've watched joel a lot these past few weeks. you can see it. you don't know what that means.

as connor tells you all about his work, you catch joel looking at you, too. there are a few times your eyes meet and something would flash between you. if connor noticed that you were distracted, he didn't show it.

you're a few more drinks in, loose and warm, getting quite cosy, when connor's phone starts to buzz. he glances the name on the caller id and his eyes go wide. "i'm so sorry," he tells you, points at his phone, "a friend of mine's going through a hard time--i need to get this. excuse me a minute?"

"of course!" you tell him, and watch him head outside for some quiet.

it takes less than two minutes before you feel joel sidle up beside you. you know it's him before you even turn to look.

"hi, joel," you say, and he grunts in response.

you're silent for a moment.

"so," you try again, "you wanna tell me why you look like you've been chewing a lemon?"

he frowns. "huh?"

"sour," you supply.

he rolls his eyes.

"don't like seein ya with that boy."

"oh really?" you ask, "and how is that any of your business? has he offended you in some way?"

he shrugs. "just don't like it."

"i'm gonna try again, joel. what's your fuckin problem?"

he huffs out a breath. "a fuckin' kid like that's just tryin' to get his dick wet."

"i should hope so," you scoff, "that's kinda the point."

"seriously?" his voice drops to a lower register, "am i not takin' good enough care of you?"

"no, joel, it's not-"

he cuts you off, "hush, girl-" and despite the quiet of his words, now you notice the slight slur to them. "cos how i remember it," he tells you, "just a day ago you were cryin' my name, ridin' my cock."

you feel your face heat, but he keeps going- "would you let that boy fuck you raw? huh?" he doesn't even give you a chance to respond. "guess you really do take after your momma, huh? mother's a whore and her daughter is too."

"fuck you joel-"

"worst mistake of my fuckin' life getting mixed up with all this shit- with you-"

rage surges through you, shoving aside any embarrassment you felt earlier, and before you can stop yourself, you slap joel across the face.

the impact breaks something that's been building and you both reel back, deflated. you stare at each other for a moment in shock and silence. the place your hand made contact with him starts to bloom blotchy red.

joel rubs his jaw with his palm and winces. "okay, i deserved that," he huffs.

you soften just a little, "you did deserve that."

"i shouldn't be talkin' to ya like that," he groans, chastened, "not your fault. i've had too much to drink, i think. gonna stick with water the rest of the night."

"can we call a truce for tonight?" you ask. connor could be back any moment now and you aren't gonna do any of this in front of him. but as unreasonable as joel's being, you don't wanna hurt him. your anger has all but dissolved and you just want peace.

"sure," he says, "truce."

you smile, half-hearted.

"so, big bachelor party, huh?" you ask, nodding at his group still in the corner.

"hah," he breathes, "yeah. can't believe my little brother's gettin' married."

"which one is he?"

joel points. "over there. the one in th' button-down, currently double fistin' his beer."

you roll your eyes. "no wonder you're so fucked up. must run in the family," you say pointedly, and he knows he's not off the hook for his earlier jibe.

a pause.

"so, who is this guy?" he asks, and he notices you tense. "no, no, i'm not gonna- be more of an asshole."

"good."

"so?"

"his name is connor. we dated back in high school. just seemed like a safe option for a hookup. no strings, any of that."

joel hums. grimaces. "seems a bit young for you, hmm? you seem to like your men old and grey, not bright eyed and bushy tailed."

you snort and roll your eyes, "oh, fuck off."

the moment falls between you.

"look, joel. i don't know what- this is between us." you gesture between the two of you, "like, it's not... sustainable. i know that. you're married to my fuckin' mom, and that's not even touching our age gap."

he sighs. "yeah. i know."

"so, what is it you want? from me? from this?"

he huffs out a breath. "truth is, i don't know," he admits.

"well, you sure as fuck had better figure it out

"he finds out his wife's cheating on him, he fucks her daughter-"

"hey, don' say it like that-"

"-and then gets jealous at the thought of her daughter fucking someone else."

"hey now-"

"am i wrong?"

silence. an awkward cough.

"no," he concedes, "you're not wrong. and i don't know what this is, but i do know what i want."

"and what's that?"

"you."

you stare at one another. he leans towards you, his voice gravelly, barely above a whisper.

"i want you to forget all about that boy. i wanna make you feel good, as much as i can for as long as i can. i wanna make you come on my tongue, and my fingers, and my cock. i wanna hear you scream my name-"

your breath hitches and you can almost taste the whiskey on his warm breath as it tickles your cheek. joel's hand is gripping your arm now and the grip is a comfort.

of course, that's the exact moment connor reappears.

"hey, there, sorry it took so long! really glad i picked up-"

you and joel pull back, and mostly manage to pull off looking casually friendly, but connor misreads it entirely and looks between the two of you.

and then he turns on joel.

"get off her ass, old man," he hisses, "she's an adult, and you're not even her dad! she can stay out if she wants to!"

joel stares at him, wide-eyed, startled as hell, and you do your best to stifle a laugh at the idea of joel being your actual dad. yikes.

"it's okay babe," you reach out to connor, patting his arm to soothe him. "joel and i were just catching up. is your friend okay?"

his eyes dart between you before he tries to catch up. recalibrate.

"uh, yeah-" he says, "yeah he was having a hard time but i think he's doing better now."

another glance to joel. back to you.

"so, uh-" he ventures, tentative, "do you wanna get out of here?"

if it hadn't been for joel turning up at this bar, you'd say yes in a heartbeat.

but you know for a damn fact that isn't gonna happen now.

"ah shit, connor, i'm sorry. i'm feeling a bit off tonight, and i think i should call it an early night."

"oh."

"i'm really sorry, it really was nice to see you."

connor sighs, nods, and then flashes you one last dazzling smile.

"you too," he says, and leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "take care of yourself, yeah? and if you ever wanna meet up again, just let me know."

you nod and watch as he walks away.

it's only a moment later that you feel joel's hand snake around your waist and hold you close to him. it's familiar and lovely, the callouses that trace across your skin.

'i think," you tell him, "you should tell your group you're heading out soon."

he looks over at the group and one of them waves at him with a confused expression on his face.

"and then i want you to meet me in the bathroom. single stall at the end of the hallway. don't make me wait more than ten minutes."

joel's mouth goes very dry very quickly, and he nods almost too eagerly. his pupils are blown and you can't get enough of the bead of sweat that rolls from his temple.

"good boy," you tell him and he gulps. turns away from you and back to his group.

you walk towards the bathrooms and catch his gaze and a brief nod as you walk by him.

you feel exhilarated. goosebumps prickle up and down your arms and your stomach flips in an excited swoop. you've inadvertently just swapped roles. you didn't tend to take the lead, at least not in this way. if anything, you tended to beg, please daddy, please fuck me.

after you close the bathroom door behind you, you take a moment to collect yourself. you adjust your hair, smooth out your dress, and wait.

a few minutes pass, and then--a knock at the door. three gentle raps; a rhythm you know so well.

you open the door, grab him by the collar, and pull him in.

he practically squeaks as he's pulled through, but then you're pressing him against the door and he melts under you. he lets out a long, throaty groan as your tongue drags along his jaw, your hands slapping his out of the way as you undo the buttons of his shirt and rake your nails down his chest.

"gonna put your money where your mouth is?" you ask. his brow furrows. "gonna make me feel good, daddy?"

"yes-" he moans and devours your mouth in a kiss. pulls away, breathless, "what do you want, baby, tell me--"

"mouth. and fingers."

"god yes-"

before you have a moment to react, he hikes the skirt of your dress up and backs you up against the sink. "get on up, baby," he says, and you do, hopping up onto the sink with your skirt around your waist and your panties on full display, damp and translucent with your slick. you lean back against the mirror and joel grabs at your thighs, spreading them wider apart.

when he sees how wet you are, he lets out a strangled moan. "jesus christ, honey-" he says, and drags his forefinger along your slit, through your panties, "you're gonna fuckin' kill me."

then he looks at you with those dark, beautiful eyes. searches your face. then drops to his knees.

he starts by mouthing against your panties, just his lips at first, but then he starts to lick and suck at you, sucking your slick from the fabric.

"cute panties," he tells you, and then he's got his fingers hooked on the waistband and pulls them down and off you, helping to lift your hips.

then, when they're off, he wraps them around his hand, buries his nose into his fist and inhales deeply.

"fucking hell, joel-" you breathe, and he turns a little pink, grinning sheepishly. fuckin' joel miller sniffing your panties. how is it that that's the hottest thing you've ever seen?

he doesn't liger too long, though. before you know it, his big hands are grabbing at your thighs again, holding you open. then he's tracing a fingertip along your cunt. prodding in, just a little. pushing your folds open and looking at how messy you already are. sloppily scissoring his fingers, opening you up

"needy little thing, huh?" joel asks and you nod.

leaving his fingers inside, he pulls the hood of your clit back with his thumb and leans in to kitten lick it. it leaves you writhing, but the grip of his other hand on your thigh helps keep you in place. he pulls back, just a little, and spits on your pussy. rubs it in with the thumb, giving you the most lovely pressure, extra slick exactly where you need it.

pumps gently, leaning back in to start licking you in earnest. after a few lazy pumps, he hooks his fingers in you and starts pressing into you with more speed, more urgency.

he pulls back for only a moment and you can see that his moustache and his bottom lip are glistening with your slick. he opens his mouth to praise you, telling you those perfect sounds you're makin' are drivin' me crazy, honey, love how you let daddy know just how good he's makin ya feel, that's it, don't hold back-

and suddenly you're coming.

despite the dullness from the alcohol, and the fact that you're propped up on a sink and just realising your back is smashed up against an uncomfortable knobby faucet--despite all that--waves of pleasure surge through you, hot and bright at your core, flowing across your entire body as you ride his fingers, practically sobbing his name.

your hips rock back up, forcing his fingers deeper into you, and he holds you tight as you ride it through.

for a moment, your vision is replaced with a million little black dots, but then the haze clears and you see joel kneeling in front of you, one hand with stilled fingers still inside you, the other, grasping your hip and holding on gently but firmly.

it takes you longer than you expected to come down from it, but after a few minutes you've gathered yourself.

joel's no longer fingering you, instead rubbing soothing circles to a sensitive bit right at the inside of your thigh. he's telling you lovely things, and you bask in the sensation of his closeness.. you notice his fingers feel funny, but you let out a giggle when you realise they're pruney from being inside you.

he notices what you're looking at and snorts. then thinks for a moment. decides.

"you got any plans tonight?" joel asks you.

"just connor," you laugh, and joel glowers, unimpressed.

"but no, this was much better. and i have no other plans tonight. got something in mind?"

he nods, and suddenly looks almost bashful. "i've got a hotel room. technically part of the bachelor party, but my room's at the opposite end of the hallway from the rest of the party."

you grin.

"i know-" he starts, "i know we hardly ever have a chance to sleep in a bed together. but this could be a chance. if you want?"

for the second time this evening, you grab him by the collar and pull him in for a kiss.

the hotel is really only ten minutes away, but it feels like about five million hours.

you're trying not to look recently fucked, and joel's trying not to let his enormous hard-on look visible through his jeans.

you both sit rigidly in the back seat of the cab. neither of you know if you're being too cautious, or not cautious enough, but you both want to keep whatever you're doing between just the two of you.

despite the distance, though, you can still feel the tug between you. you could cut the tension with a knife. it's only when you arrive at your destination do you feel like you can breathe again. you don't know how, but you know joel feels it too.

there was always the risk that joel's brother could, potentially, run into them in the elevator.

so, all things considered, it was a really, really stupid idea to fool around on the elevator ride to the tenth floor.

"think they have cameras in here?" you ask, and joel snorts.

"if they do, they'll be getting quite a show, huh baby?"

"yes daddy," you agree, and joel groans at your words, closing his eyes, his head tilting back to rest against the cool metal wall behind him. he feels you undo his zipper, unfastens his belt and the button of his jeans. then the wet warmth of your mouth is wrapped against the head of his cock and his groan turns into a shudder of absolute pleasure.

his pants are still up at his hips, cock hanging out impressively. you drag your nails along his thighs all the same, providing enough pressure so he doesn't lose sensation through the fabric.

his hands are tangled up in your hair as you pull his hips towards you, encouraging him to fuck your throat. he's getting frantic, when the elevator suddenly dings!

you break apart instantly and for a moment your stomach flips as you're certain someone else is about to walk into the elevator, but then you realise you've arrived at your floor.

joel composes himself, slicks his sweaty hair back and pulls his pants back up, pretending to ignore the enormous hard-on straining against the fabric.

"this way," he tells you, and you follow him.

any initial reversal of your usual roles becomes a rhythm of give and take. you're barely through the door before joel's grabbing at the hem of your dress and pulling it up and over your shoulders. unhooks your bra and tosses it to the floor.

he stands there and stares at you for a moment, mapping out every curve, every angle, every stretch mark. you're completely bare for him, your panties still in his pocket.

then he's on you, hands gripping your waist, your jaw, stroking over your breasts, fingers dragging over your bellybutton, cupping your pussy-- the sensation is overwhelming, almost too much. if someone told you he'd grown extra hands, you'd believe them; his touch is all over you.

"you feel so good baby," he tells you as his hands slide down to grab at your ass, "you sweet thing-"

you work at unbuttoning his shirt, shoving it off his arms. you pull off his belt, too, which he never rebuckled. shuck his pants down, drop to your knees.

but then he pulls you back up. "uh-uh," he shakes his head, "get on this bed right now for daddy. i wanna taste you while you taste me."

you scoot back onto the bed and lay down, your head near the pillows. joel walks around the bed and kisses you once more, deeply, and then he yanks off his socks and straddles your face.

"this okay baby?" he asks. his cock is thick and heavy and hanging against your cheek.

"yes, daddy-" you tell him, and move to take a tentative lick of his swollen head.

"good girl," he groans and stretches out. you grab his cock with one hand, gripping onto his hip with the other. you guide his cock in your mouth, relaxing and opening your throat just how you need to for this angle. the salty tang is perfect, and you can feel his body tremble.

then you can feel his breath on your abdomen as he trails kisses down and down and down and then his lips meet yours, his hands grip your ass, and he's pointed his tongue in the most delicious way as it flicks over your clit and then inside you. you're doing your best to stay focused on sucking his cock--you know he hasn't gotten off once yet tonight--but the sensation starts to build and build and build and it's all you can do to at least keep your throat open for him to fuck into as he brings you towards another climax.

he holds onto you as you come, as if any distance would cause you to disintegrate. you ride his tongue, dazed by the sensation, the brush of his beard, the way he's gotten loud and feral as he licks up the slick of your release. your thighs are wet, both from your own arousal and his spit, and as you come back to yourself, you know you need him to fuck you.

"joel-," you say, and he ignores you, continuing to lick at you.

"joel, please-," you beg, "need your cock so bad. need you to fuck me, to fill me up-"

he pulls back, "try again," and then dives in again.

"daddy, please!", you cry, and it comes out almost as a shout.m

"there's my good girl," he tells you, and swings his leg back over you so he's no longer straddling your face. he holds his dick and slaps it a few times on your cheek. "need this cock filling you up?"

"yes."

"better beg for it, baby girl."

you fucking love when he makes you beg, but you hate it too. he walks around the bed and then kneels on the foot of it. hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you towards him.

"need it, daddy. use this pussy, use me, please-" your begging has turned to whining, and joel's eyes are blown black, hard and beautiful as he looks at you.

"fill me up with your cum, take your pleasure from me, daddy, let me be so good for you."

in a single fluid motion, he yanks your knees up onto his shoulders and fucks into you in with a single long thrust.

you scream out, it's so much and so good.

"such a good girl, huh?" he asks you, cupping your jaw as he pounds into you. it's not soft, not languid, not gentle. he sets a brutal pace, his hips stuttering, cock ramming into you again and again and again. "sweet little toy for me to use, aren't you baby? keep that pussy open wide for your daddy, huh? so wet for me, you just wanna make daddy feel good, don'tcha?"

the sensation is too much, his coarse hair grinding against your clit as he fucks so deeply into you, sending sparks flying through you at the thought of it. he presses a palm into your belly, just below your navel, and the pleasure increases beautifully.

you've lost the ability to form coherent sentences, just "yes, yes, yes, so good daddy, so fucking deep, you're so big, such a big fuckin' cock, fuck!"

his moans have turned into strangled grunts, all his focus on getting himself off in you. you adjust your hips just a little and the angle allows him to press in just that little bit deeper.

"you love feeling me in here, don't ya?" he asks, pressing his fingers harder into your belly, pulling a moan from you you weren't expecting. his eyes flicker back to your face and his eyes crinkle, "takin' daddy's cock so nice."

then he moves his fingers back down to play with your clit again.

"gettin' close, baby," he tells you, "but i need just one more from ya. can you do that, pretty girl? come one more time on daddy's dick?"

you whine and writhe but you know you can--it's already building--and you tell him so.

"that's my good girl," he praises, his fingertips slick and teasing as he coaxes another orgasm out of you.

it hits you like a freight train, and suddenly you're spasming around him, sucking his cock almost deeper inside you, exploding with waves and waves of pleasure. you scream, and he lets out a strangled cry before he spills inside you.

it takes a few minutes before either of you move again. he pulls himself out gingerly, and you wince at the lack of fullness.

"took it so nice, baby," he tells you, and cupping a soothing hand over your pussy, being careful to avoid your clit or anything too sensitive. he pulls his hand away and looks at the mess on it, your come mixed together and dripping out of you. "so good for me."

then he kisses you, gentle, sweet and deep.

he runs a shower for the both of you and scrubs you both clean. it's possibly the most tender moment you've had with him, as he tucks a wet lock of your hair back, kissing you again as his softened cock presses against you and you let yourself savour the sensation of your bodies inhabiting the same space.

joel sorts through the linens and changes the sheets before you go to bed. it's unnecessary and oddly thoughtful, something you didn't really expect.

he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as you snuggle in together. you can feel your eyelids growing heavy, but joel brings you back to him before you can drift off properly.

"you asked what this is between us. what i wanted."

you stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

"i-" he falters, "i still don't know. but i know that i care for you."

"joel-"

"and i know there's no place i'd rather be right now."

you let that sit for a moment. then turn and kiss him.

"go to sleep, joel."

"okay, pretty lady."

he pulls you close and you drift off in his arms.

[marauroon]

I love your new fic Hypothermic and the whole trope of Jamie being a big cuddle bug and the best friend trope always has a chokehold on me. Can you write a romantic bestfriend!james maybe about a swim in the black lake or something with a summery vibe please (I miss summer so much rn)

BALL GAME — J.POTTER

James makes the most of being your favourite person to convince you out of the castle and into the lake.

cw — james picks the reader up at one point

james potter x fem!reader || fluff || 1.3k || requests open!

a/n: best friend james has my whole entire heart i fear

Sometimes James is half convinced you’re a vampire, that your skin is so delicate that even a pinprick of sunlight will burn you into a pile of ash.

If it weren’t for your ostentatious love of the summer season—and the privilege James has as your best friend—he’d be surprised you even agreed to his request at all.

Yet there you were, sat pretty underneath the shade of one of the small willow trees lining the water with a book in your lap and a picnic blanket separating you from the grass.

Was he a little sad you’d decided not to join the group in splashing around? A little. Was he going to ask you again later with his puppy dog eyes so you couldn’t refuse him? Probably.

But right now he was content with watching how your eyebrows furrowed and left small wrinkles between your eyes as you read a particularly interesting paragraph, and the slight fluttering of your hair against the small breeze.

A sharp splash of water to the back of his head tore James’ attention from watching the way your eyes scanned the pages of your novel with your nose scrunched in a mix of surprise and disgust at whatever was printed in the ink, and he turned around with an exaggerated gesture of annoyance only to be met with another splash straight to his face.

Whilst the icy water was a nice relief from the nearly 30° heat, it was still cold.

“What was that for?” James pulls his glasses from his face to try and wipe the water droplets from the lenses with his thumb, turning Sirius’ face into a blurry pale blob in the process.

“We’re picking teams for a makeshift volleyball game? You’d know that if you stopped gawking over there like a dog in heat,” James can vaguely make out Sirius crossing his arms over his chest, and lo and behold, when he slots his glasses back on, Sirius’ expression is just as smug as he expected it to be.

“I wasn’t ‘gawking’ anywhere you twat,” James sends a splash of water in Sirius’ direction as a retaliation. “I was just appreciating the fact that she actually joined us, that’s all,”

“Appreciating her face you mean,” Sirius’ tone matches his smugness perfectly, and James lets out a short scoff with a roll of his eyes.

“You’re such a dog Pads,”

“You know it,” Sirius shoots James a wink and he pretends to gag. “Seriously though, stop staring so we can play,”

“Orrr,” Marlene wades over to the two to interrupt the conversation, laying her arm over Sirius’ shoulder. “You can go over there and convince her to join us, we’re uneven,”

James shoots another glance in your direction with an uncertain hum. “I don’t think we should disturb her,”

“We can’t play 4 to 3 James,” Marlene tilts her head and shakes it lightly. “So go bat your eyelashes and use your favouritism to get us another player,”

She gives a dismissive wave of her hand and Sirius joins her, James sending the two a very unimpressed look as he drags himself out of the water to speak to you.

It’s not the new source of shade from the sun that informs you of James’s presence, nor is it the sight of him sitting down cross-legged beside you in your peripheral vision. It’s the water droplets that sprinkle the right side of your face and the pages of your book that give him away.

“James—” You let out a low groan to voice your disapproval at him shaking his head like a dog to dry his hair, something that very clearly didn’t work very well as water continued to drip from his curls onto his shoulders, disappearing into the already soaked fabric of his t-shirt.

“Sorry sorry collateral damage I swear,” He throws up his hands in an immediate surrender, and you let out a small scoff with a shake of your head as you pull his glasses from the bridge of his nose to dry them on the hem of your t-shirt.

“Having fun then?” You leave your book on the blanket to shift onto your knees, carefully placing James’ glasses back on his face so they properly catch behind his ears.

James nods with a smile at how gentle your fingers are as they brush the sides of his cheeks when you return them to your lap. “Yeah, we’re about to play a round of volleyball, fancy joining us?”

You scrunch up your nose slightly and he can immediately anticipate your answer. “…no?”

“Awe come on we’re uneven,” James tilts his head as he gestures towards the others in the water, a small pout etched onto his face. “We can’t play 3 to 4 that’s not how it works,”

He blinks at you softly, eyes filled with carefully curated desperation. “Please? We can team up together,” He adds the idea of teaming up like it’s an added bonus to your agreement, his voice sweet, sticky, and absolutely dripping in persuasion.

He looks perfectly pathetic when he looks at you like that, and who are you really to say no to him?

“One game,” Your answer is joined by an exasperated sigh, but James reacts like you’ve just told him all of Severus’ hair has fallen out rather than begrudgingly agreeing to play water volleyball with him.

“Perfect! Let’s go,” James holds out his hand to help you up eagerly, a smile beaming across his face that almost puts the blazing sun to shame in it’s brightness.

You roll your eyes at him, but take his hand nonetheless, and he’s a little too excited in pulling you to your feet as he sends you stumbling forward from his pull, and he uses the momentum to lean down and take the top half of your body over his shoulder, hoisting you off the ground in the process.

You can sense the inevitable immediately.

“Don’t you dare—” You arms wrap tightly around James’ waist as he straightens his posture, his arms secured around your thighs as he walks the two of you towards the lake, suspiciously quiet considering his earlier excitement. “James I swear to god if you do what I think you are going to do I will destroy you,”

You kick your legs the closer you get to the water, although it’s to no real avail compared to the arm strength that is James’ chaser practice, and all it really ends up doing is garnering you an audience as James begins to wade in the water.

“James, you better put me down right now.“ Your warning falls on deaf ears, and your half surprised at the amount of will power he has to keep ignoring you as the water reaches his knees.

“James—“ You barely manage to get his name out before he dive on a you both into the water, it’s icy temperature immediately sending a chill up your spine as you resurface with a gasp, James laughing as he breaks the water himself.

“You absolute twat—” You send a splash of water in James’ direction with an over-exaggerated show of your disapproval, and he blocks it with his forearm, laughter still steadily streaming from his mouth.

Needless to say, you didn’t team with him for the volleyball game.

[inmyheaddd]

can i call you tonight? - xander hawthorne x reader

a/n: i adore autumn with my whole heart but i’m missing those carefree summer romance vibes soo bad 😖 wc: 1.8k warnings: kissing, mild language, verryyy fluffy ur teeth might fall out masterlist

the sun was just beginning to set, the sky looking like something out of a painting, and you and xander had spent the whole day at the beach together — swimming, laughing, and, of course, getting covered in sand. 

now, still giggling from the ‘sand ball’ fight you had with him earlier, you both stumbled toward the beach shower, desperate to wash the sand off of you.

the water came out freezing at first, eliciting a yelp from you as you stumbled back — in turn making xander laugh, before you adjusted the temperature perfectly to your liking.

which, according to xander, was: very, very, hot.

“are you trying to boil us alive?” his eyes were comically wide, furrowing his brows after he stood under it for half a second, jumping back with a shout. 

you simply stood under the shower head calmly, attempting to get the sand out of your hair.

you huffed a laugh through your nose, “xander, it’s not even that hot, i—“

“—were the hours under the scorching sun not enough? you also need to stand under water that’s practically a few degrees away from turning you into a boiled lobster?” he rambled on. 

atleast he was so chill and normal about the temperature, so very calmly expressing his dislike!  

you stifled a laugh as he continued, unbotheredly wringing water out of your hair as you watched him complain. “i’m just saying, there’s a fine line between a shower and a chemical peel.” he said, pointing at the shower with a shake of his head. 

“that water is hot enough to sterilize surgical instruments.” he crossed his arms over his bare chest, as you watched him watch you, a slightly confused furrow in your brows and intrigued smile growing on your face.

a slow grin grew on his face as he raked his eyes over you, taking in your slightly sunburned nose, wet hair, and bathing suit you had picked out with him a few weeks back. 

he lolled his head to the side before he spoke, “i’m sorry— why was i mad again?”

you laughed at his quick demeanor change, playfully rolling your eyes and sighing dramatically before making the temperature colder and motioning for him to step in.  “just get in, you big baby.”

“oh, thankyou very much, i appreciate your willingness.” he responded, bowing his head jokingly as he stepped under the water, his hands finding your lower back instantly. 

but of course, xander being xander, couldn’t just stand there like a regular person. 

no, he shook his head, like some sort of dog sending water droplets and little sand particles everywhere. 

“xander!” you squealed, shielding your face and taking a step back, but you couldn’t stop laughing. 

“oh my god— you’re so annoying!” you squeaked out, still laughing.

he chuckled, taking a step closer to you and placing his hands where they just were, eyes sparkling with mischief as water dripped down his hair. “and you’re so easy to annoy.”

he reached out, gently brushing sand off your cheek, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “that wasn’t funny.” you said, biting back a smile. 

it was funny, but he didn’t have to know that.

“i’m sorry,” he faux pouted at you. he didn’t sound sorry, in fact, he sounded a little amused. 

you felt your stomach do a little flip, but before you could say anything, his eyebrows raised like a lightbulb went off in his head, and he grabbed the shampoo bottle from your beach bag on the ledge. 

“here, let me do this right.” he turned to stand behind you, pouring an adequate amount into his hand and then started working his fingers into your scalp. 

you tried to turn your head to ask him what he was doing, but it did feel a little nice to stand there and feel his hands run through your hair. okay, maybe not just a little.

he gently guided your head back forward. "hold still," he said, his voice lower, but with a little hint of that teasing edge remaining. 

when he noticed you weren’t saying anything back, and that if anything you were feeling relaxed, he spoke again. 

“see, would you look at that?" he said softly, "i can be helpful too." 

you could practically hear the grin in his voice, but it was hard to focus on that with the way you felt like you were buzzing under his touch.

you hummed, “yeah, only when you want to be.” you let your eyes close for a moment, and then he spoke again.

“i want to be helpful with you all the time.” you could hear the fake pout in his voice, then it flipped completely, and you heard that grin in what he said next.

“i’d make an excellent stay at home husband for you, yeah?” he joked with his voice all breathy-like. 

“you wouldn’t have to worry about me complaining…” he trailed off, “you know, except about the shower temperature.”

you let out a little chuckle, and opened your mouth to remind him about the time he somehow burnt instant noodles, and that maybe being a stay-at-home husband wasn’t the right path. 

you didn’t get the chance to say anything, though, because he swiftly grabbed your shoulders and turned you around, standing you under the shower head. 

your eyelids immediately squeezed shut, squealing a little with your whole face scrunched up as the shampoo-y water ran down your hair.  you were careful not to get it in your eyes, laughing as xander stepped infront of you and gently moved your hair out of your face. 

you opened your eyes, still squinting a little as you looked up at him. “that also wasn’t funny.” you remarked. “not in the slightest.”

he quirked a brow up, looking like he was biting back a grin, “it wasn’t?” he asked, cocking his head to the side in question.

“no.” 

then a roguish smile started to spread on his face, and you began to deeply regret your words. 

“well then, would you like to see,” he paused for dramatic effect and raised his eyebrows, “something funny?”

you were the one biting back a smile now, taking a step back from xander as you shook your head, already anticipating what he was going to do. 

“…no.”

he rendered the step you took back obsolete as he stepped right on forward, his smile turning into a chuckle as you shook your head. 

there were about three things you were afraid of in this world, 1: a bug getting in your food and you eating it, 2: getting kidnapped and held hostage, and 3: xander blackwood hawthorne’s tickles. 

“xander, i was kidding, i swear.” you rambled with your voice dropping lower, trying to get out of this situation, but xander’s face only scrunched up in laughter as he gave you about 5 seconds to make your case.  

“you’re like, the funniest person i’ve ever met! you’re so charming and hilarious, and —“

your time was over, it seemed, because xander bent down and picked you up over his shoulder, his laughs increasing in volume as you squealed in the secluded beach. “xander! it was a joke, i promise! put me down!” 

as if he was on a quest to become even more annoying he began running to the beach beds, regardless of your protests which were now coming out more as laughs. 

he placed you on a beach bed breathlessly, his hands coming to cup your face as he basically climbed on top of you, then leant down to kiss you.

oh, you weren’t expecting that. 

granted, you were both still breathless, and the two of you were smiling and laughing against each other so much, that you weren’t sure whatever you were doing could be considered a kiss.

then it came. xander pulled back ever so slightly and his hands moved down and jabbed at your neck, then your sides, your arms, anywhere you were ticklish, and you were both equally a laughing wreck. 

you tried to peel his hands off of you as you writhed under him, repeating his name surely over 20 times in between giggles. 

after what seemed like forever, he stopped, putting his hands up in the air as he sat up, and your chest heaved as you caught your breath.

“now,” he said, “was that funny?” he raised an eyebrow, “choose your answer very wisely.” 

“fine,” you huffed, “it was a little funny.” 

his other brow joined the raised one at the top of his forehead, “that was not the wise  answer i thought of,” he muttered, as he slowly started put his hands back down towards you, your eyes darting between his face and his hands.

“okay. okay, yes!” you scrambled before he could literally attack you again, “i lied, it was funny, and not just a little.” 

his hands retreated, “brilliant. very wise answer,” he commented, “well done.” 

he brought his hands up to your jaw and only your jaw this time, cradling your face like he did earlier as he placed a short peck on your lips, but you pulled him in for a longer one. 

he smiled at that— you felt it, and he reciprocated the kiss 10x harder.  

 as he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, he murmured with his voice low. “question,”

“what is it?” you breathed out, still catching your breath. 

“does it genuinely annoy you when i tickle you like that?” he asked, his voice bare of any teasing, “don’t lie, please.” he added on. 

“besides, i can be very perceptive of micro-expressions, and i can feel your heartbeat against me right now.” 

you let out a little laugh, even though your heart was doing somersaults in that moment. xander was possibly  the most caring person you’d ever met —he was a deeply empathetic person underneath his rube goldberg obsessions and masks of humor he used so often.

“no,” you said truthfully, “i don’t actually get annoyed, i could never actually get annoyed at you. why?” 

you felt his breath hitch against your lips, a very un-xander like manner. “your micro-expressions and heart rate indicate you’re telling me the truth.” he muttered. 

how did he sound hot talking about micro expressions and heart rates?

then you realized, he was expertly dodging your question on “why?”.

“because it is the truth.” you muttered back, smiling a little as you watched him pull back too see your eyes better. 

he didn’t say anything after that— in lieu of words, he pressed another sweet kiss to your lips. he wasn’t one to expose his worries or be vulnerable very often, and you understood that. he’s opened before about people saying he’s ‘too much’ and how it sometimes gets to him, but in all honesty, you could never get enough of him.   

as you felt the warmth of his hands on your face and your lips moved across his in rhythm, a thought crossed your mind: 

if that’s what you get for telling him he was funny, you’d start telling him he’s a world class comedian now. 

tag list: @charsoamerican @ariabedumb @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary

@whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable @anintellectualintellectual @bewitchingkisses @maybxlle

@sheisntyou @emelia07 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee i love u guys 🙈🙈 if you’d like to be removed or added lmk!!

[doodlenoodleboi]

Hello! I have a request for Sal Fisher! Can you please write something about him with a reader who suffers from anxiety and that leads to her eating a bit faster than other people? She feels really embarrased when someone points it out. Comments like "Are you done already?" get to her, but she doesn't say anything and instead ducks her head because she is too shy and non-confrontational to stand up for herself. Thank you! <3

Sal Drabble

The vibe

Sal

It was a high school summer, these summers you could choose to either be a kid again or grow as an adult. We have a difficult time choosing these things. Why must we choose things that we don’t want to why not just live the moment?

“Hey! Hey! Bro, wake up!” I was Welcomed by the faces of my two best friends Sal and Larry, a rather interesting duo. The night before or rather shall I say a couple hours ago we had a sleepover at Larry’s house. I was tired and confused by the sudden disruption of my sleep.

“What?” I said, practically still asleep, rubbing my eyes from the crusty buildup of rheum.

“We’re leaving!” Sal said his smile evident in his voice, even though his prosthetic covered his face. I had never been out at night, especially with these two friends. Apparently it was a common thing amongst Larry and Sal. Sal even took off his prosthetic couple times. Nobody could see you in these dark streets, nobody was there to breathe in the air instead of that suffocating mask as Sal described.

Funny enough, Sal might dislike his appearance but the only thing that he truly appreciates about it, it is how it finds him real friends. Ones that couldn’t care less about his appearance. Those ones still tight, so now we’re strolling late at night down these streets I can’t remember. Soon I’ll never see the streets and will have to go away we have to be independent adults. Maybe even barely seeing each other and that sucked, just even the thought.”

The cold air braised everyone’s skin, obviously cool, but nothing close to freezing. Sal’s shoulder, blue hair covered his face for the most part. The way his face had been obscured as a child scared the creeps away but kept his friends closer. The way his right cheek torn reminded me of Mileena (MK reference).

The walk down the cold streets were quiet the only interruption being Larry every so often comments. And the sound of Sal’s skateboard against the road, streetlight and moonlight being to be only source of illumination.

I simply followed, along like a lost puppy going along with the flow, not wanting to ruin the vibe. It was uncomfortably quiet until Larry made his extroverted comment about being hungry. We stopped at a (insert place), probably close to our destination.

Larry ordered for everyone being the extrovert, he is of the group. Then we left, soon we made it to our destination. An abandoned skate park, right next to it was a building covered in graffiti. It was a comforting vibe about the place, because even if it was abandoned, I’m sure many people have still came here even though such information had been given.

I sat on the top of the Quarterpipe, a rather vacant area until Larry decides to sit next to me. I wasn’t fond of eating in front of people, maybe feel uncomfortable and watched. They could have absolutely no interest in me, but for some reason, I feel like all eyes on me. I am the best person in the world because I could be the absolute worst. I’m scared of people’s perception of me.

I started to eat next to Larry not wanting to confess that I am uncomfortable with the situation. I had been made fun of in the past because of my eating habits. As I ate my food, almost finished with it, Larry responded. (damn little lady you sure can pack it away. Jk) “Yo Bruh you look like Kirby right now, fucking that shit up.” in between the time of now and then, Larry was high, and that truly made me laugh forgetting about the previous situation given his state.

“Shut up Larry.” sal had said as he skated over to him. “He’s probably just high don’t mind him.” For a while, I would be dealing with a high Larry and a Sally who couldn’t care to do more than skate to get his mind off everything.

That night she realized she was surrounded by people. She wouldn’t have to worry about being embarrassed around. After all, they all are flawed.

(I am so sorry this was so rushed and so last-minute)

[mirkhammett]

champagne coast / kirk

there’s a specific vibe i went for in this, and i don’t know if i manage to express it properly but..those coming of age movie parties with jeff buckley in the soundtrack ^.^ you get me?? this is my first time trying to write something longer than 400 words in a looong while, so pls bare with me and my clusters of infinite mistakes lol

reblogs, likes, comments and asks are all highly appreciated! if this gets some interactions i may do a part 2 with..fun stuff wink wink!! i also apologise for how rushed the ending is, but i gave up lol

summary: you meet a cute guitarist at a party, that’s about it ^.^

word count; 4.2k

warnings; mentions of drugs, smoking (tobacco+marijuana, reader+kirk smoke cigs)

i have not proofread this yet so expect mistakes!!

the summer breeze is discouraging. desolate plants are surviving just barely under the malicious sun, like a record that just keeps on playing; the aftermath of the music, the seconds of muffled silence as the vinyl spins effortlessly, and you know you should just get up and remove the stylus, because the impracticalness of such a simple act of futility, could end up with a damaged record. and no one wants a damaged record.

there’s often a local yearn for the heat, summer always seeming too far away in winter, as the miserable humidity is replaced with a sharp winter, ice flakes cutting like blades, which to some, would be considered worse. and to this sum, the summer breeze may be a blessing.

everything about this place could be deemed as overstimulating. from the immense mass of people, all in garments that would never live to see the day in a public place, with such little material- could these things really be considered as clothes? and judging by the majority of party-goers, your opinion would be considered unpopular.

the concrete is hot to touch- the unsteady porch not doing much to help. it’s slightly better than inside the house, though.

it isn’t too big, it’s just too small. a perfectly adequate residence for someone in their mid 20s to occupy, and it looks it too. the entryway of the house is not only filled with coats and others of the sort, but all 4 of the cream coloured walls are adorned in posters. some are easily known- you recognise one in particular as a promotional poster for a new thrash band, the logo on the corner signifying that whoever owns this, got it fresh from a record store window.

entering though the hallway into the kitchen felt like a treacherous task for you, under the oppressive temperatures. sporting this thin sweater may have not been the right choice, you criticise.

there’s a table in the kitchen. well, the remains of a table. empty beer cans are scattered across, and a half full bowl of punch sits, patiently waiting for its next victim to intoxicate with its high levels of ethanol, and god knows what else. you pondered if fresh orange juice was used, or artificial.

you feel their eyes on you before you see it. and then a hands reaching out to you. skinny, nimble fingers connected to a tanned wrist, paired with a couple dainty, gold, probably fake, bracelets. and that tanned wrist connects to an equally tan body, (of course.)

you look at her quizzically. she’s got flowing hair, brown ribbons of curl that shone with an orange tint under the shitty, dingy lamp illuminating the cramped room. and then you gazed up at her again.

do you know her? does she know you?

staring unblinkingly at her, you realise, is probably very much off putting. it’s hard to take kindness from strangers, well, for most people. it’s even harder to tell if that kindness is genuine. you believe in the idea, quality, or quantity. at least that’s what you tell yourself- and it maybe the whole reason you ended up in this predicament.

she’s got a man on her arm. he’s tall, well, he’s taller than both you, and her. his long, blonde hair is looking a little ratty, and you know she must have thought the same too. you can also tell he’s been trying to grow out a ‘horse-shoe’ moustache, judging by the minor prickles of hair, and the subtle shaping.

he’s looking at you like a guard dog- and his expression is fully straight. you can’t tell if he’s one of those people, that show a hard exterior, but really, is the complete opposite, or, if he is really a dick and is gonna punch you if you stare any longer. choosing a safe option, you glance back at her.

“here,” she nudges you again. oh, she’s got a cup. it’s one of those cheap, red plastic cups you always see in the movies- the frat party ones. her presence is warm. she smiles warmly. is that a thing?

“get yourself a drink.” and then she’s opening up the palm of your hand, and tightening your fingers around the plastic rim.

you hum in surprise. it’s not every day a complete stranger is nice to you. infact, you can only count one specific time where this happened before. the one time that led to you coming to this party, through the kindness of a once mutual, now, you felt comfortable enough to consider, just a friend.

“oh! thank you.” you give the best, closed mouth wide smile you can, though it seems more like a grimace.

she doesn’t care. they’re already gone.

the next room is slightly more interesting than the last, a blue strobe light left in the corner. thought it’s not glowing in multi colours like it should be, instead it’s just illuminating the room, which could be the antithesis of something spacious, in a pale blue hue. it’s reflecting off onto an old, worn leather couch with multiple holes, which you can only assume are from cigarette stubs.

the whole house has some sort of retro style, which you appreciate.

the summer breeze, once discouraging, now borderlining on something sinister. could the sun really have malicious intent? or is the world just hell bent against you?- with your fashion choices not accommodated to the ever changing weather.

you pass a couple of groups- they don’t look older than you, though they don’t look younger. but the bodies on bodies is all too much to handle, when everyone’s body temperature has accumulated into one big cacophony, a spell for disaster.

every thing was getting too much.

the grandfather clock standing proud, ticking in a futile rhythm, back and forth, on and off, a constant reminder of the stench of sweat covered bodies and the metallic aroma of almost empty cans of beer, for the sticky residue left behind, which had escaped out of one too many discarded cans, and seeped into possibly every material in this cramped hole of a living space. the longer this party would go on, the harder it would be to call this room a living space. scrap that, this is an un-liveable space.

the atmosphere was fine. the people were fine. everything was fine minding it’s own, but together, seeming like a recipe for a symphony of destruction.

luckily for you, there was an out.

big wooden doors, with bigger glass panels, providing the only symbol of a once eloquent residence. the whole house was, well, not modern, but in a sense it didn’t carry this vintage-ness; like the decorations of choice did- so it was a nice touch. at least you thought.

and those big wooden doors, led you to your freedom, or in other words, the patio.

upon first examination, the garden was split into two groups. the outdoor couch sitting area, which provided just as many cigarette burns as the excuse of a couch inside, but longer, presenting itself in an ‘L’ shape. and on this couch, sprawled out were a group of people, all comfortable in very, odd? positions. wait, on a different thought, not all.

he was very pretty from a first glance, his chocolate curls fading into something more, like black ribbons of coal, though they shone with a red tinge under the harsh glow from the ongoing sunset.

you never stopped to notice the sunset.

but he looked almost rigid. he seemed reserved. he seemed different. it was like he had purposely tried to squeeze himself down the cracks of the sofa, for it to swallow him whole. but then again, he didn’t seem anxious.

he held a joint between nimble fingers. from a distance, you could make out the red rashes lining them, small bloody scars, in such a recognisable pattern that you just knew all too well, he had to play guitar. often. he was having trouble smoking it, though. intimate breaths of wind cascaded his locks to cover his pretty features, sticking to his chapped lips as he brought up the blunt and examined, close and personal.

you pondered if maybe, just maybe, he was like you too. practically a stranger to this new world before your eyes, lacking the confidence to do anything to change it. sure, you were confident in yourself, there was no reason for you not to be. just, in social situations like this, it would tend to falter.

oh, wait. no, you take it back.

the guard dog from before-hand sits tall beside the curly brunette. he seems to be ranting about something. the nice girls not by his side anymore. you wonder if anything happened between them.

the ratty blonde sported a goofy grin. so you were right. a labrador in disguise. you stole a few more glances, before continuing down your trail.

you didn’t think you’d fit into other group either. this was was more, energetic, a pile of sweaty messes, a cheap speaker blasting heavy metal, with a crispness to the speaker that could never be recreated with a new one, nor the sense of comfort that comes with it. something worn down, worn with love, like a jacket, peeling at the seams. a jacket that’s been well loved by someone, despite its flaws.

it was hard to concentrate on your thoughts and breathe pure air properly with the booming deathly melodie’s of ozzy osbourne blasting, the bass managing to shake a loose rope swing hanging from an old oak tree. you thought it must’ve been a gentle reminder of childhood.

the path continued to trail on, the melancholic rock dying it by a couple slight octaves. then it ended. a large, unsteady fence stood tall, and not very proud. a bench resided, with 2 more oak trees, one on each side, in a way to protect the bench, preserve the wood from heavy sunlight.

the bench wasn’t the most comfortable, but it served for what it could. it was obviously aged down through the years, so really, you couldn’t complain.

the view was pretty. the sun going down, with all these people enjoying themselves, it was a gorgeous sight. though it was funny you still hadn’t wandered into the small minority you knew yet. though you were growing impatient under this blanket of loneliness, itching for something that would burn, something to exhale.

the pocket of your worn jeans were loose- loose enough to know that if something wanted to fall out, by all means it could. and now, after futile attempts to find your lighter, you prayed to anyone that would listen, please say i haven’t lost it.

but alas, the gods still weren’t on your side. maybe it was something in the air, which bubbled up into a fit of internal rage, your three-quarters empty pack providing a strong sense of tobacco, laying lifeless in your rigid lap.

“need a light?”

he walked up awkwardly, intertwining his hands together. his blunt was gone, whether he had finished it himself or passed it on, you didn’t know. he smiled warmly, and if you blinked you would’ve missed it.

and all of a sudden the unbearable heat was back, sending a tinge to yours cheeks, feeling like being trapped inside a car under the scorching sun- but he didn’t look affected by the heat, in his black button up (half un-buttoned), infact, he looked angelic under the hues of reds, purples, and yellows, and whatever else fit into the mix.

he seemed nice; nice enough, to even suggest such an offer to a stranger.

“please.” you mumbled, and he warmly reached his hand out, a battered, black lighter, one of the cheap ones from the convenience stores, clasped loosely. he wiggled his fingers. revealing the lighter to your gaze, he emitted that same, goofy smile, only now revealing his crooked pearls.

he sat down on the bench.

“you don’t know many people here, huh?” he questioned. though his voice wasn’t judgy, nor threatening.

well, it’s great that your efforts to stay on the down low went out the door. it’s even greater to know that people have noticed your outstanding loneliness.

“is it that obvious?”

he stifled a laugh, shrugging slightly, sporting a wide grin. “that’s okay,” he muttered. “you know, i don’t know many either.”

the reality seemed embarrassing, and with anyone else, you would never, on your own life, admit it. but somehow, in this moment, everything was different.

he fixed his posture, resting his hands in his lap, his head turned towards you. you pursed your lips, a small smile gracing. he looked down to your lap, cigarette still in your hand, and signalled for you to raise it.

you quickly caught on, assuming he would just hand you the lighter after you placed the cigarette between your lips. he did not.

instead he leaned in closer, bringing one hand to cover one side of the cigarette, the other to light it up effortlessly. oh, i guess that works too.

you took a puff, the inhale longer than the exhale, the smoke a delicious burn in your lungs. resting the cigarette between 2 nimble fingers, you bit your chapped lip.

“i’m kirk, by the way.”

“hi kirk,” you grinned, and told him your name. he grinned back.

he fiddled with his fingers, cracking his knuckles with expertise. and then he points at your shirt. “i like fleetwood mac, too.”

hanging with kirk wasn’t so bad. actually it wasn’t bad, not at all. somehow minutes turned into shorter minutes, 60 seconds seeming to pass all too quick. and those minutes were quickly consumed by a larger number, a black hole that could be called hours.

the night air had turned chilly, the effects of a bipolar summer very clear. the arrival of goosebumps took place, and so did a great warmth, the crackle of a fire pit, and the smell of fresh wood, the aroma of smoke. legs now touching one another’s as a multitude of different people sat around in criss-cross positions.

but that wasn’t where you found yourself.

sitting in the passenger seat of his run down black 70s capri, a heavy scent of cologne mixed with a faint essence of weed, hanging lowly, stuck into the leather seats. the key clattered as he pushed it into the lock, the engine starting up with a fierce roar.

a conversation about music had somehow led you here, sitting almost shyly in his car, legs folded upon one another. it all started with a singular comment about fleetwood mac, and in a matter of minutes you found yourself immersed in conversation, somehow sitting close together than you had before, the heat of his breath radiating closely as he enthusiastically ranted about led zeppelin IV. and then some more, about who he believed to be his biggest inspiration, jimi hendrix.

oh yeah, you learnt he plays guitar too.

and with a declaration that he was hungry, sported with his reddened eyes, you were off. well, you were never really given the choice. your hand grasped tightly in his, excitedly taken back through the garden, through the shitty cramped living space, (and him accidentally walking into the smaller couch), back through the kitchen with bottles now empty, red plastic cups now scattered, through to the entry way. with that same, sweet thrash poster now hanging on.

and as the car roared up, so did the symphonies of rolling stones, because you can’t always get what you want.

“so the blonde one, he’s your friend?”

the melody of the rolling stones, switching to the doors, a mix-tape he probably burnt himself, disrupted. god bless jim morrison.

he raised a brow, though still looking at the road ahead, answering quizzically. “which blonde one?”

you bit back a smile. “the scary blonde one, with long hair. and the pretty girlfriend.”

this caused kirk to grin, shaking his head slightly to stop his hair from disrupting his view of the darkened roads. the streetlights didn’t go much to help accommodate pedestrians, nor drivers. the headlights of his vintage vehicle were slightly darker than the average, but he seemed used to it.

“ah, james. he’s my bandmate. scary, no, long hair, yes, girlfriend, no. he doesn’t do girlfriends,” he hummed lowly. “he’s one of my bestfriends.” james. you wondered if he was still with the girl you earlier assumed to be his girlfriend.

and then you sat in silence for maybe 30 seconds, maybe a full minute, pondering your next words. he didn’t seem to mind, waiting just slightly impatiently for the red light to turn green and give the get go. he rolled down the window.

“do you do girlfriends?” you asked suddenly. the longer it took for him to form a response, the more you regretted ever asking. maybe that was too forward for a guy you hadn’t even known for a full day. but then you could argue that him taking you out for dinner was even worse.

he was caught off guard, quickly masking his suprise. “i…don’t know,” he spun the wheel with skill as he turned left into a parking lot of a 50s presenting dinner, sporting a glowing red sign, walls painted once white now a light yellow. he stopped the car as he pulled into a parking spot, twisting the keys. the engine abruptly stopped, and so did the music. and then he turned to look at you, with a small smile. “do you do boyfriends?” and that was when you finally made eye contact.

shrugging slightly, you looked from his eyes to your lap, and back up to his eyes again. “i don’t know.”

his grin widened, and you return the gesture.

the gleaming lights of the diner held a stark contrast to the gloomy sky, the current time being in the early hours of the morning very obvious- and in a couple hours you’d start to hear the birds cheep and the sky lighten, and determine it time for bed.

he led you into the diner, holding the door open for you like a gentleman, the little bell on top of the door chiming in recognition of your arrival.

and from there he traveled with experience of the 24-hour diner, to a booth hidden in the corner, though still visible under the cream glare of the flickering lights; almost too visible, you thought, the brightness of the lights already forming a subtle headache in the back of your mind. the two comforts of the booth were separated with a nimble oak wood table, the sturdiness of it which had definitely gone down in its many years of occupying this place.

he grabs two menus before sitting down on one side of the booth, and you follow, sitting down on the other. he hands you one menu, and opens his own.

“i want a milkshake.” he murmurs, his eyes still scanning over the menu. you lean over the table, your menu left unopened, shifting slightly to examine the contents of drinks he was looking at.

“which flavour?” you question, slumping back into your seat.

“dunno,” he puts the menu down, looking up at you. “what flavour do you want?”

his eye contact is almost too much to handle, causing you to look back down at your hands. he doesn’t comment on it, that is if he ever even noticed the slight tint of blush on your cheeks.

“vanilla.” throughout the options of chocolate, strawberry, and banana, there’s a clear winner.

“then that’s what we’ll get.” he smiles, his red hued eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins. you bite the side of your lip, suppressing a grin, sporting a one sided, shy smile as you try to resettle your composure.

you open the menu, trying to distract yourself from the flush on your cheeks and the man sitting infront of you. his curls drop down as he tries to push them out of his face, watching you almost shyly.

“what are you gonna get?” you voice, finally looking up from the menu.

he tucks his black coils behind his ears. “the burger,” and then leans down slightly, his elbows making contact with the table, his eyes still on you. “do you wanna share?”

you nod, grinning widely. “okay, we’ll share.”

the diner lights flicker again, as well as the chime of the door, the slight rush of wind causing an appreciate breeze. there’s an empty coffee cup on the bar side, and an imprint in a red stool.

adorned in a teal coloured uniform, a tired, and pissed, (probably a college student), waitress takes your order. she doesn’t bother to put on a fake persona, and you don’t blame her. infact, you almost feel sorry that her nap in the staff room was cut short, by the puffiness of her eyes. as for kirk, he doesn’t even bat an eye at her as you order politely, his eyes still fixtated on you.

and in mere minutes the food arrives, a vanilla milkshake with a candied red cherry on top already in your grasp. kirk has taken to the task of trying to cut the burger evenly into 2 pieces, through frowns when he’s cut one slice bigger than the other. you take the smaller piece, knowing the effects of weed on your hunger. when he realises this, he pouts. “i’m not that hungry,” you explain, taking your first bite.

he pushes the fries further towards you. they’re in a wooden tray, with a tissue adorned with patterns of red and white squares underneath. you chew throughly before swallowing, setting the burger back down on the plate.

he reaches out for a fry, surprising you when he reaches even further towards you, bringing the fry up to your mouth. you take it, giggling.

while you chew on the fry with one hand, you pick up the milkshake with the other and bring the straw to his mouth, mimicking his previous movements. he smiles widely as he takes down a big gulp, laughing through his closed mouth. “wait, that’s so good.”

“i know!” you exclaim, taking a couple of salty fries from the bunch.

you dip a handful of fries into the milkshake, and he grimaces. “that’s criminal!”

you roll your eyes, giggling. “no it’s not,” you dip another one in. “you just don’t have taste.” he finishes his part of the burger ravenously, and you push the plate with your half eaten burger towards him.

“are you sure?” he questions, looking for any signs of unsureness on your face.

“only if i can have the cherry.” you bargain.

“deal,” he picks the cherry off from the top of the milkshake, wiping the whipped cream off from it with his finger, then bringing his finger to his mouth. he reaches out to give you the cherry. “here you go, m’lady.”

you let out another high pitched laugh, bringing the cherry to your plump lips and nibbling on the stem. the waitress cringes at the sound, leaning her head down in her hands and closing her eyes. you pity her.

kirk finishes the burger quickly, his next mission being reaching out for the fries. you’re not sure if he’s just got the munchies, or if he’s also even eaten today.

and soon enough, you’re flopping back into your seat, empty dishes covering the table. kirk is leaning towards you, smiling softly. you yawn, covering your face with a soft hand.

“you tired?” he murmurs, tilting his head as he smiles sweetly. you make a quiet sound, similar to a hum, and his smile grows. “okay,” he reaches over the table for your hand. “let me take you home.”

and then once again, your back in his passenger seat, the smell of cologne and marijuana now comforting. he puts the key in as softly as he can, and the second the car roars to life he takes it to himself to turn the radio down to the lowest level, looking over at you. you’re slumped in the seat, your head towards the window. he just grins.

the sky isn’t so dark anymore, a greyish dark blue, with a slint orange before sunrise. “i’m gonna need you to give me directions, ‘mkay?” he pulls out of the car park as you respond quietly, giving him the directions.

a few minutes into the ride, you realise he’s going miles below the speed limit, to keep the car steady, and not pull you out of your sleepy state. he’s humming along to the radio, his finger tapping the wheel at every beat.

trees pass in a flash, so do streetlights and benches, sets of three drains, and a couple single drains too.

then time flashes again and he’s pulling up outside your apartment, already outside the passenger door and beating you to open it. he walks you to the doorway of the building, stopping and playing with his hands.

you look up at him, smiling shyly. he does the same. “thank you for tonight, kirk,” you hesitantly open the building door. “do you wanna, maybe, do this again?”

“o-of course. i’d love to.” if you blinked, you would’ve missed the slight flush tinting his cheeks, rushing down into his neck and shoulders. he fumbles in his pocket for a piece of ripped newspaper and a pen, scribbling down his home phone number in messy writing, and if it was anything but numbers you’d have a hard time reading it. “call me, okay?”

“okay.” you grin softly, stepping into the doorway.

he backs up, smiling as he waves you off. “okay.”

and then the door shuts.

[elizabebabe]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 ೀ 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: you're scouted for love island and you and your manager think of it as a business opportunity but what happens when you actually want to find love?, you're in for the summer of your life.

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: 2

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.5k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: moments in this cringe me out but it isn't love island without cringe is it? Still introduction vibes so i'm sure it'll get smoother as we go on, basing the structure off love island uk s5 since it's my fav, but they are american!

“say hello to cade!” 

you all cheer trying to give him a solid entrance, he walks around the corner shouting “what’s up girls?!”, you feel yourself cringe, you couldn’t tell if it was because of him or the environment you're in.

he walked down from the double doors and stood next to ariana. he was taller than her, had blonde hair, black trunks, and a few tattoos on his right arm, i mean you thought he was attractive sure, but you quickly realize it’s going to take a lot for you to step forward.

you're so used to getting to know someone before putting your cards on the table so a “what’s up.” isn’t going to do him justice. 

he stood confidently with his hands on his hips, observing you all one by one.

“how are you feeling today?” ariana asks, looking up at him.

“i'm good. this is cool! you guys are all so beautiful. this is like a dream.” he quickly replies, you turn to look at the other end of the hearts, noticing abby’s excitement you can tell she quite likes him.

“so cade, "love island" is all about finding your perfect match. it all starts right here with a decision about who you want to couple-up with, but first it’s up to the girls to decide if they're interested in you.”

ariana looks at the girls then back up to him, “nerve wracking huh?”

“a little bit.” he replies nervously.

“girls, if you like what you see, please step forward.” there is a long pause, a moment of silence before abby steps off her heart and moves forward.

ariana cheers, “abby, why did you step forward?”

abby squeals, “oh my god!!, for one i really liked how he came in with lots of energy, he seems like a talker which i looove, and he’s like….really hot.” 

“okay, cade you can choose to couple up with abby orr, you can couple up with any of the four girls that didn’t step forward, what will it be?”

he takes a little time to think, redoing what he did when he first walked in, analyzing all of the girls.

“abby, i want to couple up with abby.” he says proudly, abby almost jumps up and down with excitement.

she cheers in response, “yay!!” 

you all clap as cade walks over to abby’s heart, they share a hug and he stands next to her.

“so we have our first love island couple of the year…cade and abby.”

“abby, how are you feeling?, ariana adds.

“eee!, so happy, he's definitely my type so i’m excited!” she says looking back and forth between the two, he smiles from her comments, his cheeks turning a red hue, he seems to feel comfortable enough to slither his hand onto her waist.

ariana smiles, “good, cade?”

“i’m feeling good.” he squeezes her side, “she's beautiful and seems really cool so yeah, excited.”

“clair, why didn’t you step forward?” ariana questions, projecting her voice, making eye contact, you appreciated her hosting “abilities”. 

“i need someone chill, and he also gives me the vibe he would break my heart.” she giggles delivering the last bit of her sentence. she looks over to you, maybe wanting to feel validated for feeling that way off first glance. you nod at her, giving her a smile.

“damn..” he says, putting his hand on his heart dramatically, then putting it back on abby’s waist.

“well kaia, leah, you both like heartbreakers, what happened?”

they both look at eachother, “he's cute but i just like someone more mysterious, quieter…you know?” leah softly responds.

“kaia?”

“i think i have to agree with leah, he has a lot of energy, which is great just not for me.” kaia hesitates, not trying to sound like an ass.

“it seems like you guys have really similar types..” ariana says ominously. they both laugh and look at each other. 

“alright, are we ready for the next boy?”

you all cheer, “alright everyone, please meet romeo.”

he walked out the big brown doors, the first thing you noticed was his green shorts on his tanned skin, he was a brunette and his hair was shaggy. you definitely felt a tiny butterfly.

“this place is sick,” he says softly.

he walks over to ariana, a smirk present on his face.

you fiddled with your bikini, he caught stolen glances from you every once in a while.

“romeo, welcome to love island.” 

“look at these gorgeous women in front of you.” she kindly adds.

“they are all beautiful.” he says trying his best to project his voice. 

“as you can see, we already have one couple, cade and abby, then these four single ladies.” 

“leah, kaia, clair and y/n.” she continued.

“you can couple up with any of these ladies, including abby who is already in a couple.”

you notice abby shaking her head then looking up towards cade. 

“but before we give you that choice,  let’s see if any of the girls are interested enough to step forward.” he silently nods.

“okay ladies, if any of you are interested in romeo, please step forward.”

there is another pause, you all anticipating eachothers moves, you were definitely interested but this would be a bold move from you.

your taking too long is all you can think in your head when you notice leah stepping forward, seconds later kaia. you step forward, your legs taking over and moving without your brain's permission.

he looks shocked, “wow, three gorgeous women have stepped forward for you, what are you thinking?”

“i’m speechless, really, i don’t, i don’t know.” he stutters 

“that is pretty shocking, let's go in order here, leah, why did you step forward?”

“i think he’s super cute and i've felt him eyeing me up so i would assume it's mutual.”  she says it in a “rubbing it in your face” tone. causing your eyes to discreetly roll.

“kaia”?”

“me and leah really do have the same type.”  she giggles “ he seems quite quiet but he also has that “bad boy”  aesthetic going on.”

“are you a bad boy romeo?” 

“i don’t think so..” he says bashfully.

“lastly, y/n? i noticed your hesitation, what's that about?”

you scoff, “well i thought he was attractive, i was just a bit nervous.”

"make sense,

alright, romeo, who would you like to couple up with?”

“i think y/n intrigues me quite a bit.” he says quickly, your heart feels like it bumped out of your chest. you look down to get a look at leah, she looks pissed.

“okay, go get her!” he walks closer to you, you open your arms for a embrace, you almost stick together from the sweat beads on both of your chests, 

he puts his arm around you making your stomach flip.

“you guys look great together.” 

“thank you!” you both say at the same time making you and him giggle.

“you alright leah?”

“just fine ariana, thank you.”

ariana quickly moves on, “kaia?”.

“all good here.” she smiles

“great.”

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

the coupling went on for a while, a guy named robert came out next, immediately snatching clair up, she seemed really happy about the coupling.

cyrus ran out next, he had a lot of energy but he seemed to wear it better than cade having kaia and leah stepping forward, he ended up picking leah, which seemed to be a bit of a let down for kaia but she quickly let it go remembering there is still one boy left.

aidan being the last guy to come out, he seemed more mature than the other guys, whether it was his mannerisms or the way he spoke, he ended up stealing leah, having cyrus couple up with kaia. 

“congratulations, we now have our five couples,”

you all clap and cheer,  “these couples you just made will decide how long you stay in the villa.” you look at romeo, he smiles at you.

“in your couples, you’ll spend time getting to know each other, taking on challenges together, living together and even sharing a bed together.”

“in eight weeks time, the public will be voting for their favorite couple. that couple stands to win a massive $50,000 cash prize and be crowned the winners of  ‘love island’ 2024.

but don’t forget this is love island, and the path to true love is never that simple. there may be a few surprises around every corner, and the first surprise might be sooner than you think.”

you all laugh nervously, sharing smiles with the person next to you.

“i will see you very soon.” ariana says ominously,

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

the rest of the islanders greet each other, but you and romeo seem to be in your own bubble. 

“how are you?”

you wipe your arm, “sweaty.” 

he scoffs, “me too.”

“i didn’t expect you to pick me.” you scoff.

“why not.”

“i don’t know.” you say awkwardly.

“so, i “intrigue” you?” you mock his tone from earlier, he puts his hand behind his head, “pretty much.”

robert comes up to hug you, followed by the rest of the guys you never properly interacted with, you were able to greet them with a few words before romeo interrupted, hoping to have a more private conversation with you.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you both laid on a day bed overlooking the pool, some of your fellow islanders were already dipping their feet into the pool while having conversation.

ironically “it’s so pretty.” were the first words to leave his mouth, you both admire the villa while enjoying a moment of comfortable silence.

“you know what i hate?” he says rolling his head back to get a better look at you, you can’t help but smile.

a quiet “what?” is the only thing that can leave your lips when he is staring into your eyes, he adjusts himself making the bed squeak, “small talk.”.

“me too!!” you exclaim.

he chuckles, “okay lets play a game then, rapid fire.”

“okay…, i'm assuming you’re gonna quickly ask me questions..?”

“pretty much, how old are you?”

“i’m 21.” you answer quickly, “you?”

“23, job go.” 

“i own my own business." you hesitate, "sell my own designs, it's whatever.” 

“are you kidding? that’s sick.” 

“thank you.” you shyly reply, “what about you.?”, you change your position on the bed from laying down to sitting upright.

“i work with a bunch of animals, my dad has owned a pet store since i was a kid so i kinda just grew up around them.”

hearing about his job excites you, you like someone that can be passionate about their career. 

“that’s really cu–” you attempt to reply but you’re interrupted by the sound of heels coming up from behind you, it was leah.

“do you mind if i pull romeo?”

“it’s not up to me.” you quickly respond.

he starts sitting up, leaning in to give you a hug, you hesitantly reciprocate.

“i’ll see you later, okay?” he says whispering into your ear, he pulls back from the hug fully standing up leaving you on the day bed.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

shortly after your interrupted conversation, abby and clair asked you to join them exploring the villa. you obviously say yes and get off the day bed, quickly following them inside.

to the left of the ‘backyard’ doors is a living space, followed by a pull down bed with a neon “dog house” sign. you all laugh when you first notice it, abby throws around jokes, “where cade will be sleeping if he pisses me off.” making you and clair giggle.

you turned around going to the door on the other side of the room, inside were seven beds lined up against the wall, “holy shit!” abby says from behind you, she walks ahead of you touching the first bed in the room, then looking at its bench to notice “abby.” and “cade” signs at the end of it, she jumps on it.

“clair, you'll probably be down here next to me.” you say excitedly, she chuckles. you and clair walk down to the fourth and fifth bed noticing your names, you both sit on your assigned beds.

“can you believe life right now?” abby says, even from “far away” her voice is still easily heard.

“not at all.” clair comments, looking at you, “do you think the other girls are done with their chats?” abby comments. “why?” you respond, “we need to have a girl chat.” you look at clair and she looks at you with an unreadable expression on her face.

“about our couples?, duh.” abby continues.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you and the rest of the girls decided to head upstairs to find a place to have ‘girl chat’.  you walked behind clair, right up the stairs are the showers, bathrooms but most importantly the makeup room, you all piled in taking a seat at a vanity.

“this place is so fucking beautiful.” abby states, starting the conversation as usual.

“so how was everyone's chats? me and cade got surprisingly deep?” she adds, almost saying her last few words like a question.

“i mean that's good, does he match your energy like you wanted?” kaia chimes in curiously.

“oh 1000%, i already feel lucky to have already met someone that ticks so many of my damn boxes.”

“don’t forget it’s day one, you have to get to know everyone else.” clair states, taking leah and abby by surprise.

“damn, didn’t know you were like that.” leah says, flicking her hair behind her head.

“i mean she's right.” you add.

“clair, how is your sitch.” kaia questions her.

“it’s good, we only had a quick chat but he seems chill, i'm just not sure yet.” “why?” abby expresses genuine confusion, “you guys seem like a good match.”

“yes on paper.” she rebuttals, “but i don’t know him yet, i’m typically a grower so it'll take me some time.”

you all nod at her comment.

“so.., kaia, leah, hows your ‘sticky’ situation.” abby asks nonchalantly.

“well, my convo with cyrus went well,

obviously we're attracted to the same guy so i'm not going to hold it against her when she inevitably talks to him.” kaia quickly but carefully responds.

“wait..you haven't talked to cyrus yet leah?” abby asks, trying to get more information.

“he was talking to kaia so i just let it be, was able to pull romeo earlier though.”

abby and clair quickly look at you with those ‘sad’, ‘puppy’ eyes, you gave them a sarcastically confused look in return.

“how did it go?” kaia asks her genuinely. 

“it was good, we have some things in common, i’ll definitely talk to him again, maybe later tonight?”

“don’t forget to talk to cyrus later, i want to see how he’ll move.” kaia persists. 

“how was your chat y/n?” abby quickly takes back the conversation. hearing your name quickly snaps you out of your zone out.

“it was good, we didn’t get to talk much before he was pulled.” you say awkwardly, the whole room going silent for a bit.

“you know who needs to talk tonight?” abby quickly says, breaking the silence.

“you two.” she says pointing at leah and you.

you both look at each other, “the tension is obvious and i'm not having my new girl friends hate each other,

especially over a man.” abby continues.

“i don’t hate her.” you say quickly after hearing abby, you fidgeted with your bikini, suddenly it felt hotter than it already did.

“annnyyyway..” abby drags out the word, trying to get rid of the awkwardness, “leah, how's aidan?”

her face scrunches up and you can already tell what she’s gonna say, “he isn’t for me, too serious, and lowkey boring..” 

“yikes.” abby responds.

“but he expressed interest in clair, so maybe..?” clair’s head immediately snaps up, 

“seriously?”

“oooooo.” you say teasingly, abby joins in with you.

“stop it.”, you notice her flusteredness. 

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you were called to the beach hut for your first confessional, you were nervous to be in front of a camera again, 

yes there were cameras all around you but at least they were hidden.

you walked in and immediately plopped down in the chair, the lighting looked a bit harsh, you wondered if it was flattering or not, 

all you had to do was answer a few questions from the producers, easy. 

“how are you feeling in your couple?” a deep voice from behind the camera questions.

“uhm.” you took time to think about what you wanted to say, 

“good, he makes me feel nervous, which i think is a good sign?”

“how do you feel about sharing a bed in your couple?”

“i haven’t shared a bed with a man in a while so i'm a little nervous, but it’ll be fine.” you quickly respond, trying not to sound like a moron on national television.

you adjust your bikini as the next question is dished out to you.

“how do you feel about leah?”

you awkwardly smile, “she seems nice, we obviously got off on the wrong foot earlier so that's unfortunate. but i'll talk to her, one on one, later, hopefully clear the air.”

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after answering a few beach hut questions it was time to unpack your suitcase, you walk up the stairs and down the hall to find you and all the girls' suitcases lined up against some closets.

you find the one with the big “y/n” on it, grabbing it and crouching on the floor to open it up. that’s when you remember why you’re here, your designs, not for romeo or the friends you were making, 

but to show off your designs.

you think about what rhia would be saying right now, “bitch, get it together, this is work.”, it makes you giggle, 

now you’re sitting on the floor reminiscing, missing rhia and your family. that's when the rest of the girls pile in, interrupting your thoughts, you now think about how many times you’ve been interrupted today.

“unpacking time whoo!” abby exclaims, hyping the rest of the girls up.

clair comes next to you, seeming to notice your somber expression, “you okay?” 

“i’m great, thank you.” you smile at her and she reciprocates it. now it’s chaos, suitcases being thrown open, clothes being snagged onto hangars. 

“what are you guys sleeping in tonight?” kaia asks.

the girls talk over each other at once, “a t-shirt.” is what you reply with, “that's it?”

“no, oh my god.” you quickly say with a giggle.

“i was about to say.” she chuckles over her words.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

evening meant it was time to get ready again, which meant getting out of those bikinis and into something else, you didn’t realize how much your feet hurt until you peeled your wedges off. 

you were sweaty and sticky all day so you decided you needed to shower before changing into something clean. 

you had a quick, soapy, rinse, since you felt awkward, the shower door was clear except for the part that just barely covered your bits.

you quickly put your towel on, deciding to lotion up in the makeup room where the rest of the girls were. minus the tension from this morning you felt really comfortable with them all.

you lotioned up and put on a pair of undies and a bra, the dressing room and the makeup room were connected causing girls to walk back and forth while having conversation, you heard laughter, the sounds of zippers, heels, for some reason it made you really happy, you chose to sit next to clair at the vanities,

just like earlier. she was appreciative. 

you did your hair and makeup at the vanity, the lighting was really nice making you feel extra confident, you decided to wear one of your favorite designs, the girls in the room hyping you up bringing a smile to your face, you adjusted yourself in the outfit making sure everything sat perfectly, grabbing some heels that complimented the rest of your outfit and slipping them on.

you walked in front of a wall length mirror, posing a little,

you looked gorgeous.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you all walked outside, this was the first time you saw it at night and it was beautiful, a little chilly but the fairy lights above the villa made up for it, they were even in the trees!

the kitchen was tucked in a corner between when you first walk out and the day beds, everybody slowly picked off, abby and cade going for a convo first, followed by clair pulling aidan for a chat, you gave her a thumbs up as she walked off with him, six of you still stood in the kitchen, you decided it was time to take leah off for a conversation.

you grabbed a glass off the counter that was filled with champagne and walked over to her, “wanna have our chat?”

��sure.” she replied taking a sip out of her glass, you both walk over to the fire pit a bit away from the kitchen.

“how are you?” you start.

“good.” she replies back

“you look nice.” you compliment her, she was wearing a silver glittery dress with her hair in a bun, 

she really did look nice.

“thanks, you too.” you nod your head appreciatively,  not sure if you should bring up the tension from this morning or ask her to forget about it, you both sit in silence not sure what the other will say.

“sorry..” she says quietly

you snap your head to her, “what was that?” you ask genuinely.

“i’m sorry.” she states it this time.

“why?” you quickly ask.

“i was a sour puss about romeo picking you over me, i shouldn’t have.”

you look at her, then at romeo who was chatting in the kitchen.

“sour puss?” you giggle, you’ve heard the phrase but never heard it come out of someone's mouth before.

“yeah.” she chuckles.

“it’s fine, really, i don’t want us to have any tension or anything, the energy has been so good between us girls.”

“i agree.” she stands up, you follow suit bringing her into a hug. you hear cheering from somewhere, pulling out of the hug, you look around noticing abby and cade, sitting on bean bags that were arranged a little away from the pool.

it makes you and leah laugh. 

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

a little after your conversation with leah, 

you, abby and kaia were chatting at a swing placed on the right hand side of the villa. you and the girls didn’t even notice romeo approaching you, “can i steal you?” 

you look over at him, he was wearing a black dress shirt, and gray pants, he looked nice.

“mhm.” you replied, getting ready to stand up but the girls did it before you. “we’ll go, you stay.” abby says, walking away with kaia as they continue the conversation you were just having. 

“you good?” he questions, sitting on the ‘couch’ swing, it moves when he adjusts himself to face you.

“i’m great, feeling less shy, i guess?”

“i noticed you’re talking a lot more, i'm glad you’re comfortable.”

“me too, i was worried it would take a lot longer.” you go back to forth with him as you notice him observing you.

“you look really nice.”

“thank you..” you say shyly.

“so, how was your chat with leah?” you question, you remember leah telling you “it was good.” so you wondered how he would reply.

“it was nice, she's chill, we have a few things in common.”

“that’s cool.” you comment, not really knowing what to say next.

“how do you feel about sleeping later tonight?” he changes the subject.

“i’m fine with it, i’m actually already really tired.”

“it has been a long day to be fair.”

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you all gathered at the fire pit to play a game of truth or dare, the rules were simple, abby was at the head of the fire pit so she would start first, asking anyone ‘truth or dare’, when they finish their dare or their truth next they can pick any islander to continue the game.

you all sat comfortably around the fire, you sat opposite of abby, next to romeo and of course, clair.

“cade, truth or dare.” abby starts.

he laughs, “of course.” he says knowing she was gonna pick him.

“dare.” he says confidently.

“i dare you to give a lap dance to an islander of your choice.” she winks at him. 

you all laugh and cheer after hearing the dare, he gets up putting his glass on the floor, he stands over abby, moving his hips back and forth, putting his leg behind her and gyrating in her face, you couldn’t stop laughing and you could tell everyone around you felt the same.

he stopped, sitting back down next to her, smirk on his face, grabbing his cup off the ground and taking a sip.

abby was shocked, you could tell because her mouth was basically on the floor, “that was too quick.” she complains.

once cade stops laughing, he looks around, not knowing who to choose, “my guy robert, truth or dare?”

robert scoffs, “truth.”.

“boooringgg.” cade shouts, “have you ever had a threesum?” 

robert chokes a little on his wine, “yes..” he says shamefully, for some reason that shocks everyone.

“damn, my man!” cade exclaims, getting up to dap him up, abby playfully hits him on the arm, making him laugh and sit back down.

the laughter is interrupted by a ring, all of your faces slowly drop, nerves quickly setting in.

“was that you?” robert questions clair.

“i think it was.” she responds.

“i got a text!” clair shouts, “islanders, it’s time for the real games to begin, please welcome your new arrival.” she reads it out ominously, making all you look around at each other frantically. 

your heart goes to your stomach, your mind racing with questions. you adjust your outfit and take another sip out of your glass.

clair continues, “#one out of three.”

“what does that even mean? abby asks, clearly confused.

seconds of silence later a brunette comes from behind the corner, “hi!” he says cheerily

clair looks at you knowingly, you quietly snicker.

everyone slowly stands up to greet him, you take your time adjusting yourself and taking a few more sips before having the courage to walk closer, he daps up the guys and hugs the ladies that have already come up to him, you notice his eyes, they look brown in the night light, his hair, his jawline, you feel flustered.

in your zoning out he already made his way through everyone, you were the only one left to greet, you smiled at him and he smiled back. your mic raised against your chest, rising with each deep and heavy breath.

he put his arms out, you did the same, sliding your manicured hands around his torso, making for a cuddly hug, 

weirdly it felt just right.

who is this new islander?, find out next time on love island.

hope you enjoyed!

[xixovart]

assigning my favorite pjo characters songs based on vibes :))

ignore the lyrics in these. it’s vibes. all vibes. rythm, melody, motifs, instruments

this somehow (unsurprisingly, because it’s me) ended up becoming a psychoanalysis of certain characters but the motif is essentially the same so enjoy!!

NICO DI ANGELO

my all time fav. love him so much.

there’s somehing so gentle but real about the melody in this. the way it feels like early winter at dusk. the way it feels like gentle solo dancing in the kitchen to a melody stuck in your head. the way it feels like braiding a loved one’s hair and talking.

WILL SOLACE

my beloved underrated child

now this one feels like a summer in the suburbs. like puzzles and cheap juice from the market. like the sun blazing on your skin and you’re laughinh and running. like playing that game on the road with chalk. it feels like nostalgia, like longing for an infantile giddiness that is long gone.

ANNABETH CHASE

the woman you are 💗💗💗💥💥😍😍

there are probably better options, but this one can be interpreted as either calm and nostalgic or melancholy and painful. “everything reminds me of you” but do the memories hurt or heal?

HAZEL LEVESQUE

please show this woman some love. she really deserves it

i have no idea why. maybe it’s the way it’s so upbeat? not saying that hazel is a “sunshine character” as the fandom usually puts it, cause she isn’t, it just reminds me of how much she overcame and how much happier she is now than before. she got her happy ending despite literally every single odd. ugh i love her so much.

JASON GRACE

stupid little amnesiac. gotta love him.

again, i dont know why??? maybe it’s the instruments. it’s probabl6 the instruments. but jason is just such a beautiful and kindhearted soul and i think this song embodies that. this song reminds me of every time jason told leo he was important. every time he somehow made reyna laugh before everything happened. makes me think of how he was the first person to unconditionally support nico and the first to make him feel like he’s not the person he’s made out to be. makes me think of how he and leo were the first to actually see and recognize piper. how he made temples for every minor god(dess) he could think of because he understood what it’s like to be forgotten. im not sorry that this turned into a jason grace appreciation post btw.

KAYLA KNOWLES

pls talk about her more plsplsplsplspls

you know im right. you know im right. i dont think i even have to elaborate. this song was written for her. the beat? the instruments??all her

REYNA RAMIREZ-ARELLANO

she. 😍

the feeling of letting something—maybe a person, an era, maybe your whole life in her case it’s all—pass you by because you took it for granted. a melancholy and quiet regret and longing something that is burned and can never be rebuilt, no matter how much you try. it won’t feel the same.

ALEX FIERRO

el mapache humanizado

i have no idea why i said that in spanish but alex is latino so it stays

it’s so? alex?? pls tell me i make sense. becuase like some parts of the song are like just pure teenage dirtbag shenanigans and the prime of your life, but others feel like screaming underwater and pleading for help. ykwim?

anyways yes i never shut up and i love all these songs and i really should go to sleep now because it’s 12:15 but i’m gonna continue reading the odyssey because time is an illusion. see ya losers. love ya.

[thegingerwrites]

for the word ask game, i’d love some vibes if you have them! maybe… sunrise or sunset? ☀️🌙 💕

I tried my best to find you some vibes! I had to widen my search a little to just "sun" because apparently I never just come right out and say sunrise or sunset? I just sort of allude to it? A weird writing quirk I didn't know about myself!

This is from my bb:

Anakin finds himself sitting on sun-warmed stones under dappled light, filtered through the leaves of an Uneti tree in the Temple gardens. It’s springtime, it must be, or else early summer. The weather lovely and temperate but still new.

This part of the Temple is quiet; peaceful in a way that Anakin never appreciated before. He hears the gentle sound of a fountain burbling, wind gently rustling the leaves, the tinkling tones of a windchime, the white noise of Coruscant kept at a respectful distance. Anakin's legs stretch long and lean out in front of him, across a rough-spun blanket, with someone else's legs slotted between his. An infinitely familiar body pressed against his own.

Anakin looks up at Obi-Wan, seated just behind him against the tree. One of his hands strokes at Anakin's curls while the other is wrapped around his waist. The look on his face is sleepy and fond, like he was about to drift off in the peace of the afternoon.

"Were you asleep?" Obi-Wan asks. His voice is soft and low. Anakin can feel the rumble of it where their chests meet. "I was nearly out for a moment there myself."

[fullofbees]

Envy Rots The Bones

You're tired of Levi's self-deprecating rants. Why doesn't he trust your love?

CW: Smut, Demon Form Fucking, Vaginal Fingering, Tail-fucking, Thigh-Fucking, Degradation, Humiliation

Word Count: 4,785 

»»----------► F!Reader

The vibe at RAD was more chaotic than usual.

Unexplained royal duties caused Diavolo to grant the entire RAD campus a three-day weekend. The news filled students with excitement, causing most of them to check out for the rest of the day. Notes were passed, and gossip whispered as the teachers wrote on the board; you’d think it was the last day of school with how they acted. Reminders about homework went ignored as students made plans. It was the only thing anyone wanted to talk about. Multiple requests for your companionship soon came flooding in.

Luke and Simeon wanted you to spend the night at Purgatory Hall, helping them bake some complicated Celestial Realm dessert.

Mammon and Asmodeus were going shopping, and who else better to take than their favorite human?

Satan asked you to visit bookshops with him.

Belphie and Beel… to be honest, you don’t know exactly what they invited you to. At lunch, Beel asked you to join them through a mouth full of food, and Belphie was unfortunately too busy with a midday nap to translate.

Solomon had actually left you alone, surprisingly. But, Lucifer found you later in the day, explaining that Solomon had tried to make plans with him. He refused to be around the sorcerer, so he lied, saying that he already had plans with you. Be a dear, and don’t tell him I’m actually in my office. I have a mountain of paperwork to get done and don’t need any distractions.

You were used to your attention needing to be split seven (and then some) different ways. However, after having to take a total of four exams this week, all you wanted to do was crash, eat junk food, and binge the Devildom’s newest reality show about demons ‘looking for love’. You need to shut in.

Speaking of shut-ins, Levi was probably ecstatic with the news. Knowing him, he immediately would open Akuzon and order the latest game with same-day delivery the minute after getting the notice. You just hope it's not another isekai.

Maybe you should invite Levi to hang out. The rest of the brothers were always insisting on going out, so you feel bad that you never get to stay in with him.

Now that you’re thinking about it, you really miss Levi. The third-born may be awkward, but he genuinely cares about you. He already has trouble accepting that you like and want his company, so a long weekend date would be perfect to show how much you appreciate him.

As you step into the House of Lamentation, you unlock your D.D.D. to text the demon. There is no need, however, as Levi stands in the entrance hall. His eyes widen when he spots you, rushing over so fast that you think he might bulldoze into you. Instead, he stops just before collision, cheeks bright pink as he looms over you.

“I was planning on bingeing anime this weekend. You probably already have some normie plans, but… youcanhangoutwithmeifyouwant. Bye!” With that, he scurries back to his room.

Left dazed in his wake, it takes a minute for you to process what he said. You’re actually proud of him for taking the initiative. Wait, he was already in the foyer when you got home… Was he waiting for you?

You’re going to smooch that man all over his stupid face. But first, you need to get out of this uniform.

Upon entering your room, you set your bag on the table and kick your shoes off haphazardly into the corner. You continue to strip various pieces of your uniform on your way to the dresser. Lucifer won’t be able to perform room inspections, so you can forgive yourself for being a little lazy right now.

You grab a pair of bubblegum pink binding track shorts and slide them on. A self-indulgent purchase for a hot bimbo girl summer that never came to be.

The first brother you wore these around was Asmo when he invited you to his room for a ‘self-care sesh’. He thought they were to die for and immediately pulled a matching tank top from his closet and shoved it into your hands. The memory makes you smile as you pull the tank top out of your drawer and slip it on.

The cami top is the same shade of bubblegum pink. The spaghetti straps are a lighter shade of baby pink, and a matching bow is situated in the middle of the neckline, where the two sides slope into a ‘V’. White lace runs along the hem of the bottom. It is comfortable, cute, and a little flirty. You know it’ll drive Levi wild.

In the bottom drawer of the armoire, stuffed back as far as possible and hidden beneath your underwear, is a secret bag of candy that you have been saving. While Beel is respectful if your name is written on a container, you had spent a handful of Grimm on these chocolates, so you decided to take extra precautions in keeping them safe.

Adding your phone charger to the bag, you send Levi a quick text.

16:08 I’m coming up to your room

16:09 WAIT RESLLY????? *REALLY I didn’t think you’d say yes…

16:09 I was going to ask you to hang out too :)) But you beat me to it lol

16:10 You mean that? Like REALLY mean it?

16:10 I reslly reslly do

Clutching the bag to your chest, you make your way up the stairs and to Levi’s room, eyes wary of any wandering gluttonous demons. You’ll probably still end up saving Beel a piece from each candy. His pout and puppy-dog eyes, when he realizes he’s been left out of snacking, will never not make you feel guilty. It’s another reminder of how wrapped around the fingers of these demons you are, and you love every second.

Only a few steps away from the door, Levi opens it without you having to knock, knowing by the sound of your footsteps that it was you approaching. He watches you skeptically as you saunter in, beelining for the plush bean bags situated in front of his TV.

You collapse onto the bean bag on your stomach, groaning in relief as you stretch out your body. Levi nearly crumbles to his knees at the sight. The friction between your shorts and the bean bag cause the fabric to gather; the space where pillowy thighs and ass meet on full display. He’d dive face-first into your body if you’d let him.

But you wouldn’t let him. He’s just some dumb and awkward otaku with no social skills, why would you ever go for a guy like him? This has to be some sort of practical joke. Mammon and Asmodeus are probably pranking him, hidden cameras waiting to capture his pathetic failure at seduction. There’s no way you’d dress like that around him of your own volition.

Shutting and locking the door behind him, Levi joins you where you sit fiddling with the remotes, his movements guarded as he sinks into the velvet softness.

“I figured you’d have some kind of normie plans with my brothers.”

Did you not just text him saying that you wanted to spend the weekend together? You have no qualms about reassuring your interest in Levi, especially when you know that the demon’s sin makes it hard for him to believe otherwise. However, multiple reassurances in the span of a few minutes were worrying.

Yet the stress of the week is catching up to you, making you abnormally frustrated with his seeming thick-headedness.

“They asked, but I want to stay in and relax with you, is that so hard to believe?”

The demon flusters as he tries to explain himself, “N-No! It’s just that– GAH! How can I even begin to explain to a normie like you...” He sighs in defeat, hiding his reddening face behind his clenched fist.

Taking a deep breath, you force the anger back inside, knowing that he is not the cause and that you shouldn’t take it out on him anyways. You shift in the bean bag, choosing to sit in it upright. However, you end up abandoning it altogether when that doesn’t allow you to be as close as you want to be. The demon’s blush darkens as he watches you briefly crawl over to him, only to kneel next to him on his bean bag. Your knees press into the side of his thigh,

“‘M sorry, Levi. I shouldn’t have snapped like that.” You reach toward his clenched fist, gently prying his fingers from his palm and slipping your own in the spaces in between. “I know you can’t help it, your envy is only natural.”

You bring the back of Levi’s hand to rest against your cheek, his skin cool against the thrumming warmth of your own. “It’s just, sometimes it hurts to hear you speak about yourself like that, you know? Like you don’t trust me to know my own feelings about you.”

Levi clamors, “It’s hard to believe you want me. You’re the most perfect person ever and I’m… not. I’m just a lame and greasy weeb–”

Off he goes on another rant about how ugly, pathetic, and worthless he is. It makes your blood boil. You’re trying to be patient and accommodating; no one learns to love themselves overnight, but it feels like there hasn’t been even an inch of progress in the months you’ve been here.

The longer you let him talk, the more your anger builds. Perhaps being exposed to demons for such an extended period of time isn’t healthy, because as soon as the temptation to explode appears, you pounce on it.

“Ugh! Seriously, Levi!” you groan, “This is what I mean! Is this a game to you?! Or some sort of kink?!”

You stand up and begin angrily throwing your snacks back into your bag, continuing on your own tirade, “You won’t tell me your feelings, you won’t believe when I tell you mine, I don’t know what to do anymore, Leviathan!

In your peripheral you can see Levi shrink into the bean bag, hands clinging to his knees with a vice grip as his body trembles. You think he is about to cry with how low his head hangs, like he doesn’t want you to see. A tiny sliver of sick satisfaction crawls through you.

“You’re going to just let me walk out your door, aren’t you?” You angrily whisper, staring down at him. When he doesn’t answer, you roll your eyes with a loud scoff, muttering to yourself, “Unbelievable.”

A crushing force surrounds your ankle when you make your move to leave. You try to yank yourself free but the hand only constricts tighter, causing you to wince.

Looking down, you see a pale hand with indigo scales and webbing bruising its shape into your skin. Following the pattern of iridescent scales up its owner’s arm, you find Levi staring furiously at you, his pupils almost swallowed by the irradiated orange of his irises. Coral-like horns sprout from his head, parting his hair like seaweed swaying in water. A winding black tail begins to creep up your other leg, violently cold and slimy.

“You are not going to leave me, human,” Levi growls before yanking you back down to straddle him. “You cannot change reality. I am a disgusting otaku, so disgusting in fact that you want to run away.”

Okay, message received; you pushed it a little too far.

“Levi, that’s not–” You struggle in his grasp. Levi’s hands had ensnared your wrists while his tail had shifted to circle your waist, leaving a slippery trail on your skin.

“It’s too late, you’re mine now! It doesn’t matter if I don’t deserve you, I want and will have you anyways!”

Levi’s anger overwhelms him. He tugs you closer so he can nuzzle his face into your cleavage, his usual shy nature taking a backseat to the envy bubbling over.

“Why are you trying to change me into something I’m not?” He bitterly sobs, salty tears spilling down his face and your chest, “Why can’t you love me like this?”

Despite the modicum of fear sweeping down your spine, you realize that maybe Levi hasn’t made any progress because you haven’t made the right approach. The answer is not to start over; Levi’s envy will never allow him to rebuild a new self-image. Instead, you need to work with the emotions he already has and regularly expresses. Do not restart but repurpose.

Steeling your resolve, you now set about your new mission, and pray in the back of your mind that Levi doesn’t use his tail to squeeze you to death.

“You’re right, Leviathan.”

Another choked cry escapes him followed by muffled sniffling. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

“You are a sweaty otaku, Levi. You game all hours of the day. You only watch anime and hentai. You’re obsessed to the point that you forget to shower, to eat, to change your clothes let alone wash your dirty laundry. Worst of all, you’re utterly perverted. It’s hard to believe you aren’t the Avatar of Lust with how often you stare at my ass.”

You try your best to rest your chin on the crown of Levi’s head, the closest thing to an embrace you can manage in your position.

“And I love you anyways, Levi.”

His head snaps up to look at you, confused and red-eyed.

“You may not deserve me, but you are right, you can have me anyways. I want you to have me.”

Levi’s grasp goes slack and you’re able to slip your wrists free. His mouth opens and closes, unsure of what to say. You hesitantly reach for his face, not wanting to startle him. He doesn’t move, so you cup his cheeks with your palms and use your thumbs to wipe away his tears and their forming tracks.

“My poor Leviathan, you’re always so pent up, aren’t you? Bottling up feelings you don’t know how to express,” you coo.

He nods, sighing dejectedly, “I’m never going to be able to give you what you want.”

Pressing a kiss to his clammy forehead, you whisper against his skin, “There’s something I want right now that you can give me.”

“Name it. I’ll give whatever I can. Whatever to make you stay.”

You pull back to look him in the eye, “Can I fuck you, Levi? Can you give me your body? Can we have each other?”

A familiar blush blooms across his face and you fear that the third-born is going to regress into another rant. However, Levi nuzzles his face into your palm, pressing a kiss to your soft flesh.

“In this… form?” He asks meekly.

One of your hands drops to gently caress the length of his tail as it’s situated on your waist. Its rough texture is offset by the frigid mire that naturally clings to it; the sensation is akin to how algae adheres to rocks.

“I like this form. It’s nice to see you all-powerful.”

Levi grumbles, shifting underneath you, “It’s monstrous…”

“I know,” you say, now feeling ready to challenge his self-doubt, “but that’s why I like it. I love every version of you.”

His tail uncurls from your waist, leaving behind a faint trail of ooze on your skin and clothes. Levi’s hands rest on the side of your thighs, idly running along their length as your question replays constantly in his mind. His self-deprecation begs for him to say no; he can’t sleep with you like this, you’ll be tainted just by association. He ruins everything he touches, why would it be any different this time?

“I won’t force you,” you say, interrupting his spiraling thoughts, “But I want you, Levi. I want to show you that I love every aspect of you, even the bad stuff.”

“Yeah,” the demon eventually says, “I can’t say no to you. It’s the least I can do for you for putting up with a loser like me.”

You know better now than to argue his points, he’s not going to believe you. Instead, you wordlessly stand up and remove your shorts and underwear, kicking them off to the side.

Levi’s blush only deepens as he watches you brazenly undress. The glow of the tv behind you highlights your curves in a blue halo. He watches the light dance on your skin as you kneel back down in front of him. You push his legs apart as you climb into his lap once more, though now your back is pressed to his chest.

Grabbing his hands, you bring one of them to cup your breast through your tank top. Instinctively, Levi gives it a gentle squeeze, causing you to giggle. You guide his other hand to rest on your lower stomach, only a few centimeters from your core.

“Okay, Levi, I want you to fuck me with your tail.”

The demon splutters, “I– What? That’s perverted, I can’t–”

“I want you to be perverted right now,” you challenge, “I want you to be a perverted little otaku and make me cum on your tail.”

Levi’s brain short-circuits as you further push his hand lower until his fingers greet your folds.

“I’ve seen you play PC, I know you’re skilled with your hands. You gotta use ‘em to prep me first, stuff me full with your filthy fingers. Won’t my perverted demon spread me open before fucking me?”

His eyes fall shut as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. Your words are degrading, they’re humiliating, but he likes it. For him, it feels like you are finally speaking the truth, accepting his true nature.

So his hand slips through your lower lips, teasing your clit with shy circles and making you whimper. Levi’s hardening cock presses against your back, hips involuntarily rutting against you in search of friction. You meet his thrusts, pushing your bare ass against his clothed cock, which the third-born pathetically moans at.

His finger drags slick from your entrance up to your clit, alternating between methodically slow and brutally overstimulating. The hand fondling your breast finally slides past the fabric of your top to pinch your nipple, causing you to whine deeply. Normally, Levi would be hesitant to twist the bud with the roughness he does now, but both of you are wound so taut that he isn’t afraid of leaving you with marks. He’s going to make sure you take everything he wants to give, leaving sore reminders of him on your body.

Both of you gasp when his index finger slides into you; you for the contrast of his icy skin in your sweltering heat, him for how easily and greedily your body took him in. Levi crooks his finger, pressing into the spongy spot that makes you see stars. You’re quickly becoming a moaning mess on top of him.

“Ah, yes! Fuck, you feel so good! Gimme another? Pretty please?” You croon.

Levi obeys in an instant, sinking another finger into your cunt and marveling at the sticky squelch it produces. He begins to scissor his fingers, stretching your body around his hand. When did you become so wet? The sound makes him shiver below you, rolling his hips against your backside in a particularly rough thrust.

“Do you like how your fingers sound in my cunt, Leviathan?” You mirthfully ask.

“I-It’s– I–” The demon stammers out, too focused on the sound replaying each time he sinks his fingers into you.

Your hand reaches up behind you to grasp Levi’s right horn, making him whimper as the pain forces his attention to you, “Say it, my pitiful little demon. Say you like fucking me with your fingers.”

The pace of his fingers slows as he musters the effort to speak, “I-I love i-it! I love f-fingering you…”

“It’s not enough though, is it? Wish it was your cock fucking me instead, hmm? Filling me up?”

He can feel the pre-cum soaking his through his sweatpants, each tease of your hips creating a new bead that drips down his shaft. Levi nods against your shoulder, panting as he sinks a third finger into you. “P-please… n-need you on my c-cock…”

Your giggle is borderline evil. “Too bad. Start with your tail and maybe you can earn the right to stick your nasty otaku cock in my cunt.”

Levi grits his teeth against your neck as he forces his hand to abandon your body, thin trails of your arousal still clinging to his fingertips as he pulls them away. Replacing his fingers, the demon teases the tip of his tail into your entrance, the cool scales making your body jolt in pleasure.

His tail meets no resistance as it slithers further into your body, causing you to drawl out a low, “fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck…”

Not satisfied with the idea of no longer being able to play with your pussy, Levi’s fingers return to your clit as he slowly drags his tail out of you. You choke on your moan, thighs tensing and toes curling at the overwhelming sensation.

The pace he sets with his tail is brutal, stretching you wider along the length every time he stuffs the appendage back into you. His hand matches this pace, making sure each jolt to your bundle of nerves makes the stretch easier. You want to tease him, to humiliate him a bit more with your words, but each taunt dies on your tongue.

Perhaps you should be the humiliated one. After all, your cunt is shamelessly exposed to the room as Levi uses his tail to fuck you senseless. Any one of his brothers could walk in and see him using you. Don’t you have any dignity? Why did the idea of being his personal fucktoy– his living fleshlight– make you so excited? No human in their right mind should open their body to a demon in this way, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted Leviathan to ruin you.

You’re practically a puddle of incoherent moans and babbling, unsure if the tightening in your lower abdomen was from arousal or from Levi’s tail burying so deep into you. The last intelligible thought that runs through your mind is if you look as fucked out and cock-drunk as the girls in his hentai. You hope you do, knowing how much he’d enjoy it.

The pressure continues to build, tears appearing in the corner of your eyes. Heat licks at your skin and sweat runs down your body, but Levi’s naturally cool state instantly chills the droplets. It, combined with the pleasure, have you shivering uncontrollably, little convulsions tearing through your body.

You vaguely register Levi growling “cum, cum, cum–” against your skin. The demon pinches your clit a final time, your dam finally breaking as your thighs tremble, shudders wracking down your spine. The intense orgasm has you squirting around the demon’s tail, thoroughly drenching his scales in your slick. Eyes rolled back, you collapse against Levi, vision growing fuzzy and a light ringing in your ears.

But Levi doesn’t stop. Though he has removed his tail from you, his fingers play with your oversensitive clit. You’re too weak to try and push his hand away, huffing between overstimulated cries of his name. He quickly forces you through a second orgasm.

The demon brings his fingers to his mouth, forked tongue happily lapping at your essence on his flesh. Levi looks down at your crumpled body, chest heaving with a thousand-yard stare as you slowly come back to reality. He cradles you close to him, still painfully aware of his throbbing erection but waiting on your word. It’s no fun without you, after all.

“Mmm… Levi?” You eventually whisper, voice strained and groggy.

The third-born presses kisses to your face and neck in response.

“What’s next?” You ask.

“Next?” The demon balks.

“You let me have your body, now you can have mine. Where do you want me?” You ask with sincerity too puzzling for Levi’s liking. There’s no way you could want, nor handle, more. But you’re looking at him expectantly, eyes still consumed with lust as you stare up at him from where you’re snuggled against his chest. Leviathan doesn’t know who to thank for answering his prayers. Doesn’t know who to thank for sending him a human that yearns for his defiling touch.

He knows you won’t let him leave your question unanswered, so his mind drifts to ideas of how he could have your body. He flashes back to when you first sat down in his room, how enticing your thighs looked pressed together as your body stretched out. Knowing your cunt is likely already sore, he decides to finally allow himself to indulge in one hentai-born fantasy.

You’re about to boop his nose, noticing his thoughts have run away, when he begins to move. His arm curls underneath your legs, picking you up like you weigh nothing as his hips raise from the bean bag. With his free hand, he pushes down his underwear and sweatpants to his thighs, cock springing free. He sets you back down a little higher than your previous position, legs still spread though now his cock rests heavily against your abused lips.

“D-Don’t move, okay?” Levi asks, as his hands move to the side of your legs. He pushes your legs together, trapping his cock between your thighs. You whimper afterward, his tip now teasingly nestled against your clit.

His tail once again wraps around you, though now along the lengths of your calves, keeping your lower half bound. Grabbing onto your hips, Levi effortlessly rocks them upwards, his shaft deliciously gliding through your folds. He guides your hips back down, his tip roughly tapping your clit as his cock now pushes forward.

You’re thankful that you don’t have to do much as Levi controls the movement of your hips as he fucks your thighs. However, his tight grip makes it impossible to escape the sensation of his cock caressing your debauched bundle of nerves. You attempt to squirm away from the overstimulation, but the demon holds tight, coating his cock in your slick.

Though your head is swimming, you clear your throat and force out some last words, “D-Do my thighs feel good Levi?”

He nods, hissing as his cock glides along your silky flesh, “S-So good, you feel so good.”

“You gonna cum? Be a good demon and cum all over my thighs.”

Levi wishes he could last longer, but your skin is warm and soft against his shaft. Though it will never compare to the feeling of being in your cunt, your thighs are now Levi’s second favorite part of you to fuck.

His pace falters, nails digging into your skin as he hurriedly grinds your folds along his cock, sending you through another convulsing orgasm. Levi feels your muscles twitching in his hands, and the demon finally cums with one last thrust through your thighs. His cum shoots onto your stomach and chest, and the sheer volume of spend sticking to your body has you wondering how long your Levi has been holding back.

…

After what feels like an eternity, sensation returns to your legs, and you’re able to sit up without falling over (though you are still hesitant to stand). Levi grabs your hand, eyes pleading with you not to leave.

“I’m going to get us cleaned up, and then we can watch TSL. Does that sound good?” You ask, giving his hand a little squeeze.

The demon smiles and releases your hand. Using your magic, you summon a wet hand towel, groaning when you realize that you still don’t have enough energy to summon it warm. Levi doesn’t seem to mind though as you run the cool cloth over his thighs and abdomen, before tucking him back into his sweats.

You run the cloth over your torso next, clearing the drying bits of his cum from your skin. You’re almost impressed by the amount that has pooled on you.

Sliding your shorts back on and fixing your crooked top, Levi shoves the ruined beanbag to the side. You both fall back into your previous position on a new one; Levi cradles you on his lap, though now you’re wrapped in a large Ruri-chan blanket. Anime plays in the background as you feed him the snacks you had brought. He doesn’t blush when his hands absentmindedly run along your bare skin, nor does he stammer as he points out each easter egg to you.

You never speak about this again, but he never questions your feelings again either.

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