#which I forget. or haven’t noticed happen before. not sure.

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

I’ve noticed something interesting and so I’m going to write it down to reference later.

Roommate is driving to parents’ house w borrowed kayak; needs help holding kayak in place while they strap it onto their car.

They have to leave ASAP; their family is expecting them by a certain time

Raining very hard outside. Not good for sensory.

Hold kayak in place. Get soaking wet. Can’t move or leave or stim bc kayak will fall. Feel overstimulated.

Finish holding kayak. Watch roommate finish strapping it-

Immediately feel like somebody shoved me underwater. Everything feels muted and fuzzy. My body awareness turns distant.

I am able to recognize this as dissociation and try to ground myself. It kinda works. I can at least move and think somewhat.

Get inside, change into dry clothes.

Dissociation ramps up quickly. Struggle to hold conversation w/ roommate. They go to make a phone call. Body feels distant and heavy. Moving my eyes feels like work; I end up staring at a door handle for multiple minutes, causing optical illusions exacerbated by visual snow.

Clock back in at some point; I think we had a conversation about wisdom teeth before they left.

Body is back and operational. I’m still off-balance from how quickly that happened.

[gay-dorito-dust]

I need more jason headcanons please im on my kneeeeeeess

Honestly what haven’t I said about this beautiful man?

While after a certain period of your relationship he still feels a tad insecure of the fact that one day you’ll find someone who’s…not dealing with as much baggage as him, someone who isn’t as broken and scared as him. He’ll be more open to telling you this as well as in the beginning he was still trying to find his feet in something completely new to him, which lead to a lot of misunderstandings due to the lack of communication.

Now communication was one of your strong suits in your relationship.

Has frequent night terrors that have poor Jason reaching out to hold your hand, or link pinkies to make sure you were still there, still with him and he’ll keep his hand touching you for the rest of the night until the next day where you find yourself being cradled in his arms protectively.

Double checks everything is locked within your apartment, it’s a need and a must on Jason’s checklist to make sure that before you both go to bed, or just you while he heads out on patrol, is to make sure that every lock on every window and door was doing their fucking job because god forbid Jason comes home to a broken in apartment. (This never happens cuz Jason is efficient in taking out his enemies)

He’s a heavy boy thanks to all that muscle he’s obtained and he often forgets this fact about himself when he’s squishing you into the sofa as he cuddled himself into your neck, humming softly as your hands rub his back and up to his hair in a soothing manner until he is half asleep. You don’t mind it as much as he acts as weighted blanket for you and made it a hell of a lot easier for you to sleep at night, knowing this behemoth of a man was deliciously squishing you into the bed.

This man may have gave you a run through do the basics of self defence and weaponry, Jason couldn’t run the risk of something happening to you and so will go out of his way to train you to an acceptable level where he could safely assume that you could handle yourself when he isn’t nearby to help.

Even though he mysteriously and somehow knows where you are…just waiting on the rooftops to make sure that no one was using any underhanded tactics.

Still gets a little jolty when it comes to physical affection but will relax upon seeing that it’s you cuddling up to his broad back and kissing his scars, the one between his shoulder blades being a particularly sensitive one out of the bunch, and one kiss is enough to have him sharply inhale before regaining composure.

Has fallen asleep one too many times with his reading glasses on and his book laid spread against his chest (wish it were me) and it’s not until you say and or do something about it does he notice what he was doing and starts setting aside both his book and glasses to prevent form a state of irreparable damage. He looked really adorable and you have albums of them without him knowing.

You know when Jason’s comfortable with you when he is capable of just sitting in absolute silence with you when he has nothing interesting to say, he doesn’t feel pressured to talk to have your attention, all he has to do is simply exist and you’ll love him nonetheless and it really helps him out a lot because a lot of the time he doesn’t have much to say. So you’ll both sit together in harmonious peace as he reads his book and you do your thing, you both coexist peacefully together and that’s all that matters to Jason in the end.

Loves it when you wear his stuff because when he gets them back he’ll have a reminder of you on them. He just really likes having a reminder of you on him no matter what as it gave him a sense of normality, a sense of purpose and belonging outside of clearing Gotham of its criminals and scumbags. It showed him that he had a life outside of it all.

Hates being mischaracterised as the ‘angry, misguided, temperamental’ type of man because he’s far, far from any of that to begin with and you know that wholeheartedly as Jason rarely gets mad, and even if he did he was quick to apologise in fear that you’ll too believe what everyone else believes. You don’t because you’re not a fucking idiot like most people.

(This is specifically directed to ppl who mischaracterise Jason as the angry robin…go look at dick! He’s the angry one! Jason was the happy one, which makes his whole transformation into red hood even more tragic! You guys simply can’t read and that is proof and yet you call yourself comic book readers…what a fucking joke.)

Gear a little spooked when he doesn’t see you’re in bed and is quick to check the entire apartment before allowing his mind to come to the worst conclusions. so when he finds you in the kitchen or coming out of the bathroom, he’s going to give you the biggest hugs known to man kind before dragging you back to bed where you stay in his embrace, but you don’t mind, if it’s to calm his mind and cool down then you’ll gladly let him hold you as tight as humanly possible. You just wanted Jason to get the rest he deserved and if that meant being his personal teddy bear then you’ll do it.

[f1goat]

kinda hot tho ; lando norris + part two

In which your brother has the most awful new teammate, but you keep finding yourself closer and closer to him. It's only sex - right?

lando norris x fem!verstappen reader trigger warnings: offensive language | player!lando | smut (eventually) | not proofread

a/n: this story is based on another story of mine (his teammate), in the beginning it'll have a lot of similarities, later on this will become less.

4.5k words

masterlist | playlist

Lando can’t withhold a small smile when he notices you standing at the bar in the same nightclub he’s standing in right now. There’s one reason for his smile to disappear. The fact that your brother is standing right now to you and seems to be complaining about him. When he sees you looking around instead of trying to gain the attention of the bartender, he’s pretty sure that he’s right. He lets out a soft sigh and tries to figure out a way to talk to you. After this afternoon, he can’t seem to forget about you. 

“He’s here,” your brother yells at you again. You get it now, but Max is a bit drunk and has the need to tell you everything twice. You’re quick to order another cocktail when the bartender finally looks at you. Only a minute later you’re holding it in your hand and take a small sip. The sweetness does you good. You look around again. This time you spot Lando directly. It causes you to take another bigger sip from your drink. 

Max is getting more annoyed. He’s blabbering about how his new teammate is even ruining his ‘off work’ evening like this. In the meantime you focus on Lando himself. He looks good. You haven’t seem him like this before. He’s dressed in a simple linnen blouse, which makes him look a bit more casual. Before you continue to look, Max is already getting angry again. 

“He’s coming closer,” Max complains. 

“Let’s go somewhere else Max,” you eventually say, “It’s probably better to ignore him.”

Lando does walk closer towards Max and you. It makes you nervous. You’re not in the mood for another argument. Max is already sending him angry glares, but that doesn’t scare Lando off. He keeps walking closer towards you two. 

“Max, let’s go,” you try again, but your brother is still glued to his spot. His eyes don’t leave Lando. This can’t be good. You grab Max his arm and try to pull him away. It’s no use. Max stays on his spot. “This will only bring trouble,” you sigh, “let’s get going.” Max still doesn’t budge.

It takes Lando a couple more seconds to get in front of you and your brother. Lando is focused on your dress while walking towards you. Fuck, it’s short. It makes him imagine what you’re hiding underneath. It also makes him want to poke out everyone else’s their eyes for seeing you like this as well. The white color does something to him as well. He never reacted to something a girl wore like this. It must be the innocent white color. It makes him wonder how innocent you are.

It’s probably one of the first times you see Lando without his RedBull clothing or dressed in a hoodie. Now that he’s almost in front of you, you take a better look at him then before. It annoys you how good he looks in that linnen blouse and those beige pants. You try to shake off the thoughts about his looks. You need to focus, you have no idea what Lando wants. You do however know that your brother will get mad about it.

“Hey princess,” Lando greets you. He doesn’t even look at Max.

That causes you to notice his plan rather quick. He’s using you to annoy Max. Fucking hell. You’re glad that you’ve told Max about what happened between Lando and you earlier today, otherwise Lando could have told him anything by now to make him mad. Not that Max looks pretty calm anyway.

“I told you not to call me that,” you tell Lando annoyed. 

“Oops,” he sarcastically states, “However, I don’t think we were done talking.”

Max scoffs softly, but he doesn’t say anything. He lets you handle this on your own, something your thankful for. 

“I think we were, or were you planning to apologize for how you behaved?” You ask Lando.

“Of course not,” Lando chuckles, “I don’t apologize.”

You notice the frustrated look on Max his face. It’s getting worse with the second. Or better said, it’s getting worse with every word Lando says. Lando however seems to enjoy himself. You let out a small sigh. This needs to stop. Max is going to blow up in no time if Lando continues to act like this.

“Then we have nothing to talk about,” you reply coldly to Lando. You need to end this conversation so you can take Max someplace else and enjoy your night again. Of course you know that Lando is just using you to make your brother more upset, so this really needs to stop.

“You said my dick is small princess,” Lando states, “and I’m still pretty upset about that.” You notice his jokingly tone, but you think Max won’t. Your brother does however let out a soft chuckle, “You said that?” He asks you. You answer him with a small nod. That seems to make Max laugh for a couple seconds. You’re glad that your brother is a bit more relaxed.

“That seems like your problem Norris,” you eventually reply with an annoyed tone. 

“I don’t want you to spread lies about me,” Lando accuses you as serious as he can manage right now. He knows that there’s nothing else then bullshit coming out of his mouth right now, but who can blame him? He wants to talk to you and this is the only subject he got. 

“As if I’m going to talk about you,” you sneer.

“We both know you will,” Lando replies casually.

“In your dreams,” you sigh back. This conversation is taking too long. Max is also back to sending angry glares to his teammate, which seems like a solid reason that you have to leave. 

“Wouldn’t you like that princess? Me dreaming about you..” Lando keeps pushing and pushing. Max is getting more annoyed. And this time, you’re getting more annoyed as well. Why is Lando so busy with using you to get to Max? 

“No,” you tell Lando, “I dream about having nothing to do with you.”

Lando is silent for a couple seconds. That gives you enough time to take Max his attention again. “Come on Max, let’s go,” you tell your brother while grabbing his arm. This time Max wants to join you as well. You both turn your backs towards Lando, finally walking away from him and this conversation. 

“I dream about you finding out how big it actually is.”

Fuck. Lando’s words send shivers down your spine, but that isn’t even what you’re worried about the most right now. His words are more then enough to make Max act on his annoyance right now. You notice the way Max is already balding his fists. You try to get his focus again and leave, but Lando continues to talk.

“So you can properly beg for it,” Lando continues.

That’s all Max needed. He turns back towards Lando and lunges himself onto his teammate. In no time Max has thrown his first punch into Lando’s face. You see how he hits Lando right on the nose. That’s going to look ugly for sure. Lando is quick to react to your brothers actions. He pushes Max off him and balls his fists as well. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol what causes you to react this slow, but you finally realize that you should do something. This needs to stop. When you look at the mess unfolding itself for your eyes again, you realize that you’re fucked. How are you going to stop this? In the mean time Lando and Max are all over each other. They’re both throwing punches around at each other. Lando’s nose is already bleeding. 

You try to grab Max his arm to stop him, but Max is quick to loosen himself from your grip. “Max!” You yell, “Stop!” Max doesn’t even respond to your screams. You take another look at Lando. This is so bad. His face is covered in his own blood. If anyone finds out about this, there will be so much trouble. You already imagine the headlines on the sport channels. Max pushes his arm backwards, trying to give himself a bit more strength, it causes him to hit you softly. He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy with getting Lando on the ground.

“Fucking idiot, you’re hurting her!” Lando yells angrily to your brother. 

Max looks at you. He sends you an apologetic look, you show him a small nod to tell him it’s fine. Lando uses the opportunity to stand up again so he can push your brother again. The small interaction from you and Max is quick to be forgotten. They are both going at it again. 

“Stop!” You continue to scream at them. You feel your throat getting hoarse in the mean time. This is taking too long. Where’s the security of this club? You continue to yell at the boys, but neither of them replies. They continue to fight. When you look around and finally see the security coming closer towards you, you let out a relieved sigh. They are quick to get your brother and Lando away from each other.

When Max is standing next to you again, he already looks a lot calmer then before. He explains his parts to the security guard, telling him all about Lando and his provoking. Eventually the security guard told him it was okay. 

Lando however seems to have a harder time with the security guards. You don’t know what happened exactly, but it’s one big mess. Lando is screaming at them and even pushing them away from himself. You’re not surprised when the security guards are taking him with them to another room. It’s a bad sight, you can only hope that this won’t come down to social media. Max is also looking at everything that goes down with Lando. Slowly he shakes his head. 

In the mean time Lando is still yelling at the security guards. Telling them they need to let go of him. It only makes them hold him better. 

Eventually Max takes you outside with him. The both of you aren’t in the mood to be at the club any longer or to watch Lando his mess even longer. When you take a couple seconds to look at Max, you’re glad to see that he’s okay. You can’t spot any physical damage. It causes you to let out a relieved sigh. You know that Lando is a different case, but that isn’t your problem - right? 

“What are they going to do with him?” You eventually ask Max. It looked kinda scary when the security guards took Lando with them. You wonder what will happen next. 

“I don’t know,” Max answers, “Normally they would just throw him out the club, but I guess he’s in a bit more trouble now because he tried to fight them.”

“So? Will they call the cops?” You continue to ask.

“I guess so? But it’s not our problem,” Max replies.

You let out a soft sarcastic chuckle. “I think it is Max,” you sigh when Max sends you a questioning look. “If Christian finds out, or gets called away to bail Lando out, the both of you’ll be in so much trouble,” you explain yourself, “And if the media is going to find out, it’ll be even worse. So I guess it’s not only Lando his problem, but also yours.”

“Fuck,” Max mutters, “What do we do now?”

It’s always a ‘we’ problem with Max. It wasn’t you who was fighting, so why would you be in problems? You let out a soft sigh. This time you don’t waste energy on telling Max that he needs to figure this out for himself. There’s a small idea already forming in your head. 

“We need to get him out,” you tell Max, “before they call the police or he makes things even worse.”

“How?” Max asks you.

You shrug. This is the hardest part. How are you going to get those security guards so far that they’ll let Lando leave? They are probably mad at him as well. When you look at your own dress again, you notice a small blood stain on the bottom. You curse softly. This was a new dress and now it’s probably ruined. The white color of your dress does make you think about something. Maybe you can use your own innocence to get Lando out of there?

“What if I figure out some sob story and try to get him out like that?” You ask Max, “I could act like he’s my boyfriend or something.” 

Max slowly nods. “Don’t really like it, but is there another plan?”

“Nope.”

“Just be careful, alright?” Max asks you. 

You show him a small nod and start to walk off. When you’re walking back inside the club, you think about letting Max handle his problems on his own next time. Lando has been nothing but a dick to you and now you’re going to help him? It doesn’t make any sense. You can only hope that the security guards will buy that he’s your boyfriend. You need to act really well for this to work. 

+++

“I’m so sorry about all this drama,” you say while looking as innocent and sad as you can manage right now. You’re standing in a small office that’s filled with a couple security guards and - thank god, with Lando. It didn’t took you too long to get inside this office, the problem is probably to get out together with your so called boyfriend Lando. Who is looking rather angrily at you right now. Doesn’t he notice that you’re here for him? That you’re doing this for him? You can only think of one person who would be this ungrateful. Fucking Lando. 

“This is all my fault,” you continue with your sob story. 

“This was your fault?” One of the security guards asks you confused, “You weren’t the one fighting? And certainly not the one who tried to fight with us.”

“I know,” you say, “but I’m so sorry about everything that happened. This is all because of me.” You make sure to blink a bit more to give them the impression that you’re fighting against tears. You even wipe away a non existed tear while still making eye contact with the security guard in front of you. 

“Explain it,” the security guard orders you. 

Lando feels himself getting ready to fight those security guards all over again. The way they are all staring at you. The way that ‘main’ guy is ordering you. He can think about multiple reasons to fight them again. Mainly because they keep checking you out.

You however are ready for the most important fase of your plan. This is it. Now you really need to act like you mean it. You nod slowly at the security guard. You don’t want to say those words, but you have no other option right now. Lando is still looking angrily at everyone around him. This time you try to get eye contact with him. You don’t dare to look at the others right now, you’re too afraid that they’ll catch your lie by your nervous looks. 

“Lando is my boyfriend,” you state. Lando his earlier angry look is quickly replaced by a confused one. You try to communicate to him that he needs to play along, but you don’t think you can message him that without using words. Still, his confused look is replaced by a more normal one. “And the guy who was fighting him, that’s my brother,” you continue to explain. 

“They don’t like each other,” you go further with your explanation, “and that’s why we kept our relationship a secret. It pained me so much, but we thought this was better. Tonight my brother accidentally found out…” you take s short break to fake a sob before you continue to talk. “He was so mad,” you softly say, “There were some nasty words between everyone of us. My brother called Lando a player and then Lando told my brother he loved me.” You try to think of different sad situations. It doesn’t take you to long before there are some tears rolling down on your cheeks. You wipe a few of them away before going further.

Lando is looking full disbelieve at what’s happening in front of him. He wants to say that it annoys him, but in some weird way he can’t. He secretly loves to see this side of you. He’d never think that you are able to do this. You’re lying and manipulating those security guards, making up some story in which he’s your boyfriend. Who would have thought?

The only part he doesn’t like is the way those security guards keep looking at you. He understands it, of course he does because he can’t stop looking at you himself, but it annoys the shit out of him. It’s pretty obvious to Lando how you even managed to get the attention of the guards. It’s probably also the reason that you’re still getting their attention. That fucking dress.

“My brother got even angrier when Lando said that,” you continue, “That’s were everything went wrong. I’m so sorry.”

You expected many questions about your story, maybe why your brother doesn’t like Lando or something. But it seems like the first question is rather easy. 

“You’re really in a relationship with him?” One of the security guards asks you. 

Lando doesn’t like the tone of the guy. Is it that unbelievable that you’re in a relationship with him? It’s not like he’s way too ugly for you or something. Although, it’s hard to level with a girl as pretty as you. 

“Yes,” you reply as confident as you can manage, “Almost a year now.”

“I pity you,” one says, “I can’t imagine how a girl like you ends up with someone like him.”

“Oh fuck off,” Lando scolds, “You don’t even know me.”

You send Lando an annoyed glance. You’re getting pretty far but if he says something stupid everything can be ruined again. Before Lando can continue or you can say sorry for his behavior, he’s already shut down by one of the security guards.

“Shut it, we’re talking with her and not with you.”

Lando wants to reply again. He really does. He wants to tell those security guards that he’s not stupid, that he knows that they’re talking with you because of your looks and not because of the sob story. He wants to tell them how pathetic they are. He has so much to tell them, but when he sees your annoyed face he’s quick to drop it. A soft sigh leaves his mouth. It’s no use. You’re trying to help him so he can get away from here, it won’t help if he’s going to pick another fight with the security team. 

“He’s not always like this,” you eventually try to joke, “It’s the adrenaline from before and probably the alcohol.”

Most of the security guards nod at your words. There’s however one who’s still looking like he doubts you. You hope that he’s keeping his silence. 

“I’m really sorry about everything,” you continue to apologize, “I just wanted a nice night out and now everything is fucked. Can I please just take Lando home with me?”

“We already called the cops,” someone states. 

Fuck. There goes your plan. Without noticing it, you and Lando let out a soft sigh at the same time. What can you do now? You’re almost crying for real this time. How are you going to fix this? You try to think about all kind of sad stuff so you look as sad as possible. When there are tears rolling on your face, you continue to speak to the security guards.

“I get it,” you sob, “Do you think I can pick him up there later?”

“I guess that will be tomorrow,” one replies to you.

“Fuck,” you mutter. Now you really need to improvise. Christian will kill your brother if Lando has to stay with the cops during the night. “My.. my brother just told me I can’t stay with him anymore,” you stutter while improvising. Before continuing you make sure to sob another couple times. “I don’t have anywhere to sleep,” you add.

This time most of the guards look at you with a look full with pity. One of them walks towards you and puts his hand on your shoulder. It’s probably meant well, but it causes you to shiver - and not in the nice way Lando causes you to shiver. You take a look at Lando, who’s already looking back at you with an angry face. You wonder what he found now to be angry about. It seems that he’s pretty good in finding things to be angry about. You take a small step to lose the hand of the guard in the mean time.

“You know what,” the guard eventually says, “If you promise me that you’ll take him home, then I’ll let it slide for this time.”

“Yes,” you’re quick to reply, “Of course!” 

Lando is quick to stand up. This time no one stops him. Slowly he walks towards you. It makes you feel nervous. What if he’s mad at you for intervening like this? He didn’t look to happy while you were talking with the security team… You just hope that he can save it for when you’re back outside. Before Lando stands next to you, there’s someone talking again. 

“Let them prove they’re in a relationship.” You’re quick to realize that this is the security guard who looked weirdly at Lando and you before. Fuck. 

“Is that really necessary?” You react quickly.

The other security guards chuckle. The one who told you that it was okay reacts as well. “Okay, prove your relationship and then you get to leave.”

Fuck. What now?

Lando is already standing next to you. He’s annoyed by the request - or better said the task, but he does know a rather simple solution. He turns his body more towards yours. You show him a confused look. Lando wonders if you’re okay with what he’s about to do, he can only hope so. When he’s standing closely in front of you, he tries to ask for your permission with his eyes. He raises his eyebrows, hoping that you get the hint. When he sees a small nod from you, he’s quick to continue with his plan.

You wonder with Lando is about to do. It seems like he has a plan, but you have no idea what. Then you notice his face coming even closer towards yours. When you feel Lando his lips against yours, you can safely say that you weren’t expecting this. Fuck. The dickhead teammate of your brother is kissing you. That seems like a problem, but you have a bigger problem to focus on. Why are you enjoying it?

You can’t stop yourself and let your hands wander until they reach Lando his hair. Softly you play with his hair. Lando deepens the kiss. You feel his tongue asking for permission, something you grand him rather fast. His hands are on your back, pulling you into his own body as much as he can. It causes you to let out a soft moan. Fuck, why is this feeling so good? You’ve never been kissed like this before.

Lando feels a small vibration coming from you, was that a moan? He wants nothing more then to pull out more moans from you. It surprises him that you’re letting yourself go in the kiss with him. But that isn’t the thing that surprises him the most right now. He can’t seem to focus on the fact that this is fake and meaningless. He wants this to be real. Why did no other girl make him feel like this during a kiss? This can’t be good. 

When the both of you hear the security guards chuckle and clap, you’re quick to pull back from the kiss. With a new found confidence you look at the one guard who doubted you, “Believe me now?” You ask him with the same confidence. The guard can only show you a small nod. 

Lando is the one who lets out a soft chuckle now. He looks at you before pressing a small kiss against your forehead. “Let’s go princess,” he softly tells you. This time the nickname doesn’t sound sarcastic and even more strangely, you feel something flutter inside of you while hearing it. Lando takes your hand into his and walks outside with you. 

When the both of you are standing outside again, Lando is quick to drop your hand. He turns until he’s facing you. “Don’t even do that again,” he tells you angrily.

“You’re welcome Lando,” you reply annoyed, “and what exactly do you mean? Because I believe that you’re the one who was kissing me.”

“You don’t even know what you just did,” Lando rants, “Don’t ever try to use your innocence again with security guards like them. What if they had other plans for you? Do you even know how fucking hot you look in that short dress? You’re lucky those guards didn’t touch you or something.”

You don’t know how to respond. Lando is exaggerating, but you realize that there’s a small truth hiding in his words. However, you can only focus on how he called you ‘fucking hot’. 

“It went alright like this.” Lando shakes his head at your words. “I guess you’re more busy with checking me out then those guards,” you add sarcastically. 

“You’re so stupid,” Lando reacts annoyed.

“It went fine,” you continue to argue.

“No!” Lando yells now, “Just go home and never go back to this fucking place. I saw how uncomfortable that one security guard made you by just touching your shoulder, so don’t tell me it went fine.”

You’re stunned. How did Lando notice that? 

“This wasn’t for you,” you eventually state.

“So fucking stupid,” Lando continues to mutter.

“What did you want then? That the cops called Christian to bail you out? Then you and Max could have spend another day talking again.”

“Fucking stupid.”

“A thank you would be a nicer response you know,” you sigh annoyed.

“I don’t do thank you’s,” Lando states.

“Of course Norris, how could I forget that you don’t have any manners,” you sneer, “Whatever. I’m going back to Max. Just stay out of trouble, because I won’t do this again.” You start to walk away from Lando, it’s only when you hear his voice once more that you turn around again.

“Bet that you’ll kiss with me again someday.”

You don’t reply. You should be turning back to him, getting mad about his stupid remark and assuring him that you’ll never kiss with him again. But, you can’t. The thing is, you already can’t stop thinking about kissing with him again. 

“Princess?” Lando asks. He wants some sort of reaction, he hates it to be ignored.

“Don’t,” you sigh, “Just let me leave.”

“Without a goodbye kiss?” He jokes.

You sigh. The first kiss was fake. There’s a story behind it to make sure of that. If you turn back now and do what you want to do, then it won’t be fake anymore. You do want to feel his lips on yours again, but you can’t. 

“Goodnight Lando,” you eventually say before walking off. 

tags: @alex-wotton / @landoslutmeout / @booksandflowrs / @itsjustfranzi / @silentreader128 /

@leonie404 / @itssuee / @jule239 / @joyeuxfics

[tortillamastersblog]

🕸 Nerd | Peter Parker 🕸

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Peter running into you at the Avengers Tower turns out to be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. . .

________________________________________________

“Oh! I’m so sorry.”

I stumble backward with a strangled yelp, managing to grab onto the corner of the wall just in time to stop myself from falling on my ass. “What the hell?” I look up, ready to chew out whoever just ran into me only to bite my tongue when my eyes land on a panicked looking Peter Parker.

His brown hair is disheveled and his eyes are wide and even though he almost just bulldozed right over I can’t help but think that he looks rather funny being embarrassed and flushed like this.

“I’m so sorry!” he apologizes again, reaching out as if to help me stand but I’ve long since regained my balance, so I wave him off.

“It’s-“ I swallow, hating the effect his brown eyes are having on me-“ fine. I’m fine.”

If he were anyone else I would have given him a piece of my mind because I’m in an exceptionally bad mood at the moment, but he’s just so sweet I can’t be mad at him.

My dad’s told me stories about him (he secretly loves him even though he claims he’s annoying and overly excited all the time) and even said we’d probably get along really well, but up until now we haven’t ever met each other.

“Are you sure?” he asks, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

I sigh and nod. “Yes, I’m sure.“

“Good. . . Good.” He nods as well and looks around awkwardly before snapping his eyes back to me. “I’m Peter, by the way.”

The fight between me and my dad momentarily forgotten, I take his awkwardly outstretched hand and shake it with a gentle smile. “I know.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “You do?”

I release his hand and watch him fumble with the straps of his backpack. “Yeah. My dad talks about you all the time.”

“Y-Your dad?” he stammers which makes my lips twitch upward again.

“Uh-huh. Does Tony Stark ring a bell?” I ask and the way his eyes widen is almost comical.

“Your dad is Tony Stark?” he exclaims loudly which makes one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents nearby look in our direction. Realizing he might have been just a little too loud, he lowers his voice sheepishly and hisses through his teeth, “Tony Stark? The Tony Stark.”

I roll my eyes playfully, knowing now what my dad meant when he told me about Peter’s abnormal enthusiasm, and pull him aside when the aforementioned agent walks by us to get to the elevator. “Yes, the Tony Stark is my dad.”

“So you’re Y/N,” he guesses with a bright smile.

I chuckle and drop my chin to my chest to hide the growing blush on my cheeks. I’m not surprised he knows my name because if my dad tells me about Peter I’m sure he also tells Peter about me, but the way he just said my name with that goofy smile on his faces makes my stomach flip. “The one and only, yes.”

“Wow,” he gasps quietly. “So is it true that you have your own Iron Man suit?”

Looking back up I feel another wave of heat rush to my cheeks at the amazement on his face. “Yeah, but dad never really lets me use it. . . Says it’s too dangerous.”

The fact that he can fly into literal gunfire but I can’t even go out for a test flight on my own is the reason we got into a fight just before my run-in with Peter.

It’s not like I want to fight crime— well, maybe I do but only small crimes like car jacking or vandalism— but I can’t even go out and fly on my own because I apparently have a target on my back 24/7 just because Tony is my dad.

I feel another wave of irritation threatening to wash over me, but then I notice the way Peter’s eyes light up at the revelation and I once again forget all about the fight.

“Do you- do you want to see it?” I ask, cringing at how unsure I sound. I barely know him and he might not even want to hang out with me, but much to my surprise, Peter nods excitedly and yanks on the straps of his backpack.

“Do I— Yes, of course! I’d love to see it. Where is it? Is it in your room? Or do you have your own lab or something? Hey, have you ever met Black Widow before? She’s awesome, but you probably know that because you live here and she’s here all the time and your dad is literally Tony Stark so you must know all the Avengers. . .”

Laughing at his rambling, I tug on his open flannel and lead him to the elevator.

A knock on the window makes me look up from the book in my lap and I smile almost instantly when my eyes land on who’s dangling outside of it, upside down and without his signature mask.

“Spiderman,” I tease when I open the window to let him inside. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

He was just here yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that one. He’s basically been here every day since we met a month ago, but I’m not complaining.

He’s sweet and funny and undeniably cute, but what he could possibly want this time of night I don’t know. It’s also a bit weird that he’s coming in through the window rather than the front door the way he usually does.

Peter grins and climbs in through the window. “Oh just stopping by.”

I scoff playfully and close the window again to shut out the chill of the night he dragged in. “You know my dad won’t be happy when he finds out you’re sneaking in to see me.”

At the mention of Tony, he cringes. “Well. . . I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Ha, fat chance! I haven’t talked to him in a couple of days because he’s holed up in his lab with Bruce,” I explain.

Peter makes a sound between a grunt and a hum to acknowledge what I just said before taking off his backpack and jumping on my bed.

“Hey, no!” I exclaim, yanking on his leg to get him off the bed. “Your suit is all dirty and I just changed my sheets.”

Peter laughs, but gets to his feet anyway before looking around helplessly. “Well, where am I supposed to sit then?”

Looking over his soot stained suit again, I sigh and point at my desk chair. “Just wait here for a second.”

He does what he’s told and lets his brown eyes follow me as I make my way to the door of my room. I slip out, telling F.R.I.D.A.Y. to keep an eye on Peter whilst I make my way down the hallway to a supply closet.

I open it and pull out a hoodie and a pair of Avengers sweatpants. They match what I’m wearing save for my initials stitched on the chest of my hoodie.

“Alright, so— Peter?” I stop when I return to my room and he isn’t where I left him.

“Y-Yeah! Right here,” he answers, popping out from behind my suit in the corner. “Sorry, I just noticed that you updated some stuff and I wanted to take a closer look.”

I chuck the clothes at him and smile fondly. “You’re such a nerd.”

He catches the clothes, if not a bit clumsily and pulls an offended face. “Hey! I’m not a nerd.”

I raise my eyebrows incredulously and plop down on my bed. “Oh, yes you are. You’re like the king of nerds.”

Peter scoffs and starts stripping out of his suit right down to his underwear, making my brain short circuit for a moment before I quickly avert my eyes.

“Okay fine. I might be a nerd but if anyone is the king of nerds it’s you. We’re literally the same age and you’ve already graduated from high school,” he argues with a chuckle, obviously not noticing the sight his shirtless chest and abdomen have on me.

I swallow thickly, trying to get rid of the sight of his abs in my mind before replying quietly. “We’re sixteen It’s hardly impressive graduating at that age. There was this girl last year who graduated at thirteen.”

The mattress dips as Peter takes a seat next to me and when I catch a glimpse of his sweatpants covered leg I know it’s safe to look up again without catching another glimpse of his shirtless body. “Don’t do that,” he says seriously. “Don’t put yourself down like that. You’re incredibly smart and I know you’ll go on to do great things in life.”

Warmth spreads in the pit of my stomach and when I look up to meet Peter’s eyes I realize that he’s already staring at me intently. His eyebrows are set in a barely noticeable frown and his piercing brown eyes dart between my own with an unfamiliar look in them.

Trying to diffuse the sudden tension between us, I whisper, “That was so cheesy,” but it comes out more breathy than I intended.

“Yeah?” he says lowly, without breaking eye contact. “Well, it’s still true.”

So much for diffusing the tension. . . I can practically hear my own heart pounding in my chest and when Peter’s eyes flick down to where I subconsciously just licked my lips, I feel a shudder run through my body.

We’ve had little flirtatious moments before, teasing each other relentlessly or tackling each other with excessive hugs, but there’s never been this silence between us.

This unspoken attraction and yet I can’t help but revel in it.

I like having his attention on me and I like the way he laughs even when I tell a horrible joke, so without thinking much of it, I close my eyes and lean forward to connect our lips in a short peck.

Peter freezes and when I pull back I think I might have made a mistake, so I hold off on opening my eyes just yet, but then his lips are back on mine and he’s moving them gently, coaxing me into kissing him back.

I gasp and raise my hands to touch his jaw, pulling him closer until we’re awkwardly lying on the bed with our feet still dangling off the end.

Peter is half on top of me, his hands on my waist and his hip pressed against the side of mine, but before the kiss can deepen he pulls back and presses his forehead against mine.

My lips tingle and I instantly miss the feeling of his lips on my own, but I have to catch my breath, so I keep my eyes shut and enjoy the feeling of his breath on my cheek.

“I—“

“Look—“

I chuckle when we both try to speak at the same time and open my eyes to find him already watching me fondly.

“Please, say what you were going to say,” I whisper, slipping my hands from his jaw and to the back of his neck.

Peter smiles shyly and averts his eyes for a second to gather his thoughts. “I-I actually stopped by because. . . well, I’ve liked you for quite some time now and we’re really great friends, but I was always to afraid to say something, but then Aunt May told me to just go for it and I was in the neighborhood tonight so I thought— I wanted to— I was going to—“

“Oh my God, Peter, breathe!” I scold quietly, smiling up at him when his eyes meet mine again.

“Right,” he laughs softly. “Sorry. You see— I came by because I. . . Iwaswonderingifyou’dliketogoonadatewithmesometime.”

“I—What?” I laugh, running my fingerst through the hair at the back of his neck.

Peter huffs and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. “Will you— I mean, would you like to go on a date with me sometime?” His voice is quite, barely above a whisper, but I hear him and the smile that instantly lights up my face makes him smile, too.

“I would love to go on a date with you,” I say and before I can take it back (not that I ever would) Peter’s leaning down once more to connect our lips in another kiss.

His hands roam my waist, respectfully of course, and I tug him closer by the back of his neck, wanting to deepen the kiss when, out of nowhere, my door flies open and we’re forced to break apart to look at whoever just burst in.

“What’s going on here?!”

“Oh shit! I-I can explain,” Peter yelps, scrambling off me.

I just chuckle and let my head fall back onto the bed. “Ever heard of knocking, dad?”

________________________________________________

Peter is honestly such a cutie. He didn’t deserve what happened to him at the end of No Way Home.

[ginax0916]

Can you do a story where the reader has low iron or something of that genre and she passes out and chris comforts her? 💗

･:*:｡𝐈’𝐦 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞ೃ࿔*:･

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!reader

Genre - Fluff

Synopsis- reader has low iron and passes out but Chris is there to comfort her :)

I’ve been hanging out with the triplets all day. We have been watching movies and we even filmed one of their Wednesday videos and pre filmed a Friday car video. Which all took a lot of time and energy. I’m guessing that explains the reason to why I feel so tired. I just feel like my bones are giving out. Like I have no strength. Not to mention every time I stand up I feel the need to grab on to something because everything is spinning. I keep getting dizzy and my vision is starting to blur and then come back. But I really just think I need a nap and I’ll be fine.

“Hey you in there??” Chris snaps me out of my thoughts.

“Hm? What’d you say?” I question him.

“I asked if you wanted to to go out to eat with us, we’re gonna go to the diner downtown” Chris said smiling.

“Yea sure I’ll go” I answered.

I stood up and immediately felt dizzy. The room was spinning in endless circles and my vision kept blurring out. I felt two arms grab me to keep me from falling.

“Woah you ok?” Chris asked with a worried expression as he kept his hands on my arms making sure I wouldn’t fall.

“Uh yea yea just felt dizzy but I’m fine” I replied trying to ignore what just happened to avoid any more questions.

As Matt drove us all to the diner I stared out the windowing thinking to myself. Could this all have something to do with my anemia? I’ve had low iron my whole life and just recently I had gotten diagnosed with anemia but I really don’t think much of it. I usually forget I even have it because nothing ever happens.

“We’re here” Matt said already getting out of the car.

Focused on unbuckling myself and grabbing my phone I didn’t realize Chris had opened the door for me. I thanked him before getting out of the car. And there it is. That feeling again where I feel like my knees are giving up and my visions is fading. I grab onto Chris’s arm to try and stable myself. He grabs my hips helping me stay still. My body feels weak and I lean on Chris for support. He wraps his arms around me helping me gain stability.

“You sure you’re feeling ok ma? You keep losing your balance when you stand up, something wrong?” He asked frowning. His eyes searching my face for any uncomfortable expression that could possibly give him answers.

“I just keep feeling dizzy when I stand up but I’m good” I smile at him. Though deep down I know somethings wrong I just don’t wanna burden anyone with my problems.

“You guys coming or what!” Nick suddenly yells snapping us out of our conversation.

We all ordered and ate our food and we were just waiting on the check. Nick and Matt were having they’re own convo about some video ideas they were both laughing about. Suddenly I felt a tap on my thigh and looked up.

“Ok what’s wrong? You look tired, you haven’t said a word, and you keep getting all dizzy y/n” Chris asked really starting to worry now.

“You won’t tell anyone?” I shyly asked looking down.

“Not a single soul baby” He chuckled, the nickname making me blush.

“I’ve been feeling off lately and I think it all has to do with my anemia” I said embarrassed. Chris noticing it.

“Why’s that embarrassing? It’s pretty common y’know?” He said rubbing my arm soothingly.

“I just don’t wanna burden you with my issues” I admit.

“Y/n are you insane? You’re not burdening anyone with anything. If anything I’m here to help you ok?” Chris said with a big smile on his face.

“Thank you Chris”

“Alright you guys ready to go?” Matt asked as he left a tip for the waiter on the table.

“Yep let’s go”

That’s when things started to go down hill. The car ride felt like hell. I was sweating like crazy but I felt cold. Then my hands were shaking and my teeth were chattering but I felt like I was boiling. My breathing started to become unsteady. I felt nauseous too. Every possible feeling you could have I was experiencing it. As soon as we arrived I opened the door to get out, and my knees locked. My vision started going black. Like everything was being painted black. I held onto the car trying to get support but it was no use.

“Oh fuck” I heard Chris say before everything went dark.

Chris Pov:

“Oh my god oh my god what do we do? Is she dead? Do I call 911?” Nick panicked like always.

“No it’s fine it’s just her anemia it’s happened before we just have to bring her inside and lay her down. Matt go open the door” I said as I grabbed her and carried her bridal style inside the house.

I knew something was wrong. Since the second we finished filming those videos I could tell she wasn’t feeling well. I just wish she would’ve told me instead of feeling like a burden.

I laid her down on the couch and put a blanket over her. I felt her forehead and it was really cold so I went and wet a towel with warm water and placed it on her head carefully. I gently held her cheek in my hand rubbing it softly with my thumb.

“Oh poor thing” I said quietly.

I got the towel off her head and sat next to her waiting for her to wake up. Its been around 5 minutes and I’m starting to think maybe I should call 911.

“Chris?” I quiet and fragile voice said.

“Oh my god y/n you’re awake” I said, careful not to startle her.

“Are you ok baby? Does anything hurt?” I asked holding her face in hands as she sat up. She sniffled and tears started to slowly fall down her delicate skin.

“Oh ma c’mere. It’s ok I’m right here. I got you, you’re ok pretty girl” I softly talked to her, rubbing her back soothing as I cradled her in my arms.

“I hate when that happens” She managed to get out between cries.

“I know I know I do too” I agreed with her and wiped tears off her face.

“Take deep breathes ma, can you do that for me?” I moved her body so she was now sitting on my lap comfortably.

“Yes” Y/n mumbled snuggling her head into the crook of my neck making me smile.

“Good girl” I praised her.

Soon enough the tears stopped and her breathing was back to normal.

“Thank you Chris” She said as she planted a soft kiss on my jawline.

“I told you I’m always here”

Was this too long? Ty for the request by the way I hope what I wrote is somewhat what you meant 😭 Also Tysm for all the support on my last post it means the world to me. Pls keep requesting it rlly helps 🫶🏻🫶🏻

[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.

[euseol]

␥ ᡣ𐭩 reconnecting our love ── park wonbin smau

synopsis ᝰ.ᐟ after being forced to break up because of the public, jung yn just can’t seem to let park wonbin go.

word count ᝰ.ᐟ 909

note ᝰ.ᐟ thank you guys so much for 100+ followers 🥹🫶🏼

07 YN, ARE YOU OKAY?

“is everyone ready?” the manager called out as the members were rushing out the door with their bags. two suitcases were thrown into the trunk as everyone were heading inside the van.

“manager-nim, can we stop by for a minute to get fried chicken? we’re starving..” eunseok asked as he volunteered before. the manager shut the van door and looked back at the members who were already giving puppy eyes.

he let out a sigh, “we’re gonna be running late if we do that. i’m pretty sure the airport food is delicious.” he said, and he could hear the members whining.

“but manager-nim,” shotaro pout, “we haven’t had fried chicken in so long! and plus, we all want yangnyeom chicken, wonbin’s favorite! i doubt we’ll be able to find it in paris.”

“please manager-nim,”

the manager let out another sigh before turning on the van, “alright, fine. but we will be a few minutes late so once we arrive at the airport, no dilly-dallying, got it?”

finally, the members pouts went away and instead was replaced with a smile on their faces as they all agreed. “yes manager-nim!”

after a quick pit stop to get some fried chicken, the group finally arrived at the airport. however, since they were a little late there was only a few paparazzi waiting outside for them. as soon as they got out of the van, the few paparazzi who were waiting for them started shouting their names, which caught the attention of everyone else who were in the airport. it seemed like someone arrived before them.

ahead of the group were another small group of girls. who seemed to be you, sakura, nayeon, and karina. you immediately noticed the presence of the group and cursed to yourself.

“why did they have to arrive at the same time as us?” you mumbled underneath your breath but sakura, who was standing beside you, heard everything.

“hey yn, you were gonna see them sooner or later. did you forget they are on the same flight as us?” sakura asked, and you did happen to forget.

before you could say anything else, your manager was already telling you to hurry up and walk. you stared at the paparazzi’s flashing lights as you walked inside of the airport. you were met with a gush of swarming people already running towards you, but little did you know riize was right behind you guys.

suddenly the fans started to push and shove you out of the way so they could meet with the idol group. nayeon had a worried expression on her face as she watched the scene unfold. no one else was getting pushed except you, which made nayeon and everyone else upset.

your manager and the bodyguards tried to escort you as safely as possible, but the fans and paparazzi were too much at the moment. it’s not like they were ignoring you, they were still trying to talk to you and take pictures but they were also trying to hurry up so they could get a view of the group behind you.

you were so overwhelmed by the fans pushing and shoving you to the point you fell to the ground.

“oh my gosh yn are you okay!?” sakura shouted amidst the screams from the fans as she helped you get up. the bodyguards quickly circled around you guys so no one else could get hurt.

you got up from sakura’s help as nayeon and karina looked at you with concern plastered on their face. there was absolutely no time to talk so you gave them a reassuring signal that you were fine before having to move again.

riize, who was right behind you, witnessed everything and wonbin couldn’t help but stare at you in concern. he was too busy staring he didn’t even notice the swarm of people coming his way and the bodyguards circling around him and the members for protection. he couldn’t believe the situation that was unfolding and unknowingly glared at everyone.

shotaro noticed this and rest his hand on wonbin’s shoulder, “you’re making it obvious.” he said and the other snapped back into reality. “did you not see what happened just now? yn fell over because of these people!”

shotaro also glared at the people before returning back to wonbin, “yeah, i did. it’s crazy but if you glare at everyone like that you’ll start something again on the internet.”

the boy couldn’t have cared less as he continued to glare at the fans and paparazzi, showing in plain sight that he was disappointed and pissed off at their actions. it only took a few more minutes before they were out of the fan’s sight and waiting at their gate already.

sungchan noticed wonbin’s expression, “you good man?”

“mhm.”

shotaro signaled sungchan to leave the other alone for now as he was recollecting his peace. eunseok set the container of the chicken that they got earlier next to wonbin so he could eat and calm down.

“well, this is not what i wanted it to be like when i said airport here we come.” anton joked a little to sohee and seunghan who were just silently watching the others.

suddenly wonbin pulled out his phone and sungchan couldn’t help but be nosy and subtly watch him. he watched as he opened up his messages and scrolled through them, trying to find a certain person.

and let’s just say, sungchan looked quite shocked.

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[littlereaderxfandoms]

L.B.L.

Request (by @spencers-bookworm): Hi! I seen you wanting requests so what about spencer x bau!reader were reader has a bad day at work and ends up hiding and regressing in a storage cupboard or something. Spencer comes and finds them, comforts them and takes them home to have some much needed caregiver and regressor time.

I also just want to say I love your blog so far and really appreciate what you're writing as I feel there's never enough x reader age regression fics.

Little!reader x CG!Spencer (+ BAU team + precinct people)

Summary: Your day goes horribly horribly wrong and Spencer has to intervene.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort (?)

Length: Around 1k

Nothing was going right. First, you spilled your coffee all over your white cotton shirt. Then, you found out that you forgot your go bag at home. Then, you had to borrow a shirt from Morgan because none of the ladies were in yet, and nor was Spencer, which was very embarrassing. And then, you got a stern scolding from Hotch for forgetting your go bag at home when you needed to immediately leave for an urgent case where even the briefing would happen on the plane. If that wasn’t bad enough, the other detectives and police officers at the precinct were picking on you whenever you were alone.

It was no surprise that you broke down. And it was especially no surprise to Spencer because he knew that you haven’t had the chance to regress in quite a while. So when he got back from the latest crime scene and Emily told him that you were in the storage closet because you needed some space, he knew he had to intervene.

You looked up with teary eyes and called out when you heard the door to the storage closet being turned, “I’ll be out in a second!”

“Sweetheart,” Spencer spoke, seeing as the closet was locked, ”can you let me in please?”

You sniffled as you thought for a second before shuffling forward to open the lock, letting Spencer open the door as you sat back, barely able to hold in your tears and sobs.

“Oh darling…” Spencer quickly locked the door behind him, sitting next to you and pulling you into his arms.

“Daddy…” Your voice cracked as you whispered before letting go and sobbing into Spencer’s chest, clinging to him.

Spencer shushed you lightly, letting you cry, and held you close. Once you calmed down to just sniffles, he pulled back a little to look at you, gently wiping the last of the tears away.

“Better?” Spencer whispered, prompting you to nod in response, not wanting to speak. “Come on, let’s get you to the hotel.”

You whined lightly at that, standing up with him. “Still have work…”

“Baby, I’ll talk to Hotch. We are taking an LBL.” Spencer unlocked the door, ignoring your whines and protests against taking the leave.

In your entire 2 years at the BAU, you have made sure to always be prepared and make sure to take regular regression breaks so that you don’t ever have to utilize a Little Breakdown Leave. To you, they are just embarrassing. These leaves are designed to help littles and caregivers take a leave from work in case the little has a breakdown before or at work. While you always tried to be nice and helpful to those at the office who have had to use them, you never really got over how it felt embarrassing for you to be having a breakdown.

Hotch was quick to approve it, letting Spencer drag you back to the car and to the hotel against your wishes to keep working.

“Why don’t you want to just take the leave? It doesn’t have to be embarrassing sweetheart.” Spencer held your hand softly as you sniffled at your protests being ignored.

“But it is! Especially when you are already considered dumb by others!” You exclaimed angrily. You didn’t want the detectives and police officers at the precinct to think that they were right about you not being able to work because you were a little.

“Excuse me?” Spencer looked surprised. “Who said you are dumb?”

“The detectives and the officers at the precinct…” You mumbled, already feeling worse at just thinking that. You didn’t notice Spencer clenching his jaw in anger as you looked out the window.

“Listen up baby.” You looked at Spencer with wide eyes, a little surprised by the stern tone. “Nobody, and I mean nobody has the right to call you dumb. You are smart, strong, brave, and everything that those stupid men aren’t. Just because you are a little, doesn’t mean that you aren’t all those things. You hear me?”

You nodded before realizing you needed to speak up, “Yes daddy…”

“You don’t get to do that either. You don’t get to talk down to my baby. Capiche?” Spencer glanced at you, holding your hand in a tight, comforting grip, making you smile.

“Yes daddy.”

Spencer kissed your cheek once he parked the car. “I love you, sweetie. Remember that and the fact that you are better than every single officer and detective we had in the precinct today.”

You smiled a little, feeling better but still not the best. But you knew that it would take time to get over their words. You were more sensitive than most littles in the bureau, so Spencer too knew that it would take some time before you felt confident again. He remembered the amount of time it took him and the team to get you out of your shell and see your confidence.

Spencer took you back to your room, helping you get a bath. An hour later, you were both comfortably cuddling on the bed, watching a movie as Spencer fed you mac and cheese with chicken nuggets and fries.

Having had the time to regress and recharge that night, you came into the precinct feeling much better than the day before. The pep talk you got from Spencer also helped you a lot with regaining your confidence, at least around your team.

It also seemed that Hotch must have had a talk with the detectives and officers as they didn’t make any more comments around you, whether you were alone or not. It didn’t take long for you to figure out where the others had been stuck the day prior and help solve the case on the very same day, proving to the detectives and officers just how valuable you actually were.

It was safe to say that you had much of your confidence back by the time you got on the jet to get back home.

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Seventeen

Pairings; LADS OT4 x reader

Word count; 4,562

Themes; isekai, eventual smut, slowburn, canon divergence

Rating; 18+ for swearing and eventual mature themes

Notes; Only update for this week! I decided that it's better to drop my updates down from multiple to just one per week– just until I get a few buffer chapters in-between where my chapters are here and what I'm currently writing!

Also Tumblr on mobile seems to really hate anything over 4k so I'm not sure what to do when it comes to posting longer chapters– but if I do, I probably won't be able to add itallics and bold, but I'm sure no one would mind if I didn't go through and add those little details.

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! It's yet another memory one that will span over two chapters (including this one).

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Masterlist

“Y/n…Sweetie, wake up.” You hear a voice and a gentle hand shakes your shoulder. Your eyes slowly opened and your cheeks felt damp. Once your eyes are fully open, you wipe your face and rest a hand on your chest. It tightly grips the front of your dress as you struggle to breathe. Your gaze goes to Sylus with wide eyes and you look around, confused to see the interior of a car and not the beautiful lake you were just at. 

The only reminder of your dream laid In your hand…A gem, devoid of colour as if its power had been drained, was in your palm. Was this the aether core Xavier found? No…no way that would've followed you back.

“Where..?” You were still disoriented, trying to keep a grip on which reality was your own. Your hands were trembling.

“We’re back at the house, sweetie. Or did you forget where we were going?” Sylus's voice sounds soft. It sounds too kind, much sweeter than his usual tone with you. Were you somehow in a different kind of dream now? 

“No— I...” You hold your head in your shaking hands. “I had a dream...It..” You want to punch yourself in the chest– anything to try and fix the disorder nestled deep in your heart. 

“I know, you started crying so suddenly. I was almost scared.” Sylus seems rather calm as he speaks, not waiting for you to elaborate as he opens the car door, “I told you it would be happening more often. You just need to be prepared for it.” His hand reaches out for you as the cool breeze nips at your skin. 

“But I felt– Months passed, Sylus. Seasons changed and it’s only been an hour.” You stammer as you try to get out of the car, but your knees almost give out underneath you. 

Sylus lets out a sigh and picks you up bridal style. “Was it scary?’ He asks, softly, as he carries you inside. “No…just really sad,” You reply, resting your head on his chest, “And I feel even more tired than before…I felt like I haven’t slept at all…”

“It’s just the first of many,” He muses, not bothering to ask what it was about or explain how he knew so much as he enters your room, and lays you down on your bed. “I’m sorry there’s not much I can do for you,” He speaks in a low register as he takes your hair down from its up-do, running his fingers through the strands, before he gently removes your jewelry. “But I can sit right next to the bed if you want me to. You know I don’t sleep around this time.” 

You press your lips together in a thin line, before quickly nodding as you grab his hand, “Please?” 

Sylus doesn’t give you a response, but he keeps a tight hold on your hand while you slowly fall back asleep…

The next memory is more involved than the last. You’re not sure who this one is about just yet, but judging by the ghastly sight of bloated corpses and water steadily filling up a ship as a storm raged on, you can only assume it’s Rafayel’s.

From what you could see, it was a dark and stormy night on the high seas. Some of the ship’s crew were talking about a sacrifice that had gone missing and to let down the sails as the stormy sea was too strong from their ship. The large boat was rocking back and forth from the force of the waves, and you almost felt seasick.

You notice waterlogged bodies floating past you as you were hidden behind a wooden storage box. Then, suddenly, your arms are seized in a tight grip and you’re dragged to the edge of the deck. Your eyes widening as the sight of the dark, unforgiven see was all you could see below. “Now throw her overboard!”

What? You were the sacrifice!?

Amidst your surprise, you begin to hear a faint melody, a song sounding as if the sea itself were singing to you. Calling out to you, almost, and like an invisible hand, the melody calms down the raging whirls of the ocean and the winds die down.

“Fools…Any further and a storm would be the last thing on your minds.”

Rafayel?

Though you can’t ponder on your thoughts for too much longer as you’re tossed overboard. Your limbs spread out in a panic as you try to slow your descent into the depths. You can hear the emissaries cheering as you, their sacrifice who was raised for years just for this very reason, finally fulfilled your purpose.

A sinking sense of fear overwhelms your body and the salty ocean water drowns out your pleas and cries for help. Briny water engulfs your body and your eyes burn as you try to keep them open from under the crashing waves. You could’ve tried to hold your breath, but it was already too late. 

Your panic had caused you to take in gulps of water and you felt your vision fading. You could feel yourself slowly…and painfully suffocating. Before you lost consciousness, however, you felt something warm envelop you.

Whenever you resurfaced, you greedily gasped for air, coughing out salty water, and felt the cool rain hit your face. Then, you turn toward your savior but your pleasantries die on your lips as you meet his beautiful, otherworldly eyes. 

Those familiar, charming bluish-pink eyes.

“Were you abandoned?” He asks, holding an ornate flute as he seemingly stands on top of the now calm waves. The ethereal melody you heard earlier had since disappeared as he was no longer playing his flute.

“Save me…please.” Is all you can croak out and the purple haired man chuckles. He sits down on a piece of driftwood. 

Under the moonlit night sky, he looks at you, the scales on his neck emitting a faint glow. He’s lemurian?

“Did you ask for my assistance?” He asks, raising a brow as he rests his arm across his leg. Then, you take a moment to look at him, really look at him. 

He had paint-like markings on his face under his right eye, the paint marks were also along his shoulders and chest. Were they tribal markings? He was wearing gold jewelry, the bangles wrapped tightly around his biceps and wrists. A sheer, blue sash across his right shoulder seemed to be the only form of top he had on and his pants were more of a white and gold tunic.

He brings you back to the situation at hand by holding his hand out to you. That’s when you realize his nails were also painted black.

You reach out toward him but, when your hands touch, flames burst forth from his fingers. You let out a squeak of surprise and jerk your hand back, but he starts laughing, amused at his little joke. You, in turn, puff your cheeks out and grab his hand tightly.

Even if this was a memory from the past, it seems Rafayel still acts just the same. It almost makes you want to stay in this dream forever, having missed the man after not seeing him for some time.

The man makes a noise in the back of his throat as you squeeze his hand, “Release me.” The scales on his neck are raised ever so slightly like a cat’s bristling fur. “I said release me!” 

Another thought crosses your mind, an even older memory that a lemurian’s kiss can allow one to breathe underwater. This gives you an idea since you’re trapped in the ocean with no other way to survive, you decide to take your chances.

You suddenly reach forward to cup your hands on either side of his face, catching the man off guard, and kiss him. Your lips smash against his in a clumsy kiss, your teeth clinking together in your desperation for survival. 

The lemurian lets out a small gasp of surprise as you plead with him again to save you. Your vision becomes more blurry by the second, but you desperately try to hold his gaze.

After a long silence passes, his voice rings in your ears– low…soft…almost like he’s casting a spell to enthrall someone, “I will grant you deliverance and in exchange, offer yourself, your everything to me. Become my follower mortal.”

After this exchange, you assume you passed out. You hear children whispering about whether you’re alive or not. As the conversation turns toward the children wanting to use your possible dead body for dissections, you open your eyes. 

The first thing you notice is that you’re in a rather luxurious room. It’s completely covered in the colour blue. From the drapes across the windows to the bedsheets, to the walls. 

The children are, understandably, surprised that you woke up in the middle of their conversation. “Where am I?” You ask, slowly sitting up, “Am I below the waves?” You realize you’re probably asking too many questions and bring your hand up to rub your temples. “Keep your distance– she bites.”

You knew that sassy demeanor like the back of your hand. You puff your cheeks out, annoyed that he had to scare those poor children with nonsense. 

Rafayel stood by the door with his arms crossed over his chest and, as you took a moment to take him in during the daytime, you realized he was quite attractive. He was always attractive, but in his lemurian garb, he was all the more so.

Though, you do notice that his mouth is swollen and there seems to be a wound on his lips.

Oh, did you…

Once he meets your gaze, he glares at you. “Uhm...where am I?” You finally ask after a few moments of silence.

“A single glance would reveal that you’re in Lemuria. Treat her wounds and give her clean clothes. I’ll inform Elder Amund that we’ve found my devout follower.” He says and you fiddle with your fingers in your lap. “Uhm, you’re my savior right? I should express my gratitude—”

Though, he leaves before you can even finish your sentence. 

Maybe…You should go back to the real world after all. You miss Rafayel. 

A young girl with beautifully braided blue hair pops up from her hiding spot and excitedly sits on the edge of the bed, “Worry not! When Rafayel brought you back, it seemed you’d been vomiting bubbles with the crabs for a fortnight.”

Then she continued, “My name is Algie and he’s Konche. You’re the first live human we’ve met! Well...There are ones who swam along the currents, but none of them could talk like you.” 

The blue haired boy next to her scolds her, “You’re scaring her, sister. Look, her hands are shaking like a shrimp seeing a whale for the first time!” 

“My apologies, I didn’t mean it!” Algie quickly clasps her hands together apologetically. “You’re fine. Don’t worry about it but…May I ask why you brought me here?” You ask, head slightly tilted to the side.

“You’ll know when you visit the temple.” Algie says, “It’s a very, veerrry long tale. I’ll tell you on the way!” 

She said that in the Deep Sea lies the forgotten kingdom of Lemuria and that the God of the Sea lives there. He protects whatever the briny sea touches and his followers include not just denizens of the ocean, but also humans. His most devout followers must gift him a heart so he has the strength to protect Lemuria and becomes the god recognized by the entire ocean.

Hmm…Rafayel did say ‘we found my devout follower’. Does that mean he wants your heart? And not in the romantic way??

It’s said that the Sea God of this generation was born in flames as dusk turned to dawn and only he can use fire.

Huh, Rafayel did use fire earlier…

In the Tome of the Sea god, it’s stated that in Whalefall City’s temple lies a great flame that has burned for thousands of years and that if this fire were to ever go out, then Lemuria shall fall into a deep slumber for centuries.

So…to keep the flame alive, the Sea God requires a certain human follower. It cannot be a lemurian, it must be a human because they are some of the most selfish, greediest creatures so when they offer their hearts, love, or even their lives, it’s considered the most precious form of worship. This Tome also confirms that Rafayel will be the last God of the Sea.

Once in the temple with Rafayel, you gaze upon the fire in the middle of the room. It almost resembles a sun about to go out.

“She’s most suited to be the one.” You hear Rafayel say and you really hope he doesn’t mean to toss you into the fire as a sacrifice. “Her?” You hear an older voice from across the room.

A man in a robe, holding a staff, questions, “She is the human your Quintessence has decided on?”

“‘Twas more of fate’s whimsy. I wandered about on the earth and became her cushion when she fell.” Rafayel speaks as if you were a stray animal that he had brought home out of the kindness of his heart. 

“For now, I shall forget that your Quintessence snuck out and burned the guard’s hair. I must ask again, is she truly to be the human your Quintessence is bound to?” 

“As long as the Sea God’s ceremony is assured, I’ll make her my follower.” Is all Rafayel says in response before he goes back to being the sassy Rafayel you truly know, “However, we should remove all of her teeth and nails. I worry she’d bite and scratch us if given the opportunity.”

“I-I don’t think that’s a good idea,” You finally manage to get a sentence out. Amund sighs, “Once a lemurian is bound to someone, it’s impossible to go against their wishes. She will have the power to command your Quintessence. When the two of you barely know each other, is that something worth giving?”

The light flickers on Rafayel’s face and he lowers his head to ruminate about his answer. Then, the Elder leaves so you and Rafayel are alone.

“So…if you’ve yet to decide, can I be set free? I promise I won’t speak of this to anyone.” Though you try your luck, Rafayel continues to stand there. “The day has dragged on long enough. I’m tired.” He sighs, finding a comfortable spot on the floor to sit down. 

“What’re you doing?” You question, still standing up. “Sleeping.” He answers simply. “Why??” You are appalled but Rafayel continues, “Wake me before nightfall.”

 “You—” 

He ignores you, leaning his back against a marble pillar as he closes his eyes. The temple is heavily guarded, so all you can do is sit in a corner and ponder how you were going to escape. Though your thoughts are regularly interrupted by Rafayel’s breathing and after an hour of it, you’re fed up by it. “Rafayel! Ra-fay-el!” You try to wake him up, hands on your hips. Though, he doesn’t react. 

A small blue fish suddenly appears and begins swimming around his shoulders.

“Oh– where did you come from? You’re so cute...” You muse, reaching a finger out to poke the fish with a small smile on your lips. “Do you know the way out, Oh little fish?” The fish swims in a circle and settles on your finger as you softly giggle at it. “Do you understand me?” You softly ask the fish, completely endeared with it, “Could you show me a way out?” 

Flicking its translucent tail, the fish swims to the stained-glass window behind the alcove...

“Half a day has disappeared like sea foam,” You sigh, walking through the beautiful hallway of the temple, “Why have we returned to these crossroads?” A pout dances across your lips, “Do you lack a sense of direction or do all fish have terrible memory?” 

Twirling its tail, the fish suddenly swims into a crowd and leaves you behind. “Where–” You sigh, shaking your head, “I can’t believe I’m trying to talk to a fish.” The fish finally leads you to a coral reef and goes into a small hole in the city’s walls.

“Do I have to swim through that?” You question and the fish spits bubbles at you, almost as if trying to communicate. “I’m coming. I'm coming.” You sigh, swimming through the narrow passageway until you’re on a beach alcove.

You dust the sand off of your knees in triumph. “I’ve definitely got to think of a way to express my gratitude to the fishies…I could possibly feed them during the Sea God’s ceremony,” You murmur to yourself.

“Was it fun to explore Lemuria?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the sound of Rafayel’s voice. “Rafayel!?”

“There is no need to shout my name.” He says behind a silk curtain, before he steps out to face you. 

He lifts his finger and the little fish swims around it, then transforms into a blue scale that lands in his palm. The fish was his own creation!? 

“You planned this?” You groan. “‘Twas a test for you. Elder Amund was right. Human promises are nothing but meaningless words.” “Huh– When did I make a vow to you??” You were a bit exasperated.

“I told you to wake me before nightfall, didn’t I?” Rafayel crosses his arms over his chest and then yawns, seemingly not upset in the slightest. “Besides, when I saved you from the ocean’s clutches, we made an oath. Did you forget?”

“That…counted? Look, you’re the sea god, respectful and awe-inspiring. Can’t you consider my rescue an act of kindness and let me go?” You rub the back of your neck as you look away from the man.

“I am not a God who answers every whim. The ceremony is to take place in a month and, as you’re aware, ceremonies always need–” He rests his chin in his hand as he narrows his eyes, filling you with a sense of dread.

“...Followers right? There are plenty on land. You know? The ones who wear robes and pray to you every day. They’re more devout than me.” You quickly cut him off, not wanting to hear him say the word ‘sacrifices’.

“Alright…Then, return to me your life.” He says, one hand on his hip. His other hand reaches out toward you as if grabbing an invisible rope that’s tied tightly around your neck. Though you're unsure of what he’s doing, suddenly you can’t breathe. 

You place a hand over your chest, doubling over for a moment as you reach toward your throat and cough. Water enters your nose and throat. Did he…take away your ability to breathe underwater? “Wait, wait!” You panic, air bubbles escaping your mouth as you try to speak, “I’ll do anything you ask!” 

Suddenly, a grin spreads across Rafayel’s lips and he loosens his hold. You find yourself able to breathe again. “‘Tis not worship I desire. From the very depths of your soul, I seek only the purest devotion.” 

“I beg your pardon?”

“The tides ebb and flow and with every setting sun is a moon rising. ‘Till time’s end, I should occupy your every thought. You must believe in me alone.” Rafayel says as he walks closer to you and your eyes widen a bit.

Okay, that’s hot—

“You mean I…” You trail off and the tips of your ear turn a pretty shade of pink. “Think of it from another perspective,” He pokes your chest, specifically where your heart lies. He acts as if he’s stating a truth, “Thou must find a means by which thy heart becomes smitten with me.”

‘Find someone who will kiss you, even if you do not give them the world. Love a soul that is like your own, that which compliments you. Love and death are the most important things in life. Death is a matter of time, so love with all your heart can muster.’

- Lemuria: Tome of the Sea God, Chapter 3  

The two of you ended up sneaking to the top of the temple’s spire to watch the sunset. After a few days, you had grown used to the Lemurian’s snarky demeanor. You had also learned a bit more about him, like how he doesn’t like people touching him but is fine with you gently holding his hand.

You recall Amund saying that once the Sea God is bound to a person, they’ll do anything they command so as Rafayel sits down in the shade to nap, you decide to bother him for a bit. His eyes are closed with his arms crossed over his chest, so you reach your hand out to grab his.

“Make some flames for me,” You ask. Rafayel lifts his fingers up before curling them back around yours, but doesn’t say a word.

“Hmm...I didn’t work at all,” You murmur with a pout. “Don’t waste your time.” He lazily opens his eyes. “One should practice silence when watching the sunset.” He drops your hand, resting his arm on his propped up knee. 

“Do you want to see the real sun, Rafayel?”

“I do not.” He simply says and the blue fish from earlier reappears. “You wanted to sneak onto the beach the day we met,” You say as the fish swirls around his palm.

“Your tongue barely moved when we first met. Back then you were rather…” He trails off, bringing his hand up to his mouth to tap his lips.

A crimson red blush appears on his ear tips before spreading across his cheeks. His eyes widen as he catches your gaze and he quickly looks away.

“This side of you is much more to my liking.” He finally finishes his sentence. 

You tap his shoulder, “Hey, so on the surface we have a Sea God ceremony too. We play wonderful songs on lyres and...”

“Were the surface world as lovely as you claimed, you’d be elsewhere,” He glances toward you before looking back up at the light in the distance. 

“There are evil people on the surface! Once they learnt you were Lemurian, your tears that turn into pearls would be harvested day after day endlessly.” You try to spook him, though deep down you knew there would actually be humans as evil as that. Rafayel crosses his arms over his chest as he shakes his head, “If you were to persuade me to bring you to the beach, you’ll run away.” 

Though after a few moments of silence, Rafayel leans back against the marble column behind him. “Is the surface world’s sunset different from the one in the ocean?”

“Honestly...my memory of it is hazy…” You trail off as he closes his eyes and you take your chance to sit closer to him.  Your head slowly drifts down to rest against the column as well– close to him but not touching him since you recall him saying he doesn’t like to be touched.

“You take me to see the sun and I’ll take you to see the festival...What do you think?” You ask as you look up at him, drinking every detail of his face. Though, as silence fills the room, you realize Rafayel had most likely fallen asleep. The tranquil nature of the situation also somehow makes you sleepy as well and your head leans against his shoulder, almost close enough to touch his head. 

Though, you’re hesitant to fully lean against his shoulder. Suddenly you feel a hand on your shoulder, pulling you closer and hear Rafayel tiredly go, “Mmhm.” almost as if saying you’re okay to lean on him. You lift your gaze to look up at his face, worried he was awake, but all you see is his closed eyes. His face way too close to yours, so you instead close your eyes and rest your head on his chest as you join him in sleep…

After a few days, Rafayel decides to go to the beach with you to watch his own celebration first hand. You tell him of how the emissaries on land had adopted you and raised you as a follower of the sea god, only to tell you that you were a sacrifice years later.

You talk of how you wouldn’t have been able to escape because of the island’s size. It was nice to be able to actually talk with someone about your situation for once.

Then, you both enter the festival with driftwood masks that Rafayel made and you overhear a storyteller.

“Unable to break his vow with the girl and his own burning passion, the God of the Sea left the ocean and lived happily ever after with his beloved...”

The children talk amongst themselves after the puppet show. “But Lemuria is centered around bonds. Without it, the Sea God won’t remember or obey her!” A little girl says, clearly upset over the ending.

“What are you talking about? The God of the Sea will find his beloved and live happily ever after,” The little boy next to her sighs, not understanding her. 

The young girl lets out a huff of annoyance before tugging at your sleeve as she looks up at you, “What do you think, Miss? Will the Sea God be with her because he loves her or because of their vow?” “Uh...” You glance over at Rafayel before clearing your throat, “All of those legends of Lemuria are just made-up nonsense…”

Though, you seem to have made the wrong choice as the children start crying. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t...” You panic, not used to being around children enough to deal with the situation.

“What about you, Sir? Does Lemuria exist? Would the Sea God gift his heart to a human?” The girl quickly turns to Rafayel for an answer.

The man in question, the Sea God himself, rests his chin on his hand before nodding, “He would. Lemuria is my homeland, so that is how I know.”

Should...he be saying that? You tried to cover his mouth with your hands, but he pushed you away.

“What are Lemurians like?” She asked, excitedly.

“Hmm…Their tears turn into glimmering pearls, and their voices bring dreams of wonder. Their blood can make one live forever or even resurrect the dead.” You really don’t think Rafayel should be saying this but the girl quickly sighs, “I already knew that.”

“Lemurians don’t fall in love with people they’re bound to. ‘Tis a human fantasy.” Rafayel says with a shrug and you can’t help but frown.

“What else?” The little girl jumps up and down.

“Are you that curious?” Rafayel teases with a smile ghosting across his lips. It seems like the Sea God adores children– how cute.

Though, you could only faintly hear the conversation from afar, having walked away after Rafayel said Lemurians don’t fall in love with the humans they’re bound to.

Hmph, you’d just drink your sorrows away with some pomegranate wine.

You take a sip of the wine, being distracted by all of the lights and stalls like an excited little puppy.

Suddenly, the girl walks up to you and tugs on your sleeve again. “Miss! Your friend said that if you don’t return soon, he won’t keep waiting.”

Also, woah! I did not expect my bad weather drabbles to blow up like they did! Does that mean yall want to see more drabbles in the future?

If yall have any ideas for some, I'd love to, at least, try them out! Because I really didn't expect so many people to actually like it. I kept checking my Tumblr and being like "woah 35 notifs???" And then I'd check again and "WAIT, there's 25 more???" So, I'd love to keep doing them. They'd be good to post in-between my ToF schedule!

Hope yall enjoyed this chapter! I'm hoping it still makes sense that the reader can't fully control their body during these memories...I'm not really sure how to convey that tbh.

Taglist; @orphicmeliora , @yoongi-tunes , @mitzkooni , @hiqhkey, @tanspostsblog

[sunafc]

Don’t act like you care — ft. Gojo Satoru.

cw: nsfw, wc 4k, fem reader, college au, fwb, smut, a bit of angst but with a happy ending (i promise!), gojo is a coward.

You ponder if you’ve somehow angered the universe. That morning, as you were trying to study, your lovely upstairs neighbours decided it was a great idea to vacuum the whole place and move every single piece of forniture they owned. Then, when you thought you could have lunch, your kitchen stove just stopped working and you had to resolve to just warm up something in the microwave. Now you just got out of the shower, you think you can have a moment of peace and take care of your body — the doorbell rings. You groan as you put on a clean tshirt and rush to the door, your hair still drenched. You look through the peephole and, when you’re met with Gojo Satoru waiting on your doorstep, you’re sure you’ve somehow angered the universe.

You open the door, “What are you doing here?”

Gojo pretends not to hear you and enters the apartment. He eyes you up. He notices the way you shirt is getting dump because of your hair, the way it barely covers your underwear and how your legs are completely naked. He can’t help impure thoughts from forming in his mind and he’s sure you can see the carnal desire in his eyes. But he’s quick to cast those feelings away, he’s not here for that today. He walks past you and towards the bathroom. You hate the way he’s so aquainted to your flat. Moving in it as if it was his own.

You follow him, “Stop ignoring me, what are you doing here?”

“You’re getting the floor all wet, angel.” He says as he hands you your towel.

Seriously, you hate him and his stupid pet names. You snatch the towel from his offering hand, “Did I forget you were coming over?” You’re sure it’s not that, otherwise you would definitely remember, but there aren’t many other reasons why he should be in your apartment.

“I’m moving in here.”

You furrow your brows in confusion, “Are you trying to make a joke?” You let out a fake laugh and he just smiles at you.

“I’m not joking,” he says, “The other dorm is getting renovated and I got reassigned here.”

Now you wonder if in your past life you’ve been some kind of criminal, a really awful person, to deserve Gojo Satoru, of all people, to move in with you. You probably had worse roommates yeah, but at least they weren’t someone you’ve slept with. It had started exactly seven months earlier, you hooked up once and it just kept happening. And then, a few months in, you realized you’re not built for this type of relationship with no feelings, but you just couldn’t stay away from him— and even if you could, apparently the universe had something different planned for you.

You’re too tired to complain aloud, “Do what you have to do, you know which one is the empty room.”

As you dry your hair with the towel your tshirt lifts up, giving Gojo full view of your waist and panties. All his resolve to stop his lustful thoughts flies out the window.

He locks eyes with you, “You might want to start wearing pants around here now that you don’t live alone anymore.”

“Whatever,” you hold the eye contact as if it was some kind of challenge and you throw the towel over your shoulder, “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

He snickers, “That’s true,” he gets closer to you, “But I might think you’re trying to provoke me.”

He’s just a few inches away from you. He tucks your hair behind your ear and his fingers brush against your skin. You find yourself following his touch. He lays a hand on your lower back and leans in to kiss you. He urges your mouth open, wasting no time slipping his tongue in. You can’t focus on anything but his voraciousness. He bites your bottom lip and you moan in his mouth. He forces you back until you meet the wall — the towel that was on your shoulder is long forgotten on the floor. Gojo’s hands make their way in your wet hair. He lets you take a breath as he leaves a trace of sloppy wet kisses along your jaw and then your neck. His knee is now between your thighs, pressing on your clothed cunt. He sucks at the base of your neck, dead set on leaving a mark. His touch on you makes you lose your mind. You keep moaning and you slowly grind on his thigh, longing for the tiniest bit of friction.

“Trying so hard,” he whispers in your ear, “Should I help you?”

You nod sheepishly. He picks you up to lay you on the couch and crawls on top of you.

His fingers play with the edge of your underwear, “Can I?” He asks.

You kiss him, “Please.”

He slides your panties off, feels your ass up and caresses your inner thighs. He hasn’t done anything yet and you’re already a squirming mess under his touch.

“You’re so cute, Y/n.”

“Stop teasing me and start doing some—”

He takes your jaw in one hand and slips his thumb in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, “Patience, there’s no rush.”

Your drool starts dripping down from the corner of your mouth to his fingers.

“Lick it off.” He commands, slipping his thumb out but without letting go of your jaw.

You obey and clean the spit off of his fingers with your tongue, looking at him from under your lashes. When you’re done you take his thumb back inside your mouth and you suck on it. With his free hand Gojo traces meaningless shapes on your inner thigh.

He glides two fingers across your folds, “You’re so cute,” he says again, “Already so wet.”

Without warning he slips a finger in. You let out a moan and Gojo hums to himself. He inserts another finger in and starts thrusting them in and out roughly. The most delightful sounds escape from your lips.

The hand that was holding your jaw moves to cup your face, Gojo strokes your cheek making an even bigger mess with your drool, “That feels good mh?” He pulls you in for a kiss that quickly becomes desperate and filthy. His fingers keep entering your hole and his thumb plays with your clit, “Tell me, angel, let me know how good I make you feel.”

“So good!” You cry, lewd sounds fall from your lips, “F—fuck Toru—”

You sound so desperate, Gojo can feel his dick twitching in his boxers. You’re just so helpless and miserable, all at his mercy. He needs to see you breaking on his cock. He stops fingering you abruptly.

You gasp, suddenly feeling empty, “Wh—why?”

He licks his fingers clean, “It’s not time to come yet."

He takes off his clothes and, holding you by your waist, he positions you between his legs. His tip so close to your entrance. He slips in in a swift motion, gaining a squeal from you. He starts slow but he’s soon thrusting at a faster pace. Your eyes flutter shut.

“Look at me,” he holds your face with one hand, “Look at how good I’m fucking you.” He brings both his hands back to your sides, fingers pressing hard into your hip bones as he guides your body into his. He moves your leg over his shoulder to reach deeper into you. The way your cunt cleanches around him makes Gojo feel dizzy.

“Shit baby, so thight.”

Jolts of pleasure keep running through your whole body, “Toru.” You moan his name. Again and again. Your nails dig into the blanket on the sofa as he keeps hitting all the right spots. He’s thrusting deeper and faster every second, the room is filled by the slaps of your skin meeting and the sinful moans and whines you’re making.

“F—fuck Toru, slow down!” You shriek.

“Are you close? Feels so good you’re already cumming?” He drops his face down to yours, “C’mere,” and he kisses you. He sucks on your tongue and your cunt flutters. His teeth sink in your tongue, hard, and you gasp loudly as you come undone on his dick.

“Wh—what was that for?” You ask in between pants, still processing your orgasm.

He shrugs, now grinding into you slowly, “Wasn’t on purpose.”

You scoff, “Sure it wasn’t.”

He slides out of you gently. “Get on your knees.” He instructs staring vehemently into your eyes with his piercing blue ones. You feel like you could come again just for that. You oblige and open your mouth before he can ask you to.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He smiles satisfied. He holds your hair in a messy ponytail in his hand, he settles his cock on your warm tongue and lets out a low groan. “Go on, suck.”

You start by licking just the tip then, slowly, you take most of the lenght in. You work with your hands what you can’t fit in your mouth. You hear Gojo letting out deep sighs.

“Come on, angel, I know you can take it all.” He pushes your head softly towards his pelvis, “Fuck.” He throws his head back.

Motivated by the indecent sounds coming from him, you continue bobbing your head up and down. Your eyes are watering and saliva is falling from your mouth to the floor. The sight of you makes his dick twitch in your mouth — and you moan at that.

He tightens the grip on your hair and starts fucking your throat himself, “Fuck, fuck Y/n, so good for me.” He sets a faster pace and he can feel his tip hitting the back of your throat now and then, “G-god, I’m gonna come soon.” He thrust insistenly into your mouth a few more times before releasing inside with a deep whine, “I want you to swallow it.”

You obey as you sit on the floor, burned out. Gojo sits next to you and massages your throat gently, “You did good.” He says that softly. He wipes the drool off of your face and kisses your forehead.

“I’m gonna need another shower now.” You say.

“Let’s go, I’ll help you.”

He walks towards the bathroom and you follow him.

“Your hair is a mess.” He says after shutting the door behind you.

“Gosh, I wonder why...” You say with a sneer.

He holds the brush in his hand, “Come on.” He gestures you to sit on the toilet.

He brushes your hair delicately, when he’s done he puts it in a ponytail and leaves a few kisses on your shoulder, “Shower time.”

He waits for the water to get hot before letting you inside the shower box. He’s careful not to get your hair wet again and, when he rubs you with the sponge, he tries his best to not to hurt your sore spots. You can’t help but think about how he probably does this to all his other hook ups too. You feel a sharp pain in your chest and, suddenly, his touch on your bare skin is something unbearable.

You grab the sponge, “I know how to wash myself—”

“I don’t mind.” He interrupts you, gently taking the sponge back from your hands.

A moment he’s pounding into you without a care in the world, the moment after he’s handling you tenderly as if you were made of porcelain and a look could break you. You could not stand him — or that was what you wanted to believe. You cover your face with your hands and sigh loudly, you had no idea how you were going to survive living with him.

—

The day after, you think maybe the universe decided you’ve been punished enough. No annoying noises from your neighbors, your kitchen has been fixed, just Gojo Satoru roaming around your apartment — but you’re set on spending most of your time outside so that you don’t have to see him. That’s why now you’re sitting at the campus cafè with your friend.

“Wow, sucks to be you.” Shoko says teasing you, when you tell her the news.

“This is serious!” You whine as you stir your drink with the straw, “I promised myself I would not sleep with him anymore.”

“Then don’t.” She takes a hit from her cigarette. When she catches you avoiding eye contact, her lips part as she connects the dots in her head, “Oh my god, Y/n! You already had sex again!”

You cover your face in embarassment, “Don’t say a word.”

She laughs, “I can’t believe you.”

“I really don’t know what to do.” You admit and take a sip of your drink, “I don’t think I can do it, seeing him everyday.” And then it hits you, “Oh god,” your eyes widen, “What am I gonna do when he brings his other hook ups over? Shoko I’m going to cry.”

“I could beat him up, if you want.”

“I’m gonna go live in the streets.”

She offers you a kind smile, “Don’t be silly now,” she puts out her cigarette, “There’s a party tonight, wanna go? Might help you get distracted a bit.”

You think about it a few seconds before agreeing. You kinda regret it when you get there, thinking maybe it would’ve been better to stay home. Watching a sad romcom, alone in your bedroom, with a glass of wine... it wasn’t such a bad idea. But you’re here now, might as well try to have some fun.

The party is nothing special, the music is too loud, you can only smell alchol and smoke and it takes you two minutes to lose Shoko in the big crowd.

“Great.” You mutter under your breath.

You look for the kitchen, opting to start by drinking something. You pour yourself a glass of the first bottle at hand, in the less sticky cup you can find.

“That kinda sucks, try this.” A voice whispers in your hear from behind you, handing you a cup with another drink inside. A voice you could easily recognize everywhere. And again, you’re certain the universe must really hate you.

You turn around. Gojo is towering over you. He’s wearing a very simple outfit, yet you can’t help but think he looks fucking good.

He takes in your figure and runs the hem of your skirt between his fingers, grazing your bare thigh, “That’s pretty.”

You ignore the butterflies in your stomach and you ponder of a way to get out of this situation. You could spill your drink on yourself “by mistake” so that you’d have to leave, or to say you need to find Shoko— or anyone else, really. You push his cup away, “I don’t accept drinks from guys at parties.” You say that with a tone a little too harsh.

“I would never do that, Y/n.” He says with a pout on his face.

Your heart breaks a little, you were just joking and you knew he wasn’t that kind of person. You were angry at him when it wasn’t even his fault, you knew what you were signing up for when you decided to continue sleeping with him.

“I know,” you mumble and grab the cup, “Let me try, then.”

He smiles pleased with himself. You wanted to tell him it was disgusting and that he had horrible taste. Actually, it tasted nice, not too sweet but not bitter at all: just like you liked it. “It’s okay.” You say.

“Stop lying, you can have it, I know you like it.”

You roll your eyes. You fidget with the edge of the cup, not sure what to talk about.

“Say, pretty girl—”

Gojo’s words are interrupted by some random guy greeting you.

Gojo watches as you chat with the boy, who apparently shared classes with you. He watches as you put on your customer service voice, as you answer the guy's questions just out of kindness. It’s obvious you’re not into him, Gojo wonders how oblivious could one be. He is not sure why his chest aches when he sees you smile at the boy, why he feels anger when that guy’s hand falls on your arm and why he feels nauseous when you don’t move away from his strokes.

“Me and my friends are playing beer pong,” the boy tells you, “Want to join us?”

Gojo glares at the guy, seriously thinking what his problem could be... did he not notice you were talking with him first?

“Man, get a damn clue,” Gojo says before you can even open your mouth. He grabs your wrist, “We’re kind of busy.”

You look at him with a confused look on your face, you pull your arm from his grip then turn to the other boy, “Maybe another time...”

Gojo feels satisfied with your answer.

You wave him goodbye. You turn to Gojo, vexed, “What was that?”

“What?” He asks with faux innocence.

“What if I wanted to go—”

He picks you up and sits you on the counter, a hand on your thigh creeping up your skirt and the other steady on your waist. His face way too close to yours.

“You didn’t.” He says with a smug smile.

You stop his hand on your thigh from going too far up, “I was saying,” you avoid his gaze trying your best to ignore the way you’re feeling hotter by the second, “If you wanted me to stay just say so, no need to make a scene.”

Gojo feels a little offended by that, he was not making a scene. You two were talking and that guy stopped you, it was only natural for him to react like that... right?

He traces faint circles on your inner thigh with his thumb, “We were talking.” He kisses the corner of your lips.

You huff, “What are you, five? He just asked.”

He kisses your jaw, your neck, your collarbone.

You tilt your head the to the side to give him more space, “You didn't have to answer for me.”

He gives you a hickey, “Mhm,” and another one.

You want to fight but you keep getting hornier with every little touch. You grab his hair by the nape and pull it a little to move his head, getting a moan in return from him.

“You’re not even listening to me.” You whine.

“I am,” he says cupping your cheek with one hand, “I know it wasn’t my place to answer.”

You cross your arms, “And?”

He leans in, “And, I really need to fuck you now, angel.” He says in your ear with a raspy voice.

Your eyes widen, your face flushes, “And, you should apologize!”

Gojo knows you’re right, of course you are. He should apologize. Despite that, he’s not sorry. He got what he wanted, he got you to stay. And right now, he needs to hear you scream his name, he needs to be sure you don’t forget he’s the only one who can make you feel good.

He cups your face and kisses you, he mumbles a quick “sorry” as he moves his lips on yours.

Your hands instictively go in his hair, “Are you?—ah”

He bites your bottom lip, “I am so sorry, baby.”

You’re not sure if he’s still talking about what happened before or if he’s apologizing for the bite. Either way, you kind of don’t really care anymore.

The kiss gets messy quickly as always, his tongue in your mouth, saliva smearing all over your chins, your hands tugging his hair, his hands roaming your body.

When he stops to catch a break a string of spit keeps you two connected. You’re a panting mess and you feel yourself getting wet.

“Toru.” You whimper.

“I know angel, let’s go.” He lets you off the counter and holds your hand as he makes you follow him through the people.

You text shoko in a hurry, you ask her if she’s alright and you tell her to not wait for you when she decides to leave.

When you look up from your phone you’re in a storage room and Gojo is closing the door behind him.

“Satoru what’s this?”

He wastes no time as he’s already on you again, with his arms around your waist, “Sorry, but the bedrooms were occupied.”

You put a hand on his chest, keeping him at a distance, “We could always go home, no?”

“I need you, now.”

And you let him have you. You let him unzip your skirt and slide it off along with your underwear. You let him suck on your neck leaving all kind of marks and wet kisses behind.

“You smell great.” He says breathing against your skin. He kisses you like he’s craving you, shoving his tongue in your mouth as he slips finger after finger in your cunt. You gasp and whimper inside the kiss.

“Be louder, all your little sounds are heavenly to me.” He says continuing to slip his fingers in and out of you.

He lowers himself, knees on the ground. He positions his head between your legs and while continuing to finger you, he starts licking your folds.

You shake in pleasure when he sucks on your clit. Your hands find their way in his white locks and you push his head further forward your cunt, “I’m close, Toru.”

He’s working his tongue against you and moaning every time you push his face closer. He switches his fingers with his tongue and his hands grip tightly around your thighs.

Your hips stutter with every movement of his tongue, you grind down on his face, “Don’t stop.”

He sucks harshly on your clit a few more times until you’re nothing but a spasming mess in his mouth and the only word coming from you is his name.

He licks at your juices, savoring you, “Taste so good, baby.”

“Toru,” you pant, “I want you.”

He doesn’t wait for you to tell him twice, in a second he stuffs you with his cock, “Still so tight, my angel.”

You’re leaning with your shoulder on a rack while Gojo holds you still by your hips as he stretches you out with his length. You dig your nails in his back, adjusting to the feeling. He snaps his hips forward one time, burying himself inside you, before starting to fuck into you mercilessly.

“Feels good?”

“Y—yeah.” You say looking at him through half lidded eyes.

His grip on your hips tightens, “Yeah? I’m making you feel good mh?”

“The best— ah,” you pull him closer and rest your forehead on his chest, “You’re always the best Toru.”

That sends blood straight to his dick that twitches in you, “That’s right, baby,” he cups your face with one hand and makes you look at him, “I’m the best for you.”

He passes a thumb over your bottom lip, “Stick out your tongue.”

You don’t know if it’s the way he’s fucking you greedily, or holding you tight like you could slip through his fingers at any moment— or maybe it’s the half cup of alcohol you drank earlier, but you feel intoxicated and you’re having trouble forming even a single comprehensible thought.

You comply with his request, having no strenght to ask why or refuse, but what he does next seems to clear your mind all at once. He holds your jaw still and spits in your mouth.

Your pussy flutters, you shake in pleasure and come again. Every word you can think of dies in the back of your throat and your eyes are wide open, Gojo even stops thrusting into you for a second before starting again slowly. Neither of you says anything for the next few seconds.

You can feel his spit starting to slide off of your tongue and you close your mouth.

“W—wait!” Gojo says trying to stop you.

But it’s too late. You’ve already swallowed it.

Gojo lets out the most sinful sound you ever heard as he comes inside you. He groans and lets his head fall on your shoulder, “You really drive me insane, angel.”

You’re panting, feeling dizzy after what happened just now. You think it’s the perfect moment to end whatever it is you have going on, “Toru...”

He pulls out of you gently careful not to hurt you, “Let’s get you home, I’ll help you wash.”

He gets dressed, he gathers your clothes and helps you put them on.

“Toru.” You say more firmly.

“It’s okay,” he picks you up with a grin on his face, “You don’t even need to walk.”

You squirm in his arms, “Gojo. Let me down, please.”

He frowns, “Gojo?” He puts you down, “Should be Toru to you.”

Why does he look so hurt? Why is he making this so difficult?

“There’s—” your voice cracks, you clear your throat, “I can’t do this.”

Gojo cups your face and looks at you worried, “What’s wrong?”

Tears start forming in your eyes.

“Oh no, baby, no no,” he wipes them off, “Hey, Y/n talk to me. Please.”

You move his hands away, “Don’t— don’t act like you care.”

You can see it in his eyes, his heart just broke in two. But yours is in a million pieces. You can’t look him in the eyes. You need to end it now, but you can’t. Not when he looks at you that way. Not when he wipes your tears so gently. Not when he calls you baby with his voice laced with honey. You have to get away. You grab the handle of the door.

Gojo puts a hand on yours to stop you, “I do care.”

You crouch to the ground, back facing the door. You’re a sobbing mess now.

“Y/n, please, tell me what’s going on.” He says, sitting down in front of you.

You take a deep breath, “I can’t do this anymore,” you can’t hold eye contact with him, “Is this still just casual sex to you?”

You start talking again, “Calling me baby, your angel, you hold me like I could break... like you’re scared to lose me,” words just keep falling from your mouth, “You never leave without giving me aftercare,” you remember what happened earlier in the kitchen and laugh hysterically, “God, you’re even jealous of me!”

Gojo blinks a few times but before he can say anything you’re talking again, “I have feelings for you, Toru.”

He wipes your tears again, “Seems like you’re way braver than me,” he sighs, “You are my angel, Y/n,” he hates being the reason why you’re crying right now, he kisses your forehead “It stopped being casual sex like a month in,” he admits and kisses your cheek, “I’ve been fucking only you. No one else.”

You can’t stop your tears from running down your cheeks.

Gojo pats your head and covers you in chaste kisses, “I have feelings for you too.” He gives you one last sweet peck on your lips, “And, I was not jealous.”

“You so were.” You say in between sobs.

He laughs, “You have time to tease me even when you’re crying?”

“Of course.”

He kisses you again before getting up, he extends a hand to you and helps you up.

“Let’s go home, baby.” He says before exiting the storage room with you.

Now you think that maybe you just got the universe wrong. Maybe the universe wasn’t punishing you, maybe it was helping you.

[mj-fintastic]

Dumb, dumb feelings.

|Donatello X Reader one shot | Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff |

After you’ve been gone a whole college quarter, you come back to the New York sewers to spend winter break with the Mad Dogs. Except Donatello is acting rather strange…

………………………………………………………………

“Y/N!!” Mikey screeched, throwing himself at the girl. She was able to drop her bags just before contact, grasping onto the box turtle so that he wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“Woah! Be careful, I coulda dropped ya!” She mustered, as the boy was squeezing the life out of her.

“It’s nice to see you again, Y/N! How’s college going?” Raph put his hand on his hip, his signature snag tooth popping out of his smile.

“Oh, we’ll it’s been-!”

“BOOORIIIIING! Have you met anyone? Found any cute guys? I’m sure college is just FULL of em!”

“Leo!”

“Yes yes, everybody is positively thrilled to see Y/N again, now can we PLEASE focus on the task at hand?” Donnie sighed, rubbing his temples.

“What, the Jupiter Jim Jupithon?” Raph raised his brow.

“yeES! We haven’t even made popcorn, and while my palette is very refined, TUMMYTELLO IS HUNGRY! Can we at LEAST order a pizza before we get all mushy?” Y/N picked her bags up, struggling to walk as Mikey had attached himself to her leg.

“Someone is hangry, I see.” She smiled, making Donatello pout. Little did she know, Donnie had been seemingly unreasonably moody, almost gloomy, for the last two or so months. It was something everyone noticed, but nobody really knew why.

“It’s nice to see you too, hun.” Her gaze softened. No one questioned it, seeing as she had a habit of calling people nicknames, such as sweetie, honey, etc.

It had been awhile since he heard her refer to him as such though. His expression softened, no one particularly seeing his cheeks change hue slightly.

“I’ll go put my stuff in the lab. Thank you so much again for letting me stay during winter break, D.”

“Yes, yes, you’re welcome. Just hurry, or else I’m starting the movie without you.”

He was unusually dismissive towards her, which didn’t escape her as her smile lessened and she turned away and headed towards the lab. The turtles all turned towards Donatello as he walked to the kitchen and reached into a lower cabinet, trailing behind.

“You know Donnie, she came all this way to see us. Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know…a little nicer?” Raph prodded.

“She’s been gone for SO LONG!” Mikey dramatically whined.

“Please, Michelangelo. She’s been gone for a little over a college quarter. Besides, we have-what, three weeks with her?” He nonchalantly grabbed a bowl from the cabinet, closing the door with slightly more force than usual.

Besides, what do YOU know about her, anyways? He clenched his jaw. He knew he was being unreasonable, but something was just nagging at him. Something was bothering him, and the fact he didn’t know what it was…it was driving him insane. He wanted to watch the movie, but he wanted them to go away. He wanted to be left alone, but he didn’t want to be alone. Nothing was making sense, his contradictory wants and desires making him grasp at straws. And his brothers were simply just distracting him from figuring it out…or so is the logical conclusion, he thought. Clearly, that’s why he was upset…right?

“Seriously. Broski. You’ve been even more grouchy than ever, and being grouchy is like, your thing! So, it’s a little impressive, but also…kiiind of a mood killer.” Leo chimed in, as Mikey nodded enthusiastically.

“I mean, you’re kind of acting like you’re not happy to see Y/N. Did you not miss her?”

“What? Wh- of COURSE I missed her! Did you just happen to forget she’s my BEST FRIEND?” He strained his tympanum to make sure she wasn’t coming back yet, there’s no way she’d get over him calling her that in front of someone else. Let alone his brothers. He took a bag from the box of popcorn off the counter, before tossing it into the microwave and putting it in for 3 minutes…promptly ignoring the popcorn button that his brothers loved oh-so-much, despite the packagings instructions advising against it.

“Then what’s the DEAL, YO?!!” Mikey shouted, causing Donnie to tense. All the attention, confusion and noise was becoming too damn grating on his nerves. It was too much, all at once.

“THERE IS NO DEAL, “YO!” NOTHING IS GOING ON, I AM PERFECTLY FINE AND NORMAL AND NOT AT ALL UPSET!” He grated his teeth, body tense as he slumped and his volume increased.

There was a pause, as tension was thick.

The popcorn had started it’s signature popping process.

The other turtles stared, eyebrows raised.

“Ooookayyyy, sure Donnie. Whatever you say. Anywhizzle-“ Leo broke the silence. “-You’re gonna share that popcorn, right? Cause oh boy I am STARVING!” He turned, chuckling as he made way for the living room, shouting as he spun on his heel.

“Raph, order a pizza! We must be prePARED, to fight for INTERPLANETARY PEACE!”

The popping from the microwave slowed, the smell familiar and comforting.

“You know what I like, Raphie. THE CHEESIEST CHEESE PIZZA THEY GOT!! I can feel that warm, melty dairy bliss on my tongue as we speak!” Mikey turned to follow his blue brother, practically bouncing off the walls. Donnie grabbed the bag from the microwave, tearing it open before a large hand softly placed itself upon his shoulder. Donatello felt his muscles tense yet again.

“Donnie. I know something’s wrong. You can’t hide that from me. I may not be the brightest, but I’ll be damned if I don’t know my brothers.” Raphael said softly. Donnie inhaled deeply, relaxing slightly.

“Okay, fine. There may be a SLIGHT CHANCE…that something is wrong. BUT, HERE’S THE PROBLEM, RAPH-AI-EL.” His jaw tightened, turning to face his brother.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT THING MIGHT BE! NO CLUE! NOT ONE IDEA!” He gestured wildly upward, causing Raph to step back.

“AND IT IS SO INFURIATING. I HATE NOT KNOWING THINGS, RAPH YOU KNOW THIS ABOUT ME! HOW ON EARTH AM I SUPPOSED TO FIX WHAT IS WRONG IF I DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS?”

“Oh man. This might be a better job for Doctor Feelings.” Raph looked on helplessly.

“No offense to Doctor Feelings…” Donnie paused.

“Okay, full offense- I hate Doctor Feelings.” He spat out the name like an unsavory strand of meat fat. Gross.

“What?! Why?”

“You know I don’t do well with…Emotions! They have no rhyme or reason, they’re inconsistent, they-“

“Okay, lemme stop you there, cause I know if I don’t, you’re gonna be at this all night.”

The purple clad turtle pouted and sighed, but knew he was right. He did tend to ramble, and no one was really fond of when he did…Except Y/N, but she was a rare exception. He felt the weird pang in his chest again, feeling his frustration only grow.

“Listen, I’m no Mikey. But I feel like while this has been an issue for a while, it got worse when Y/N got here. So whatever it is, maybe it’s gotta do with her. Maybe she said somethin’ that made you mad, or…I dunno, stepped on your shoes somehow. Figure that out, then go talk to her, alright?”

Donnie raised a finger.

“POLITELY.”

He lowered his hand.

“Alright, now come on, they’re gonna start without us!” He chimed, pulling out his phone as he dialed Tony Lou’s Pizza. Donatello sighed, putting another bag in the microwave. Something just wasn’t making sense.

………………………………………………………………………………

“Save me, Jupiter Jim! They’re going to make me swim in this comedically large piranha pit with also snakes and vipers and sharks if you don’t set me free!”

“Alas! Having to choose between saving planet JupiJarturNebula or save my partner…! What a heartbreaking, but extremely easy morally ethical decision!”

Everyone was on the edge of their seats, as the alien race of Angler-fish donkey people snidely chuckled with Red Fox in their clutches…Everyone but Donatello.

What could she have possibly done to make me angry? He questioned, occasionally stealing a glance at Y/n between fistfuls of popcorn.

I mean, we haven’t talked much while she’s been away, sure. How could one NOT want to talk to ME?! ORTHELLO VON RYAN?!!! However, he had to admit, college was difficult. Especially going full time AND having a job? He could see how she may not have had time. Besides, he was just as much at fault. As much as he missed her and thought about her, he never quite had the time between missions and projects to shoot her a text or call. Clearly, that couldn’t be the reason.

But nothing else came to mind. He had missed her so dearly, wanted to see her so badly…and now, here she was, hanging out with everyone. It wasn’t that he was upset she was here…what was it?

He paused as he stole another glance. The light brought attention to her nose, cheekbones…specifically her eyes. The reflection of the projection of stars, laser blasts and beautiful blues and purples made her eyes seem to shine. How he wished she would look at him, give him a better view, give him the unadulterated attention she was giving the projection on the wall.

His chest felt heavy again. Or…was heavy the right description? It felt like…a burning, but not the painful kind that a triple cheeseburger from McDonalds would give you. Once he embraced it, it felt…almost…nice.

Something happened in the movie that made her burst out laughing, and yet he couldn’t look away to save his own hide. If she looked now, she would most certainly notice his gaze. His face grew all the warmer, but he was too lost in thought to notice.

Her laugh was rather loud, he noticed. Unlike when they had first met. She was…quieter then. She had grown into herself a lot, gotten more comfortable. And it was…

Lovely.

Her voice struck a chord within him. It always had, but he never really noticed. He really had missed her. Her presence, her voice, her eyes…all he wanted was for her to notice him again.

And then it clicked.

“Alright, y’all! Two movies down, a JupiterJillion left to go!” She smiled, as the brothers roared in excitement.

“Oh! Uh, actually, Y/N…” Donnie started, before he felt a wave of nervousness splash him in the face once she turned to look at him. Her lips curved upwards towards her eyes slightly, as she made soft but direct eye contact.

Oh, God, what did Raph say? Run away and hide forever and throw away all means of communication and never ever ever - AND THAT’S TWO EVERS -under any circumstances talk to her ESPECIALLY ABOUT HOW YOU FEEL-yeah that sounded about right mhm totally!

“What’s up, D?” She gently prodded, urging him to continue.

“Can you…meet me in my lab in a moment? I want to talk to you about something.” He stood up, breaking the eye contact as he pulled out his phone, desperate to do something with his hands other than let them dangle awkwardly at his sides. The way she looked at him made him feel weak. He had gotten exactly what he wanted, for just a brief moment, before he had ruined it. Gosh, why couldn’t he just be normal around her?

“Of course! I’ll be there in just a minute.” She replied, cheery as ever, as she got to her feet as well.

“I’m just gonna start some more popcorn really quick.” She added as Donnie walked away, as he hummed a confirmation and made way to his lab.

As she walked to the kitchen, the brothers shot glances at one another as a familiar beeping sounded in the kitchen.

Another pause hung in the air, as they strained to hear her walk out of the kitchen.

“Okay, what’s going ON with those two?” Leo sputtered.

“I dunno, but I’m gonna make sure D ain’t being rude. It’s her winter break, after all! She deserves to have a good time, and I am fed up with his bad behavior.” Raphael concluded.

“Raph, are sure that’s a good idea? I mean…it seems pretty private if you ask me.” Mikey hinted with a raise of his brows. The snapping turtle, however, was dense to the implications.

“Nonsense! I’m sure nothing could go wrong by just checkin’.” He smiled, before heading off in Donnie’s footsteps.

…………………………………………………………………

Why was this so hard? He wiped his hands on his shorts a third time. His heart was racing, and he had no idea why. What was he going to say? His mouth felt dry, as he tried to think of what Mikey would say…

Just listen to your heart! You’ll feel much better if you’re honest with not only yourself, but the people around you! Communication is the key to any relationship, as is honesty.

Right, he scoffed. As if the truth does anything except hurt people. He found that no one really liked it when he told the truth, and sometimes all it did was hurt people’s feelings…or ruin a perfectly good friendship.

Yes, the truth can hurt. But sometimes, pain isn’t a bad thing. Pain is needed to learn, heal, grow as a person. And having someone lie to you can cause a lot more pain then telling the truth.

Well…that was true. What was he even going to say? He still didn’t really understand how he felt. How could he communicate it if he didn’t know what was going on?

Well, Mind Mikey wasn’t being very helpful anymore. He sighed, placing his hand on his plastron to feel his heart pulse rapidly. He hated this. He didn’t know what he wanted.

“Knock knock!”

He nearly jumped out of his own shell, as Y/N’s voice came from behind him.

She was barely peering in, hesitant to enter without permission.

“Did you seriously say that instead of, I don’t know-JUST KNOCKING?”

“You’re one to talk, hun.”

His stomach did a flip. Why now was the nickname giving him trouble? His eyes shifted, a soft hue of red accenting his cheeks. She didn’t fail to notice, brows furrowing.

“Donnie, is something…wrong? I know you don’t like talking about your emotions, but…” she spoke quietly, as she approached him. He couldn’t muster to look her in the eyes.

“I want you to know I’m always here for you. Whether you want to talk, just hang out…anything.”

“Nothing’s wrong, I just…” he hesitated. What to say? Would it really be…okay? He bit his lip, feeling his face begin to burn as he only grew more nervous.

“Okay well maybe SOMETHING is wrong but I’m not really sure what but I think I maybe know what it is? But at the same time I don’t know for sure and I-I just-“ he rushed through his words, speaking with his hands before sharply inhaling and restarting.

“I…I feel as though…I may have made you feel like I wasn’t happy to see you again, which is absolutely not the case. I just…” another pause.

“It’s okay, take your time Donatello.”

He looked at her with big eyes. Her expression was soft, understanding and comforting as she smiled patiently. He felt himself melt ever so slightly. Taking a moment to compose himself, he looked away again.

“…I just…missed you so much, I…The fact that I wasn’t able to spend time with you first made me upset, when in my mind I had envisioned something different…I felt like…” this was humiliating. He could just see Dr. Feelings watching and giving him a thumbs up in his head…he hated it.

“Like…my brothers were stealing you away from me, and that…you liked them more than me.” Dr. Feelings shot him a look.

“Did I make you feel that way?” Her brows turned upwards.

“No. I realize that, while I want to spend time with you the most…my brothers want to spend time with you too. So therefore…this was the best solution. To spend time with everyone at once before spending time with people individually. But at the same time, knowing that…didn’t change how I felt.” He shrunk in on himself, feeling small. Until she placed a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s completely normal. And, if you want, we could stay in here for awhile and spend some time one on one. I wouldn’t mind, I missed you too, you know.”

The look in her eyes were so warm, and the gentle touch made him lean in slightly. He folded, hugging her around her waist and burying his face in her stomach. The feeling of her touch after so long…he didn’t realize how much he longed for it. He felt her hand pull his goggles off, setting them to the side, before she started gently petting his head as the other laid on his battle shell. Normally, he hated being touched. But she…she was an exception. When it came to her gentle, graceful hands…he melted further and further into her.

…………………………………………………………………………………

Raph huffed as he made his way to the lair, his steps quiet.

“Man, if that Idiot is hurting her feelings I swear…Good thing Raph’s not gonna let that happen!” He chuckled to himself, before preparing to peer in.

“I’m surprised I’m not hearin’ fighting-“ looking in, he stopped in his tracks.

They were both sitting on the floor, Donnie with his arms around her and face rubbing into her lower abdomen, eyes wet as she held him and cooed softly.

“It’s alright, Donnie, I’m here now. We have so much time to spend together, and trust me…you’re going to get the brunt of the attention.” She laughed softly.

“Three weeks isn’t enough.” He murmured, making her blush slightly as Raph’s jaw dropped. Never in a million years did he think he’d see Donnie this open with someone. Honestly, he felt a little jealous that he wasn’t that open with him, but clearly something happening between them that was…much different. Suddenly, he realized exactly what Mikey has meant by private.

“I’ll only be gone for another two months or so, again.”

IT WAS TWO MONTHS?? Raph connected the dots in his brain. The whole reason Donnie had been a gigantic grump was because…he missed her? God, Donnie is a real knucklehead when it came to feelings.

“I know…I don’t want you to go.” He whispered, a single tear threatening to spill.

“I missed you so much. I don’t want to miss you again.”

The blush on her face only worsened.

“Oh, Donnie…Honey, it’ll be alright. I’ll always come back. You think I could ever go without you for more than a quarter? You’re my favorite person in this world. You’re the one I’ll always look forward to coming home to.”

Donnie pulled away, her words striking a chord within him as he looked at her. With a single sentence, she had made him melt to his core.

You’re the one I’ll always look forward to coming home to.

Suddenly, in one movement, Donatello moved up towards her face, hand cupping her jawline as he suddenly embraced her.

Her eyes were wide, taking a moment to process, before she melted into him with a small, content hum. His brows turned upward, resting his other arm over her shoulder as he slightly twisted his head to better fit her lips.

Welp. Despite his utter shock, now was absolutely the time for Raph to dip, he thought. However, he didn’t move an inch.

Hey, wait. What’s going on?!! I should probably get moving! He thought again.

HE HAD HIS FIRST KISS BEFORE ANY OF US?!! DONNIE?!!! Mind Raph roared.

Uh, Mind Raph, We should probably go. This is getting kinda creepy.

What? This is like a Soap Opera, I gotta know what happens next!!

Hey, that’s our brother, not free entertainment!

Even better, we should record them. I mean, no one’s gonna believe us otherwise.

WHAT?!! ARE YOU INSANE?!!

No, I’m Mind Raph. Thought that was pretty obvious.

That would be SUCH AN INVASION OF PRIVACY!!

Yeah, but it’d be funny.

…

Raph quickly pulled out his phone, and snapped a quick picture of the two. I mean, how much blackmail does Donnie have on him, I’m comparison? Plus…It was just too gosh darn cute to see his baby brother have his first kiss. With that, he walked away.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………

Her soft lips pressing against his made him shiver, wanting to feel them thoroughly as he pressed again and again. He wanted to spill everything, how inexperienced he was, how sorry he was for randomly embracing her the way he did, but also how long he had wanted to do it for. And yet, he didn’t need to. And when she had hummed the way she did, he felt weak to his core. Her lips were heavenly, sweet with a hint of popcorn, and just the fact that he got to know what her lips tasted like made him utterly breathless. He felt her arms around his waist, hand caressing the lower back of his battle shell, and suddenly he had the urge to take it off.

Am I ready for that? He pulled away, looking into her eyes as he thought.

Would she love me the same? He bit his lip nervously.

“Donnie?” She murmured, sending a chill up his shell.

Only one way to find out.

He let go of her for a moment, reaching up to the straps connected to his Plastron and pressing two small hidden panels simultaneously. The battle shell fell behind him as Y/N moved her hands out of the way slightly. Her eyes widened, a blush accenting her cheeks.

“Donnie…I…” she paused, as he listened tentatively and nervously.

“Can I…?”

He nodded.

He felt her hands gently place themselves onto his soft shell, another shiver going through his body. Her hands were warm, soft…nice. He felt his eyes flutter closed as he bit his lip. It felt amazing, her delicate touch as she caressed. He leaned into her, before fully wrapping his arms underneath hers and leaving his hands on her upper back as he buried his face in her shoulder.

“God…” she whispered beneath her breath, before chuckling softly.

“I hate how in love with you I am.” She smiled, turning her head to place a kiss on his head. He responded by nuzzling further against her.

“I love you so much.” She cooed.

Normally, he would despise being treated this way. And yet…he had never felt more loved, more safe.

It was quiet. The only sounds were those of their breathing, and her hands moving across his shell. It was cold in the lair, and yet, he felt the most warm he had ever felt. She smelled ever so slightly of perfume, and he could faintly taste her on his lips. It was fairly dark in the lair, but the purple lights comforted him in a way he couldn’t describe. And everything was just so…warm. Perfect, safe, warm…

He pulled away slightly to press another chaste kiss into her lips, feeling almost entranced by the atmosphere and by his own feelings for her. When the kiss ended, he only moved far away enough to give him room to speak. When he did, he could feel his lips brush hers ever so slightly.

“I…I’m so in love with you.” He whispered breathlessly. “I never want you to leave.”

She only smiled, gently pressing her forehead into his.

“I may leave, but I’m still yours. No matter how far away I am.”

She held his face in her hand, and all he could do was nuzzle into her touch more. No matter how close they were, it just wasn’t close enough. For once, he wasn’t thinking. All of his focus was directed towards her loving embrace.

RING RING! RING RING!

As if snapped out of a trance, Donnie jumped and reached for his phone in his pocket. His screen displayed Red Leader, as he felt himself flush.

“Hey Donnie~ How’s it going with Y/N?~” His older brother said, his tone slightly strange.

“O-OH, UH- Marvelously, fantastic, why?” He sweated, face red.

“Oh, I bet. Enjoying some…quality time?” He cooed, and Donnie could practically see his eyebrows wiggle.

“Uh- why are you talking like that?” He answered, monotone, trying to mask his nervousness.

“No reason…no reason at all.”

“Right…why did you call me?”

“Well, when are you two coming back down for the marathon? We’re already done with the next movie!”

“Oh! Erm, well…Soon?”

“Alright then, hurry it up!…Buncha smoochers.” He added teasingly at the end.

“WH-WAIT HOW-“ Click!

How the fuck did he know? DOES HE KNOW?!!

“Well, what’s up, D?” Y/N touched his shoulder, making him even more of a flustered mess.

“OH WELL UH-“ he cleared his throat. “Raph was uh-just-curious if we were coming back for the marathon soon.”

“Are we?”

“…”

“…”

“Ok maybe another few minutes wouldn’t hurt-“

“Oh yeah absolutely they probably won’t notice.”

[atwingeofcringe]

Little Bear

A/N: i know i said id write a cuddly morning with jason but this one kinda skipped to the front of my brain 😅

Summary: You hide something that Jason loves in an effort to spend more time with him.

Pairing: Jason Voorhees x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,070

🪓

Jason likes to stick to a routine. Wake up before the sun rises, get ready, eat, kiss you, then leave for most of the day to check his traps if they need fixing, moving, or if some unlucky soul got caught in one. All of this before you wake up. It was very rare to wake up and see Jason still home. The only times you’re able to catch him before he leaves is if you wake up early enough, yuck, or if he slept in, which, again, is rare. You know he’s just making sure that his land and you are safe but… you missed him.

You never knew when he’d return home. Sometimes it was very late, other times you wouldn’t see him for a couple days if he was having any kind of trouble. Sometimes you wished he’d just stay home and spend time with you, just forget about trespassers for a bit. That may be asking too much though.

But, today you had a plan. Well, really, you thought of it last night. You felt a little bad but also you couldn’t help but giggle as you pretended not to not notice Jason shuffling from room to room, searching for something.

Jason had already been set behind in his routine when he woke up with you sleeping fully on top of him, your face buried in his chest. He thought it was sweet and didn’t want to wake you so he allowed himself to stay until you woke up. Now, he was searching high and low for an item he hated being without. It was a crudely carved figuring in the shape of a small bear. You made it for him when he was teaching you about whittling. At first you were embarrassed about how it looked and wanted to throw it away and try again, but Jason insisted on keeping it anyway and hardly parted with it since.

You touched the heart shaped necklace hanging around your neck as you thought about that memory and smiled. Jason made you the heart trinket and carved both of your initials into it. You loved it as much as he loved that ugly little bear you made. Eventually, you turned it into a necklace so you’d never lose it.

Speaking of losing something, Jason tapped your shoulder and spun around, looking up at him. He shoved his hand into his jacket pocket and turned it inside out, showing that his beloved bear was no longer in there. He knows he had it when he got home, because he checked, but not sure what happened after that.

“I’m sorry, Jay, I haven’t seen it.” You shook your head and gave him a sympathetic pat on his arm. His shoulders slumped and he sighed, finally feeling defeated. It broke your heart a little seeing him like that. “I can help you look if you want!” You offered happily.

Jason looked over his shoulder put the window. It’s getting later in the morning and he might not have time finish his tasks before the day ends. Still, he didn’t want to leave without the bear trinket and turned back to you, nodding yes.

You spent another couple hours helping him. He’d tap you on the shoulder if you were looking in a place he already checked. When you were sure a room had been fully searched he’d huff and move on to the next. The only place left was the living room. He checked behind his favorite chair and then turned to see you bent over, checking under the couch.

His brow raised behind his mask as his eyes landed on a small lump in your back pocket. It was the exact same size and shape as his bear. Jason rolled his eyes and shook his head and walked over to you. He couldn’t believe you had been hiding it from him this entire time.

A tap on your shoulder interrupted your search and you stood up. “Did you find it?” You asked, trying to sound hopeful.

He wanted to be snarky and say yes, then pull it out of your pocket. But, he thought of something else to get you back. He slumped his shoulders again and shook his head no, then turned towards the door, signaling he had to go. He definitely wasn’t getting much done today.

“I’m sorry, Jason.” You hugged him. “I’ll keep an eye out for it ok?”

He nodded, hugging you back. You leaned up to kiss him goodbye but he moved to turn back towards the door at the last second, making you miss him entirely. It surprised you and you stood there with a look of stun and confusion as he left. As soon as he got to the bottom of the stairs he started counting down in his head.

3, 2, 1…

You flung open the door and yelled at him. “I don’t get a kiss goodbye?!”

Jason stopped on his tracks and faced you. You jogged down the steps and up to him with an offended expression. He lifted his mask, revealing his smug smile.

The heat a blush warmed your cheeks. “W-what?” Uh-oh, he knows! “Can’t I just have a kiss before you go?”

Jason stuck out his hand and waited. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back your smile. The bear was removed from your back pocket and gently placed into Jason’s giant palm, making it look smaller that it really was.

“Can I have a kiss now?” You asked, hopeful.

With that he pulled you into him and pressed his lips to yours.

“I’m sorry!” You said shamefully when you pulled away. “I just miss you so much when you’re gone all day so I wanted to spend more time with you.” You looked down at your feet feeling bad about what you did. You know how much he loves that bear.

Hearing you say that made Jason feel bad now. He frowned and cupped your face, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek. Another kiss was pressed to your forehead as a way of saying ‘I’m sorry.’

The day was already half over and he knows he won’t be able to get much done now anyway. Without another thought Jason scooped you up, making you let out a surprised gasp that formed into a fit giggles, and brought you back into the cabin.

Today he’s all yours.

[ceilidho]

sneak peek at the possessive best friend Soap fic:

Where to even begin with all of this?

Your friends can’t even begin to parse out your friendship with Johnny. Half the time, they’re convinced that the two of you are secretly dating. The other half, they’re asking you for his number (“it’s not a big deal, right? If he’s single”), which you hand out with some degree of reluctance or make excuses about, telling them not to put you in the middle, that they’re grown women and can ask a man out on their own.

So what’s it mean that you hope they won’t?

You’re well into the second decade of your friendship with Johnny. These days, you think you know everything there is to know about the man. You know the way he likes his eggs, at what point the pinched expression on his face goes from mildly pissed to possibly violent when he’s arguing with another guy, his preference for coffee over tea, the particular way he sighs when he’s tired to the bone, the distinct feel of his fingertips, the texture of his hair, the way he’ll clear his throat after a drink of water—

The point being, you know this man. 

You’re not sure when the line gets crossed. It feels abrupt and somehow, entirely natural. Like you should’ve seen it coming, should’ve heard it on the telly or sirens blaring through town, but instead you sat inside with your ears plugged up. 

It comes out when the two of you drink a bit too much on a night out, huddled at a table at the back of the bar with Johnny’s arm stretched behind you like usual. You blurt it out in between two other thoughts, when your eyes are drawn to another couple sitting towards the back of the bar, pressed so closely together that their noses almost touch.

“God, I need that,” you sigh, the words coming out unbidden. 

The noise in the bar is just loud enough that he asks you to repeat yourself and you do, a decibel louder, nose wrinkling when you do. Just tipsy enough to lose most of your shame. He arches a brow, taking another sip of his beer. 

“Need what?” Johnny asks, leaning in closer to you, probably to make sure that he can hear you this time.

“To get laid.” It falls out of you like an aside, but that’s because you hardly hear yourself saying it. Your eyes are still locked on the couple across the room, envy making your stomach clench. Feeling it in your guts. 

You only frown when you realize you haven’t heard Johnny say anything in a while. When you turn back, you find him staring down at you with a peculiar intensity. Eyes bluer than you’ve ever seen before, more alert. 

“Why?” His tone is hard, insistent. “You looking around or something?” 

It catches you off-guard, the sudden interrogation. The tension rolling off him. 

“No—I—” Your mouth opens and closes, words only holding their form for a handful of seconds. His stare makes you reconsider them. “I, just…”

He must finally notice where your eyes keep being drawn to because he looks over. His shoulders relax when he spots the couple, the two seated at the back of the bar still tangled up in each other. He hums like he gets it. 

You can feel the heat burning under your cheeks. “Just forget I said anything. It’s really—this is so weird, I’m sorry.” You shut yourself up by taking a drink, looking anywhere but at your best friend’s no doubt taunting face. 

When you happen to glance up though, you find Johnny’s pupils dilated. “Y’know, I could help you with that.”

The offer makes you pause, the rim of your glass pressed to your lip where you were just about to sip. 

“Help me with what?”

“You feeling hot and bothered? I’d be happy to lend my services, kitty cat.”

You frown. “Oh my god. Please don’t say it like that.”

“Y’can call it whatever you want, bonnie. Just know I wouldn’y pass up the chance to get you naked. Can’t say I haven’t thought about it.”

The hand holding your glass shakes a bit so you put it down. “You have?” 

You wouldn’t normally keep the conversation going, but you’ve had one too many gin and tonics. There’s just enough liquid courage in you to delicately lay the question there like a snare looking for a compliment. You tell yourself it’s nothing more than that. Johnny’s your oldest friend, sure, but he’s also a red-blooded man with corded muscle, strong shoulders, and a jawline that could cut glass. Your blood practically sings when his eyes travel over you like he can see underneath your clothes.

“Yeah, kitty,” he breathes, scooching a bit closer to you. “Think about it all the fucking time actually. Can’t remember the last time it wasn’y top of mind.”

It’s incredible that the world still seems right-side up. Everything might as well be upside down for you. “That’s—are you serious, Johnny?”

“Deadly. You need proof?” The proof feels self-evident. It’s his tight, bunched up muscles and the eager look in his eyes, the hint of teeth when he speaks. You do not, under any circumstances, look down at his lap.

“No, I don’t need proof, oh my god.” You glance around in case anyone nearby overheard, but no one pays a lick of attention to the two of you. From an outsider’s perspective, you probably look just like the other couple, Johnny’s fingers twirling around the ends of your hair, his head angled towards you intimately. 

A smile breaks across his face and it’s like suddenly looking up into the sun. Blinding. “We don’t have to do anything about it yet, kitty. Just think on it, okay?” With his free hand, he nudges your glass closer to you, and you notice now the cuts and scrapes on his hands. How rough they look next to yours, more conspicuous when his knuckles brush up against your hand gripped tight around the glass. “Drink up. I’ll take you home after this one.”

[mikalei]

————————— Murder in My Mind +18

Killer!Husband!Scaramouche x Fem!reader

Modern AU

Synopsis: your work as a detective was never easy; you have been assigned to another murder case and was tasked to find and apprehend this killer, but what if it was someone you never expected—what if it was someone closer to you than you think…

tw: ya’ll thought it was fluff at first but it’s not lol, eventual smut, mentions of death, killings, knife, blood, violence, psychotic behavior, weird obsessive behavior,; contains: sexual activity, vaginal sex, oral sex, creampie, vaginal fingering, shower sex, rough sex, marking, biting, tit sucking, cunnilingus, and many more!..

cw: no use of Y/n, implied female reader, Scara calls reader “darling, my love,gorgeous, and my wife”, Scara is secretly a psycho but we still love him, not proofread.

part ii: prev ; masterlist ; ??

A/n: based on a c.ai bot made by Haniyyah (click hyperlink to visit their tt page, don’t forget to follow them!). If you’re reading this, I love how you write your bots. The prompt and idea was all from their Killer Scaramouche bot, this fic is based solely on what I encounter while using it. (Also I didn’t add the twins part in this story, I don’t want traumatised childrens on my fic just yet). Also sorry if there are any grammatical mistakes, I haven’t written anything for 2 years, I’m still getting the hang of it.

I woke up at the the smell of freshly brewed coffee coming from outside of the bedroom, it took me a second until I come to my senses and realize the event that happened when I got back from work, blood rushed to my cheeks as I now notice a red hand print on my waist and thighs.

“jesus christ, does he really need to be so rough to me during sex?“ I thought to myself. As I examine myself more, I just realized that I’m still naked. I look for something to cover my body, I’m not really in the mood to put some clothes on but I can’t just walk around butt naked in my house.

Soon, I successfully grabbed one of my husband’s black hoodie after limping towards his drawer—due to how sore my legs are after what happened, and put it on after looking for a fresh pair of panties.

I looked at the clock in our room as it states that it is already an hour past twelve. “Good thing that today’s my day off.”. I then head to the kitchen, still limping to which I assume where my husband is and I was right. There he was shirtless, wearing only his gray sweatpants and and apron as he puts some bacon into the pan.

His toned back is facing towards me he seem to be focused on the food that he is cooking. I just stand there, leaning on the table for support since I have a hard time walking let alone standing up. As I admire his body, I start to notice the red scratch marks he has on his back.

“Did I do that? Holy hell, that must sting so bad…” I thought to myself once again when I got interrupted by Scara speaking.

“My love, if you keep staring at me I might just melt” he chuckles as he turn off the stove and put the bacon and coffee on the table. He took off the apron he is wearing and hang it to the rack, before walking to me, pulling me in for a hug.

“Good afternoon, darling. I just woke up a few hours ago” he said as he kissed my forehead. I buried my head on to his neck as I lean in more to the hug. Being with him really gives me a sense of comfort. “You smell like bacon” I mumble to him to which makes him chuckle.

He picked up the chair that’s tucked in the table and let me sit there before pushing it closer back to the table ,then sitting on the chair across mine. We start to eat the breakfast he served.

While eating, he decided to spoke up once again. “Oh by the way, Hun, your boss was calling you earlier, but you’re still asleep and won’t wake up even with how irritating your phone’s ringtone is” he said the last part jokingly, to which I act like I was offended but then laughed it off. “My boss? You mean my manager?” I asked. “Not sure, I think the caller’s id was Gunnhildr?” He said as he take a sip of his coffee.

“Huh? That’s weird she won’t usually call me directly, most of the time she’ll just contact our manager if ever she wants to relay a message to me” I said as I look for my phone. I opened the contacts and listen to the voicemail her assistant left.

“Hello, this is President Gunnhildr’s office, I’m sorry to inform you that the head of your department has unfortunately passed away, his body was seen in an alley way near a bar and another detective is handling the case right now. The president wanted to offer her condolences to his family, friends and co-workers. She understand that you may also be grieving at his death so she’ll let you take some time off to properly grieve at his loss, as we look for someone who will take his place. We’ll keep you updated if we found a new replacement for him.”

The voicemail then ends, as I feel my blood run cold from the news I received. Scara looks at me concerned about what happened. He reached out his hands to hold mine to grab my attention. “Baby? What’s wrong? You’ve gone pale. Is everything alright at work?” Scara looks so concerned, he stood up from his seat and hugged me from behind.

“Remember the manager I was talking about last night? He was found dead in an alleyway earlier this morning…” I whispered, almost like there was something blocking my throat that stops me from speaking in a normal voice.

“Oh my… I’m sorry to hear that my love, it must be so devastating.” Scara turned me around so I can hug him too. But while I was nestling my face at the crook of his neck, a satisfied smirk in planted on husband’s face. Hearing about his work makes him so happy, and he knows deep down, you also feel some sort of relief knowing that there’s no one going to harass you on your work any longer.

Scara cleared his throat before breaking the hug. “So…uhm, what else did the voicemail said? Do you have to go to work today? Did they assign you to more work?” Scaramouche switches back to an empathetic look as he cups my cheeks on his large hands.

“No, my boss said that I can take a few days break because of what happened.” And with that my husband’s face almost lit up. He was again wearing that same dorky grin he has when he wants to do something he has in mind.

“What’s with that face?” I looked at him as he continues to wear a wide grin. “You know… I remembered we haven’t got the time to celebrate our wedding anniversary a few weeks ago because you’re always busy…” He implies, “…and I have been saving up for this really fancy date on a fancy private beach house that I rented on a fancy island…”

My eyes went wide when I heard what he had done. “You what?! Are you serious?!” The thought of my manager’s death instantly left my mind. “How long have you’ve been planning this?” I was still shocked at how he managed to those things, not that it’s the first time that we went on a fancy date but what he just said is way more fancier than the dates we used to have.

“I’ve been making all the arrangements for more than a month ago and coincidentally, the beach house is available right now and I’ve already bought the plane tickets for the both of us.” By this time I was speechless, how could he do all of this in such a short notice? I was just staring at him, mouth slightly open and still shocked with all of this.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? Did you not like it?” He asked, I can sense him pouting already. “No no no, I was just…surprised… wow, I mean, you really did all of that?” He just gave me a nod and I just swooned over him. I pressed a ton of kisses around his face while muttering “i love you so much” and “you’re amazing”

Scara just chuckled at my reaction “glad you like it, now the trip last for 5 days, and we can get on a flight tomorrow evening, why don’t we prepare today, maybe buy something for the trip?” He suggested, to which I agree. I almost ran to our bedroom to get change when I remembered that my body is still aching from last time.

My husband just looks at me with a smirk, “oh what’s the problem darling? Can’t walk properly” he teased as he now take in the sight in front of him: red marks are plastered all over my neck down to the cleavage of my breast. He looks so proud at his work before a playfully hit him. “You did this” I said to which he only reply with a chuckle, “and I will do it again” he smirked as he picked me up in a bridal style as he walk to our bedroom.

A few moments later, after we finally got dressed, we head on to the mall to buy the stuff we need. As we are walking, browsing from store to store, one had caught my attention. The lingerie shop. I grinned as a fun thought came to mind.

“Oh shoot, babe I think I left my phone at the car, can you go and get it for me? My shopping list is on my notes” It was a lame excuse but knowing my husband for more than eight years and being married to him for three, he will definitely do what I’ll ask even if it doesn’t make sense. Of course I would do the same for him.

“Ok, wait for here, I’ll be back shortly” he left after leaving a kiss on my cheeks. Once he has fade in the crowd, I immediately walked in to the shop.

I look in between the aisles, searching for something that will definitely surprise my husband, and indeed I saw the perfect one, this is way different than the ones I buy but since my dear husband made so much effort for this vacation, I ought to repay his kindness right? I giggle to myself as I pay for the lingerie. I hid it in my purse so he wont see it. It’ll be my gift for him once we arrived at the vacation.

After a few moments, I called Scara over the phone, I have it with me all these time, though I feel guilty for making him run to the car and look for my phone but again I’ll repay his efforts later.

After explaining to him that the phone was actually in my bag, and apologizing to him, he came back to the mall and we went on and buying the stuff we need.

Once we got back home, we started packing our things and soon get ready for bed. I was brushing my teeth at the bathroom’s sink when I felt a pair of arms wrapped around my waist, I looked at the reflection in the mirror to see my husband is clinging onto me.

“Yes? May I help you” I asked but all I can hear was mumbling as he hid his face in the crook of my neck. I finished brushing my teeth and that’s when my husband decided to start trailing kisses on my neck. Soon he found the spot that makes my legs quiver and starts to abuse it.

“Hun…you’re gonna leave a mark again-ah!” I squeal, his hands is now groping my breast—I wasn’t wearing any bra now since we were about to sleep. He is playing with my now hardened nipples through my shirt as he continues to suck on my skin.

“What has gotten-nggh hah- into you?” I tried to speak but he just continue his ministrations getting harsher and harsher each second. I’m starting not too like this. “Scara…scara…stop!” And just then he finally listened to me. I looked at him confusedly. “ ‘m sorry darling, I-I just…” he kept silent, he looks down at his feet before leaving the bathroom after giving me a kiss on the cheeks.

Now I felt bad, he looks so sad after I stopped him. I don’t usually mind it when he suddenly does something like that but somehow tonight was different. I finished preparing for bed, I saw a newly placed red mark over the hickeys that he also gave me from our last intimate moment. I went to our shared bedroom. There I saw him, sitting at the edge of the bed, his head still hung low.

I slowly approach him and sat next to him, I put a hand on his back and when I saw him flinch from my touch, I felt like my heart drops to my stomach. “Oh, darling… look I’m sorry about earlier… I was just stressed, my boss told me I need to go to work tomorrow even if I already told them we’re going to a vacation. You know how busy I’ll get when I’m at work and I might go home very late and I don’t want to miss our flight tomorrow night.” He kept rambling to me as I listen to him.

After he stops, I just pulled him into a hug “hey, it’s okay. You can go to work tomorrow, I don’t really mind.” He tightens the hugs as he puts his head again on my shoulder. “But our vacation, I planned the whole thing and you rarely have time for vacation, this is a once in a lifetime chance!” He rambles, “hey hey it’s okay, I’m okay with it my love. If it’s an urgent matter then you should go.” I said as I pulled away from the hug.

He still looks so stressed over his work so I decided to distract him. I pulled him once again for a kiss, a long passionate one. He was surprised at first but soon he returned the kiss, although he is still quite tense as I climbed on his lap.

“B-but… I thought… you don’t want to-mmph” he said as he tried to pull away from the kiss. “Shh, just relax. Do you want to do this?” I asked him, he stopped for a moment before giving me a small nod. “Words my dear, use your words” I lift his chin to make him look directly into my eyes, he looks so desperate. I can already feel his cock going hard under me-almost feels like he’s not wearing anything under his shorts.

“Yes, please~” he whines, I immediately crash my lips back to his as I slowly grind on his hardened dick while his hands are placed on my waist. I move my kisses to trace his jawlines down to his throat, as I start to suck on his neck, he kept whimpering. My mind was set on pleasuring him tonight, making sure he is free from any stress.

“D-darling nggh~” He released a loud moan as I start to palm his cock through his damp shorts, now I’m 100% sure he doesn’t wear anything under his shorts as his shorts is now wet with his pre-cum. “Yes yes, just relax baby~ I’ll take care of you tonight. Let me take away all your stress.” I stepped down from his lap and kneel in between his legs. He looks at me with desperation and lust on his eyes.

I trail kisses on his clothed bulge, before pulling down his shorts and freeing his cock that hits his belly. He takes a sharp breathe when I start to pump his dick. I start giving the tip a few licks before taking half of his dick in my mouth. His head was immediately thrown back when I started sucking him, his hand is tangled on my hair, pulling it up like a ponytail before trying to push my head down to take all of him.

I looked up at him as he breathe heavily while moaning my name, I can see his eyes roll back every time I bobbed my head down. “Darling-hah oh yes! God you’re mouth feels so great mhmp” he whines more, I feel his dick start twitching in my mouth indicating that he’s close. He is now thrusting his hips to gain more friction, fucking his dick in to the back of my throat, he is already lost in the pleasure as I feel the wetness dripping from my cunt.

“Shit shit shit-aah fuck! ‘m coming! Can I come in your-hah mouth d-darling?” He said to which I just bobbed my head faster, chasing his high. Soon, he cums down my throat with a loud moan while pushing my head deeper, his dick is hitting the back of my throat as he releases more of his load.

After finally calming down from his high, he pulls out his dick from my mouth. He looks at me while he holds my cheek with one hand, I swallowed his cum and pulls out my tongue to show him. He just smiled at me and help me stand up.

Just as he thought I was finished, I pulled down my panties, before sitting down back on his lap and grinds on his cock once again. “Shit…” I muttered as the tip of his dick grind on my clit. I adjusted myself before inserting his dick inside me, which made him moan once again.

“Oh fuck! So good~” I moaned as I felt his cock hit the spot that makes me see stars. I started to ride him slowly, bouncing on him as his hands are on my hips, guiding me. “Mmhm i love you-hah, i love you so much… my darling wife hnngh” he kept whimpering as he now controls the pace, thrusting his hips harder as he makes me ride him.

I pulled him once again to a kiss, my hand is on his shoulder for support while the other one is tugging on his hair, which makes him whimper in to the kiss. “I love you so much… baby~ aahh nghh” I couldn’t help but feel the ecstasy overflowing me as he kept pounding on that same spot. Sooner or later, we both ended up cumming on the same time, before laying down on the bed. He still hasn’t pulled out yet as some of his come drips down my thighs.

We are both breathing heavily, we pulled each other for one last kiss before sleep engulf us.

Extra notes!:

Another part done! First, I’d like to apologize for not uploading earlier, our vacation started last week but there are still a lot of things we had to do, especially the preparation for our recognition that happens today (I was one of the honor students so yay!). Secondly, this part might seem rushed especially the smut scene, don’t worry, I will get back at the next part. Lastly, I still don’t know how I will end this story, I don’t really have a story board for this, I just wrote it after I enjoyed the c.ai bot version of this. So I’m not sure how much part this will have.

Oh and also I’m accepting request, I still don’t have any rules regarding it, but you can still send in your requests already, I’m fine with writing whatever you want as long as it doesn’t mention incest, underage sex, or any particular trauma like SA.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Two: Electric Boogaloo

Day 7: Mechanical Intervention (Overstimulation)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Engineer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Engie keeps going to bed late in the night and decided to make sure you don’t feel neglected.

Tags: Overstimulation, inappropriate use of the Gunslinger, vibrators

Word Count: 2.7k

The Masterlist

The oversized shirt you wore to bed was far more important to you than most would think. Having once belonged to Dell, you had ‘borrowed’ it from his half of the dresser one night when you happened to forget to do your laundry. Now it was an item of comfort for you. It made you feel like he was here with you, even though the two of you had been apart for so long.

You rolled your eyes, realizing for a moment how melodramatic you were being. It wasn’t like Engie had gone off to war. In fact, he was literally under the same roof as you, just a few rooms away in his workshop. However he had been holed up in there for so many nights now, working tirelessly on his sentries and dispensers, writing calculation after calculation, all of which you had no hope of understanding. To put it frankly, you missed him.

With a sigh, you opened the door of your shared room, glancing down the hall towards the workshop. You could see the light shining from under the crack in the door, indicating that he was still hard at work. You began to walk towards that light, unsure of what your goal was exactly. It wasn’t likely, but maybe you could convince him to turn in early for once. At the very least, it would be nice to pay him a visit.

You opened the door to the workshop slowly, finding Engie sitting in a chair, hunched over some blueprints with a half disassembled sentry at his side. It was a position you had found him in many times before. It was a wonder how his back wasn’t in constant pain. You walked up behind him, not realizing how quiet you had been until you wrapped your arms around Engie’s shoulders, only for him to jump before realizing that it was just you.

“Good lord, darlin,’ don’t sneak up on me like that!” he said, holding a hand to his chest. Engie was always weary about being approached from behind, especially with how often he was the victim of spies on the battlefield. That fact had apparently slipped your mind.

“Sorry,” you sighed, nestling your face against his shoulder. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

“What’s wrong?” Engie asked, noticing the twinge of sadness in your voice. “Aren’t you usually in bed by now?”

You held onto him tighter, biting your lip. Eventually, you decided not to hesitate and simply come out with it. “Come back to bed.” You could tell by the sigh you got in response that you weren’t going to get the answer you were hoping for.

“I’m sorry darlin.’ You know I have to get my work done first.”

You walked around to face Engie, giving the best damn puppy dog eyes you could muster. You weren’t too proud to beg. “Please, Dell?”

His eyes lit up at the use of his real name, softening as he reached out and pulled you close. “Oh honey, I’ve been neglecting you, haven’t I?” he asked. You nodded, letting yourself be pulled into Engie’s lap. “You sweet thing.”

He leaned in to kiss you. You eagerly reciprocated, desperate for the sensation of his lips against yours. It was more than the two of you had shared in at least a week, and you were practically starved for it. You tugged incessantly at his shirt, a silent plea for more. When you parted for breath you pressed your face into his shoulder again, muffling a needy whine.

“Now, I might not be able to come back to bed just yet, but I know the perfect way to make it up to you,” Engie said, pulling at the waistband of your pajama bottoms. You quickly stood and removed them yourself, leaving you in nothing but your underwear and a loose fitting shirt. Before you could take off anything else you were pulled back into Engie’s lap. “You look cute like that, you know?” he said. “In nothing but my shirt and your panties, just lovely.”

You blushed, but gave him a confused look. “Well, the shirt can stay, but doesn’t the underwear kinda have to come off eventually?”

“Not necessarily,” Engie said with a hint of mischievousness in his voice. His gloved hand ran up your thigh, and you let out a soft sigh. His other hand rested on the small of your back, keeping you steady and secure on his lap. Your body was already beginning to heat up as he reached your hip, caressing you gently and making you whimper. Usually such a small gesture wouldn’t get a reaction out of you, but it had been so long.

It felt like an eternity before he finally moved to run his fingers over your clothed slit. “Oh fuck,” you murmured as the fabric slowly began to dampen. You leaned your head on Engie’s shoulder, eyes rolling.

“That’s it, just relax and enjoy yourself,” Engie whispered into your ear, placing soft kisses on your jawline and trailing down to your neck. You moaned softly, unable to resist the urge to roll your hips as his fingers found your clit. How were you already so close? You must have been really pent up. “Are you close already, sweetheart?” Engie asked, seeing how you were squirming in his lap.

“I think so,” you stammered, gripping Engie’s shirt as you tried to hold back. “Fuck, it just feels so good.”

“You poor, sweet thing,” he crooned. “Laying all by your lonesome for so long. I’ll bet you haven’t even touched yourself in the past week.”

He wasn’t wrong. Most of the time you just went to sleep, hoping you would get some attention the next day. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the desire or the means to get yourself off, you just wanted to let your need build. You knew that the more it built the more rewarding it would be when Engie finally made time for you, and in a way, you were now getting exactly what you had been craving.

“How about you just go on and come for me?” he said, smirking as he circled your clit with his fingers. “I know you want to, and I wanna see it. I don’t want you to hold back.”

The idea that Engie was eager to see you come coupled with the pressure of his fingers was enough to push you over the edge. You called out his name in broken syllables, gripping onto him tightly as you rode out your orgasm.

“Ah ah, keep those pretty eyes open,” he said. You hadn't even realized you had been squeezing your eyes shut until he pointed it out. “I want you to look at me, honey.” You groaned, opening your eyes with some struggle. The look of admiration on Engie’s face immediately made the effort worth it.

You were breathless, panting as he held you in his arms. Your face was flushed down to your neck and the fabric of your underwear was slick with your release. You looked like a proper wreck, yet you couldn’t be happier, especially since Engie hadn’t stopped showering you with kisses since you came down from your high.

“So pretty,” he sighed. “I want to see more. You can come again for me, right sweetheart?”

Oh, you liked the sound of that. You gave him a nod and a breathless, “I think so.” You lifted your head from his shoulder, pressing your lips to his in a surprisingly chaste kiss. “Just be gentle. I’m still sensitive.”

“Of course. Here, let’s get these out of the way.” He pulled your underwear down your legs, letting them drop to the floor. You spread your legs wider, watching as Engie removed his glove, revealing his prosthetic hand.

The Gunslinger had always fascinated you. In fact your inquiries about that marvel of craftsmanship was what had initially drawn you and Engie together. The metal glinted in the yellow glow of the workshop’s lights, highlighting every miniscule detail.

When those mechanical fingers ran over your thigh, you were pleasantly surprised to find that they weren’t cold at all. You had no idea how, but despite being made of metal, the Gunslinger always seemed to match an average human’s body temperature. Sometimes it could even be a bit warmer, which was quite comforting if you wanted some extra heat on an especially cold night. You whimpered as his fingers dipped between your thighs, slowly pressing into you.

Engie watched your face, checking for any sign that you were uncomfortable, that it was too much. When he saw none he continued, sliding his fingers into you to the last knuckle. That earned some louder sounds from you, especially when he began thrusting his digits in and out. You were lucky that no one but Engie came to this part of the base during this time of night. Anyone who overheard you would have immediately known exactly what was going on within the workshop.

“I love those noises of yours. I wonder how loud you can get?” he mused, watching your expression melt into one of ecstasy. Then those fingers curled inside you, striking that sensitive bundle of nerves that was guaranteed to have you moaning. And you most certainly did moan, bucking against his fingers with a harsh cry. However your sounds only reached their peak when Engie paired the curling of his fingers with the stroking of his thumb over your clit.

Your thighs shook as you came again, arching back as your fingers dug into Engie’s leg. You would have fallen to the floor if it wasn’t for his free arm being wrapped firmly around you, keeping you seated safely on his lap. “God damn, that was intense,” Engie chuckled. “I must be doing a good job!”

“Don’t tease me,” you gasped, still trying to catch your breath as your orgasm subsided.

“I would never, darlin.’ But I can’t deny that you're boosting my ego a bit, and I appreciate that.” He waited for you to come down fully, your breathing evening out and your trembling beginning to subside before he continued. “Now, there was one more thing I wanted to show you, if you’re up for it. You see that button at the base of the Gunslinger?” You nodded, following his gaze and immediately spotting the red button where metal met flesh. You were pretty sure it had always been there. It never even occurred to you to ask what its purpose was. “How about you go ahead and press it,” he suggested.

That was all the temptation you needed. Nervously, you reached out and pressed the button, only to let out a startled gasp when the metal appendage started vibrating. “Holy shit,” was all you managed to say in response, making Engie laugh.

“Yeah, that was about the reaction I expected,” he said. “I’ve been working on this in my free time. It was originally gonna be a Valentine's Day gift, but I just couldn’t wait to show it off.”

You were both impressed and baffled. “Are you telling me this is what you’ve been doing in this workshop these past several nights?”

“Not entirely,” Engie said. “Like I said, it was just a pet project.”

You sighed, knowing that you were still recovering from your second orgasm. A third would be a difficult feat, but you couldn’t deny your own curiosity. Where else would you find a man who would literally program his own hand for your pleasure? Plus, you liked the idea of a challenge. “Well, how about we take this little innovation for a test drive?” you asked, giving Engie a seductive look.

He mirrored your expression. “I was hoping you would say that, sweetheart.”

Engie took everything much slower this time, only circling around your clit. Any direct stimulation would surely overwhelm you, and he didn’t want that, at least not yet. Still, you immediately started trembling, not at all prepared for the intensity of the vibrations. That’s not to say it didn’t feel quite nice though. You bit your lip, stifling any moans that tried to escape.

“Don’t start holding back on me now, honey,” Engie said the moment he noticed you were trying to keep quiet. “I wanna hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He began kissing your neck, rubbing firmer circles until your muffled whimpers turned into full on moans once again.

His fingers slipped into you, offering a whole new range of intensity as they curled and thrust against your most sensitive spots. You rocked shamelessly against his palm, forcing his fingers deeper. It was exhausting yet so immensely pleasurable. You bucked and he worked his fingers, both of you ever so gradually working towards a third orgasm.

When you finally did come it happened rather suddenly, starting as a small building of pleasure that quickly escalated until your thighs were quivering and your back was arching. The sound you made when you climaxed was more akin to a sob than a moan.

“Good girl. There’s even more where that came from,” Engie said, not even pulling his fingers out. The implication was clear.

“Dell, I don’t know if I can,” you whimpered.

“Just one more time for me, darlin’,” Engie said between soft kisses to your forehead and cheeks. “I know you can do it.” His words and his touch were paradoxically comforting and overwhelming. Still, you were effectively tempted to try, signaling your willingness with a shaky nod. Even so, you couldn’t stifle your rather harsh reaction to the feeling of the vibrations becoming stronger.

“Dell! Oh fuck!” Your body sizzled, every sensation feeling like electricity on your skin. If your mind had been clearer you would have been astounded at the effort it must have taken to add not only a vibration function to the Gunslinger, but also multiple settings for said vibrations. However your mind was anything but clear. Engie may have been speaking to you, perhaps crooning words of praise, talking about how much he enjoyed your sensitive body, or how helplessly adorable you looked when you squirmed in his lap. Whatever it was, it all faded into the background as your other senses began to take over.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as the pleasure became overwhelming, almost unbearable. It was a constant barrage of touches, moans, and trembling bodies. There was barely any buildup to the fourth and final orgasm, only an unwavering sensation and a sudden, shaking, screaming climax that seemed to hit you out of nowhere, leaving your body as an over sensitive wreck, squirming and reaching for anything to ground yourself.

That thing you were reaching for ended up being Engie himself. You clutched onto him for dear life even long after the aftershocks had faded, still shaking, face red and hot from a few tears that managed to escape. “I’ve got you, darlin,’” Engie whispered, keeping you steady even as your body trembled beneath his touch. The last thing he wanted was you falling off his lap. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”

Slowly, your body stopped shivering and your death grip on Engie’s shoulders finally loosened, leaving you to go limp in his arms. Your tears dried and your heart rate dropped, the rush of adrenaline fading until all you were left with was blissful relaxation.

“I’m guessing that you’re more than satisfied now, aren’t you, sweetheart?” Engie asked, allowing himself a smug look once he was sure you had recovered enough. “Did I manage to make up for all the nights that I missed?”

You let out a weak laugh. “God, you definitely did. I just hope you don't expect me to go back to bed. There’s no way I’m going to be able to walk back to our room after that.”

Engie chuckled, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. “Of course not, honey. Just relax here.” His hand rubbed up and down your back, a soothing and welcome sensation to your still quite sensitive body. “Just close your eyes. If you fall asleep, I’ll carry you back to bed, alright?”

“And you’ll stay, right?” you asked, looking up at him hopefully. He gave you a soft smile, brushing your hair out of your face and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Of course darlin.’ I’ll stay.”

[sockmeat]

What are y’all’s thoughts on Crimson from HB?? Like obviously he’a a piece of shit, but there is literally so much potential for dark content my mind is BUZZING

I HAVE SOME IDEAS... ok i only have 2 (just a warning, they’re a little dark)

SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

THE FIRST ONE: The reader is Moxxie’s little sister. When Moxxie goes to jail and chooses to stay away from his hometown and family, he forgets one thing--his little sister.     Ever since Moxxie left, Crimson has been telling reader how much Moxxie hates her, how much he hates the family, how much he wanted to get away from her.

    So, reasonably, the reader grows to resent Moxxie. Occasionally, she’ll think about what life outside of the mansion is like. She’ll remember how Moxxie treated her, how he made sure she was never around for Crimson’s fits, and wonder if he doesn’t actually hate her.

    Crimson has gotten good at spotting when this happens: she’s less willing to listen to his commands, she’s always spacing out, and always looking at Moxxie’s empty room. He’s always quick to snip that hesitance in the bud and warp her perspective of her dear older brother. She’s always been a daddy’s girl (and hasn’t really had a taste of a healthy relationship), so she believes him.

    When the IMP is called over to the mansion, Crimson doesn’t tell the reader that Moxxie is there. He is fiercely protective of her and knows Moxxie would try to save her.

    Crimson’s reason for inviting Moxxie doesn’t change. He wants Moxxie to marry Chazwick. However, this time, Crimson does have a back-up plan: if Crimson is unable to marry Chazwick, for whatever reason, the reader will marry him instead.

    I haven’t quite decided how Moxxie and the reader will reunite, but I don’t want it to be too soon. Maybe she’s attracted to the commotion Millie causes and enters the wedding and barely sees Moxxie before he’s swooped off.

THE SECOND IDEA: The reader is Moxxie’s mother and Crimson’s wife. She basically replaces the actual character. Unfortunately for her, she has a bit of a savior complex so she aims to try and help Crimson’s state of mind.

    They met before Moxxie was conceived. Her family is a part of a smaller chain of the mafia and basically relies on the (wtf is their last name??) family to keep their connections and stay out of debt.

    The reader’s and Crimsons’ marriage was arranged. It was decided since before they were born that the oldest of their families, which happened to be them, would wed and have an heir.

    Unfortunately for the reader, both families have a pretty sexist point of view. They believe the women should serve their husbands and make sure the children are spoken for. Among the long list of no-no’s, she isn’t allowed to raise a fist to Crimson. She hasn’t been taught basic self defense to ensure she doesn’t break this rule.

    At first, Crimson is very clear about his hatred for her. Though, since he’s so adamant about not disrespecting the family, he only expresses it when they’re behind closed doors.

    The reader still tries despite how he treats her. She’s determined to live a normal life, and if that means risking it to get closer to Crimson, so be it. It’s all or nothing.

    The reader’s story is a bit like the ugly duckling. Until her mid-teen years, she has no idea how to dress, pose, or look flattering at all. Crimson continues to be rude and unforgiving until she gets her glow-up.

    That’s when he starts to notice her more. How she doesn’t raise her voice at him no matter what he does to pester her, how she somehow finds a reason to forgive him despite everything, how her boobs have grown since they were kids--

    Yeah, he pretty much jumps her bones whenever he gets the opportunity. Moxxie is born and the reader stops trying to please Crimson 24/7 to take care and nurture Moxxie.

That’s about as far as I got on that...

I do wanna write these, but I’m not sure how big the Crimson Simps(TM) sections will go considering he’s a douche bag

Let me know!