#i have no one my age or w the same vibe as me to talk to around here
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my roman empire is that bllk actually has a fandom inside the bllk universe (yk with bllk tv and all), do you think they do the same shit we do? like fanarts, fanfics? do you think the members watch velocity edits of themselves? is there a josh hutcherson edit equivalent of a bllk member? you think one of them said smth that became an online meme and has become a sound on tiktok? you think fans debate online on who shouldve gotten eliminated the way kpop survival show fans do? you think one of them has gotten canceled for the most miniscule things meanwhile shidou does the absolute most yet people brush past it?
#ive been thinking too much lately someone should sedate me#guys im so lonely#i have no one my age or w the same vibe as me to talk to around here#and bcs of the time difference most of my friends are only online for a bit#and then i spend the day spacing out not really there#why am i ranting wtf ok nvm#blue lock#bllk
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Death Note au for BSD?? yes please >:))
Younger Dazai as Light- Odasaku died a year ago, robbing his life of any colour it had, and he puts on a bubbly facade around his classmates and friends (the ADA) but in reality struggles to feel anything. One day he comes across the death note, and is stunned as he realizes its powers.
Oda had told him before he died to ‘be on the side that saves people’ (same as canon) and Dazai realises that the death note is his chance to fix the world, becoming Kira to get rid of criminals who (in his mind) killed his best friend.
(An older, less immature Dazai like in the series might have made a different choice, but in this au he’s more like 15-yr-old PM Dazai- except still traumatized from Oda)
Mori as Ryuk, who explains the power of the shinigami to him, amused with Dazai's decision to kill criminals using the notebook (He'd look even more terrifying than Ryuk as a shinigami tbh, less monstrous and more human-like but that makes him all the more eerie).
Akutagawa as Misa, holder of the second death note and puts Kira up on a pedestal, revering him for murdering the criminal who killed his family. Dazai uses him to further his goals, feeling nothing towards him although the younger boy borderline worships him (pretty similar to canon).
Chuuya as L, along with the rest of the PM as the police force. In this au Chuuya still has a hot temper but it’s more of a controlled, and efficient rage- he might be amiable in company but as soon as the door slams shut he’s gritting his teeth, kicking his chair back as he takes his anger out on a new case.
(At first I thought Chuuya as L might not fit due to the differences in intelligence, but really Chuuya is far smarter than he lets on- he's a tad gullible though)
Kouyou as Watari, who discovered 8-year-old Chuuya and brought him to an orphanage for intellectually gifted children (Wammy’s House), and being the most intelligent he became almost like an uncrowned king. Aka a parallel with the king of the sheep, if you will.)
#lol I was shocked to find no one had done this yet#could've sworn the death note to bsd pipeline was real#idk the shows just have so much in common in my opinion#maybe that's just me lmao#this au is also more angsty since the ADA all consider Dazai a friend but he feels close to nothing towards any of them#chuuya feels like the first friend he's ever had and vice versa#also I love the older sister vibe kouyou has w/ chuuya#I wish ppl talked about it more like they're so wholesome asdhjfa#so ofc I'm making it a thing in this au#kouyou rescued chuuya and he feels he's never been able to pay back that debt#and although he technically employs her in this au they still have that same dynamic as canon lol#she def lightly ribs him for being gay for dazai#and he just rolls his eyes bc the bitch is so wrong its unfunny- there's no way he'd fall for that shitty dazai...#right?#ykw on second thought I'm so tempted to write this myself if no one else has💀#I've been meaning to write bsd for ages but haven't gotten to it lol#bsd dazai#bsd chuuya#bungou stray dogs#bsd anime#dazai osamu#chuuya nakahara#bsd#college au#university au#light yagami#l lawliet#l death note#shin soukoku#bungou gay dogs
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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.
#deoboyznet#sunwoo#the boyz#sunwoo fluff#sunwoo x reader#sunwoo angst#the boyz angst#the boyz fluff#the boyz x reader#the boyz scenario#the boyz imagine#sunwoo scenario#sunwoo imagine
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Does your mother know?
Summary: "Now you're so cute, I like your style
And I know what you mean when you give me a flash of that smile"
When a new Ferrari driver crosses paths with the one and only Sebastian Vettel.
Rating: +18
Warnings: shameless smut, age gap, grief/mourning, slight mdom vibes, y/n being a brat, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (wrap it before you tap it!!!)
Word count: 4.8k
Note: more filthy fiction w/ seb! they have a 8/10 year age gap, if that bothers you- don’t read!
masterlist
There's that look in your eyes
I can read in your face that your feelings are driving you wild
Ah, but girl, you're only a child
You were the new Ferrari driver. That was amazing, you weren't the first AFAB racing, yet the only one to get in a position as high as that, in a top team. Charles Leclerc was your teammate and you knew him before, you were good friends, you often went out with him and his younger brother, who was closer to your age. The pre-season tests in Bahrain happened, but you didn't talk to the other drivers, more out of insecurity and fear of someone judging you, you preferred to stay in your corner, studying about the car and its possibilities.
Thursday and the day went very well, just press conference day. You saw some drivers, said hello and introduced yourself, but nothing too big, because the focus was different.
Friday was the day. Free practice to test how ready the car was for your style of racing. You arrived early and had lunch alone at the Ferrari hospitality, waiting for the weather to get milder so you could do the paddock walk. When you decided to go, you found Sebastian Vettel doing the same, alone; as soon as he saw you, he started to slow down to keep the same pace. Initially, you preferred to stay silent, you didn't want to bother him anyway - and as you consider yourself an annoying person in general, it would be better to keep your mouth shut anyway. He probably noticed your insecurity-and in a way, fear-of starting a conversation, so he decided to start it.
"Welcome to Formula 1." He smiled and you couldn't deny it, he had his charm. "I've heard a lot about you."
"I hope it was only the good stuff."
"Of course, the newest Scuderia Ferrari driver, who has had an impressive year in Formula 2 and clearly a great contender to take the lead away from the Red Bulls. As well as being the youngest female driver to win that position."
"I'm not that young."
"But you're younger than me, that's for sure." He chuckled low, patting her on the shoulder twice.
"Like you're that old."
"Death is already knocking on my door." You couldn't hold back your laugh and he discreetly paid attention to your reaction, smiling. "Anyway, how are your expectations for the weekend?"
"Great. I hope... Actually, I will get on the podium on Sunday."
"Ambitious, that's what I find amazing about you younger drivers."
"Like you were not the same in your Red Bull days."
"So I've got a fan?" The suggestive tone in Sebastian's voice at that moment didn't arouse anything in you, in your opinion, he was just joining in the fun.
"How could I not? I always saw you as a role model. Especially with your more recent community work.... In fact, if you need someone one day, I'm a person who has a pretty free schedule."
"I'd love to. Mick usually joins me too. Have you met him? You two would become good friends."
"He was from the Ferrari academy, obviously! It's years since I've seen him properly."
You may have understood a pretext that he wanted to set you up with the younger Schumacher, but preferred to ignore - well, that wasn’t actually the case for the moment, he just treated the younger boy as one of his kids. You said your goodbyes, as soon began what you had been waiting for all day.
Practice had been great, the car was living up to your expectations, so the podium you were counting on would come out on Sunday and you could prove to everyone who doubted your ability that yes, you deserved to be among the best. You were radiant, the team director even asked if there was something wrong, since most of the time you remained serious, without smiles and ready to kill someone if necessary; it was as if you could be who you always wanted to be, it was a hard way and the criticism would never stop, but nothing could take away what you were feeling. Going back to your motorhome - since you preferred to spend the weekend there and not in a decent hotel - you saw Vettel walking with his head down, taking his bike and leaving; you thought about saying hello, but he didn't seem to be in a good mood and maybe he wanted to be without anyone in his ears babbling about random things
Meanwhile, on the way back to the hotel, the German's mind could only think of one thing: Ferrari's new driver. Sebastian was conflicted by the conversation with you during the walk, it was strange for him, seeing such a beautiful person and feeling that buzz in his stomach, something he hadn't felt for months. Since Hanna died , he had completely shut down; just thinking about her brought tears to his eyes, because it was hard to live alone after spending since your teenage years by the side of someone you loved, a person who built a family - that now, he juggled between leaving the kids with her family and yours, trying to see them whenever you had a break from racing and that action made you feel guilty, of them not having their father there when they needed him the most. The grief had consumed his body, the first months the only thing that got him out of bed were the race weekends, but with each defeat, his mind weighed more and more; months later, he finally decided to start therapy, he needed to be getting better mentally, he couldn't stay in this situation forever, for the kids, for the team and for everyone that counted on him; and it helped a little, the depression was easier to deal with, the days were lighter, even though the feeling was there. Even though the beaming smile was back around the Paddock and his volunteering to help the environment was back in full swing, it still wasn't enough to make him optimistic about living, even though two years had passed since the whole tragedy and sometimes Hanna's voice came in his head, telling him to move on. For that reason, seeing you walking beside him, smiling and being interested left him with this strange feeling, of a piece of the puzzle finally being found again. He quickly cleared that thought away, it wasn't what he was thinking at all, it was just a happiness to see a person like you on the track - and even if it was a little flare of romance, you were too young for him.
This grief stage wasn’t over, of course, even though he was in the last step: acceptance, although it still hurt deep in his heart and because of it, for a while he hadn’t made the best decisions for his life, however, that stayed only with him. Vettel didn’t open up about it with anyone for a while, friends would come and talk to him, but they only received nods and “I’m fine” type of responses, until the first anniversary of her death, during a Saturday post qualy, where he broke down during an interview and Mick took him back to his driver’s room, on that afternoon he blurted all his feelings out, all the shit he had done during this period, only for two people, Mick and Lewis. Nowadays, he still wasn’t 100% back on his feet again, however, he was trying his best and maybe, the new rookie had something to do with this new motivation.
…..................................................
Your first race was a success, as hard as it was, p3 came with a taste of victory. That night you chose not to go out and celebrate, you were too tired, because something they didn't tell you before was how the car would suck your energy - it was different to what you were used to in Formula 2.
The weeks and your next races were going well, lots of podiums and scoring zones, but still no wins. The situation of not having any wins yet was driving you crazy, no matter how flawless your performance was, the media was starting to get on your nerves with harsh criticism and you hated to admit it, but it annoyed you having to listen to this negativity while other drivers with cars with equal or better machinery than yours who are still winless were getting nothing but praise. The highlight of the week was on Saturday, after an accident during qualifying, you were in Q3 and ready to take your first pole position, but due to Norris braking hard during an 'S' corner in front of you, there was no time to slow down, your car hit the back of the number 4 McLaren, bringing both of them off track and subsequently causing your current times to be deleted and a red flag. You were angry with him and were ready to cuss him out, however after a rather lengthy conversation while your cars returned to the pits, he acknowledged his mistake and you worked it out; even though he admitted it in the post qualifying interviews, there were still allegations and questions about the possible crash being your fault, which made you so angry that he ended the interviews earlier than the others.
On Sunday, even if you started P9, you would do your best to win at Imola, it was a question of honour. You changed strategies with your team, talked to everyone and tried to be as assertive as possible, you knew that they had the ability to make this win happen. Nervousness was running inside you, it seemed that the world would end as soon as the lights turned off. The race was fine, already at the start you had already got p5, the tyre changes were in the time that you had stipulated with the team of what would be better and could hold the others until the end. In the last two laps you were less than a second behind first place, which at the moment was Max, and you wouldn't hesitate to pass him no matter what. Seconds before you crossed the win line, you accelerated the car harder than before, hearing the engine squelching, however it wasn't the moment to stop, not until you passed him; that's what happened, seeing the chequered flag in front of everyone else.
"P1, you are p1." Your response was just to shout back, he was very happy and didn't know what to say.
"P1 piccolina ! You did it." You heard your engineer say on the radio.
"And Charles?" Your voice was still euphoric, you wanted to know where your teammate was standing too.
“P3.”
The interviewers this time were kinder, with several people stopping you and congratulating you on the flawless race you had run. This time you deserved quite a party.
In these weeks you got closer to Vettel, he became a great friend and mentor. You admired him a lot, because he was always a great example and to be able to call him a friend was a privilege, so you didn't hesitate to go and bother him after the race, knocking on the door of his motor home - you knew that he hadn't gone back to the hotel yet, as he always warned you and offered you company on the way back.
"What's up?" his tone of voice was not the most welcoming, maybe he wanted to be alone, however the moment he opened the door and saw it was you, his expression lightened. "Oh, hi. What are you doing here? Do you need anything?"
"Um... So, I won the race..."
"I know... I gave you a hug right after." He cracked a smile, a little confused by the situation.
"Me and a few other drivers... Almost all of them actually, we're going out tonight, it's a nightclub.... I know it's not your style, but it's a celebration and I'd love for you to go." Your face was turning red, it was such a simple request, but you wanted to hide because of sudden shyness. "We reserved some tables near the smaller dance floor, because not everyone is a fan of dancing."
"Do I really need to?" He whined, grimacing and leaning against the stopper.
"Please... Make that sacrifice for me." You gave him the puppy dog look.
He looked at you for a few seconds, wondering whether or not it was really worth it to hang out with several young pilots in a nightclub. "Okay. For you, I'll go." He snapped, sighing loudly, and you gave the German a hug, squealing loudly.
"I'll give you the address! Wear something cool and that doesn't make you look like a middle-aged school teacher."
"Hey! That's an insult against my style."
It was almost 10 o'clock at night, you had just put on your high heels, finally ready; Charles was texting you five times a second, telling you to hurry or he would go alone and you would miss your ride.
When you arrived at the nightclub, you went quickly to the group where the other pilots were, greeting them and drinking your first shot of tequila to open the night properly. Half an hour later, from far away you saw curly blond hair entering the place and at the same moment you knew who it was: Sebastian; he arrived shyly, saying hello to everyone, getting close to you, who gave him a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. You noticed that he took your advice about the outfit, this time wearing light brown jeans, a white tank top with a larger dark green short-sleeved button-up shirt and some black sneakers, but what took your breath away was his hair up in a loose bun with a few strands falling off. Maybe you checked him vigorously, but you could blame the alcohol.
"You're not sober." He commented, discreetly checking your look.
"And you won't be either," And then you handed him a bottle of beer - because you knew he liked it.
Sebastian felt guilty that he was checking your body every five minutes, a conscious voice in his head screamed that you were too young for him, too innocent - I mean, not so innocent, but that made him even more curious. His thoughts were dissipated when he saw you turning a shot of some coloured liquid, paying more attention on what you were going to do or react, his protective instinct was above the desire of wanting you; he didn't comment anything, just watched, disassociating a little bit of reality, having again that little voice that he didn't fit with the others there, that he was too old for this generation.
A few more shots and drinks in, your body already felt lighter. You were chatting with Gasly and Ricciardo, until they came up with the idea of everyone hitting the dance floor - even if most of them weren't the best dancers or didn’t like to, however, when all of them are at least tipsy, they don’t even think before abandoning the tables to go. Vettel hesitated to go with them, so you patted Daniel on the back and said you would be dancing in a few minutes.
“Hey… Don’t you wanna go with us?” You put your hand on his shoulder, looking at him.
“I don’t feel like dancing.” He didn’t look back at you, something was wrong.
“Is something bothering you? You can go if you’re not feeling good here.” Maybe it was the drunk you, but you placed your hand in his neck, making him look at you. “I’m not gonna be upset if you leave. We talked, drinked and it’s okay if you want to go.”
He was hesitating, he didn't know whether to leave or stay there, moments like that were hard; Sebastian was never someone so social, of course in his Red Bull years he partied a lot, but it was never his favourite thing to do. The German looked around and then deposited his eyes on you, still conflicted with all his thoughts running through his head. His biggest dilemma at the moment was about the Ferrari driver, whether he would stay for her, dance along and have fun, finally let go and be able to live a little, move on, on the other hand, this feeling of leaving the past behind was overwhelming. He stood for a few more seconds thinking, while you waited; "what could possibly go wrong?", "what am I being so afraid of?", "why couldn't I make out a little?" , then he sighed low, grabbed another bottle of beer and cracked a smile.
"Let's go to the dance floor." He held her hand. "I can't keep living like this."
"Like what?" Tu asked, not sure what exactly he was talking about.
"Grieving." You didn't know how to answer, for a moment you had forgotten he was a widower, so you just guided him into the huddle of people, squeezing his hand.
You started to dance, letting your body free, it was nice to be able to move to the beat without someone being able to judge you. Daniel came over with two shots of vodka for you, you drank them both quickly and giggled quietly, watching him do the same. This time, the drink hit a little harder, starting to feel the effects of the alcohol more and more. As a result, your movements were dirtier, rolling your hips on your own while your friends were glued to unknown girls or dancing shamefully while drinking. Meanwhile Vettel was trying to dance with the younger drivers, but he felt out of place, he wasn't as young as them anymore, so after a while he started to walk past people to walk back to the table, but he caught your eye first.
"Stay dancing here with me." You held his arm, pulling him closer.
"Are you sure? Because… I can see what you want, but you seem pretty young to be searching for that kind of fun… So maybe I'm not the one to be dancing, call Mick or Charles.
“Stop with this no sense!” You blurted the words, laughing. “Just follow the rhythm, look."
Chloe's song 'Have mercy' started playing and you cracked a smile, starting to move your body slowly, maybe you weren't noticing, but it was in a sexy way that turned Sebastian red, looking sideways until you put your arms around his neck, catching his attention.
"Keep moving with me." He placed his hands on your waist, slowly getting more into the rhythm.
You both forgot about the world around you, dancing just for each other, with your bodies glued together and embarrassed smiles as you tried to keep in rhythm until the song ended. He pulled away a little, brushing a few strands of hair out of his face. “Montero” by Lil Nas X started playing and you cracked a big smile, turning your back to him and letting the older pilot's hands on your waist, rolling your hips against him. It took a few instants before he understood and got into the rhythm, loosening up and starting to have fun with you.
“Does your mother know you dance to older men like that?” He whispered, travelling his hands around your body.
What had happened after, was that you had spent it together, drinking even more and dancing more overtly, which the others noticed-especially Daniel and Charles, who were closer to you, but they would let the matter die. The point of leaving was when the blonde was really wanting to kiss you, but the last shred of notion he had showed.
"Let's go to the hotel." He muttered, with his accent stronger than usual.
You didn't even say goodbye to anyone, you just hailed a taxi and went to his hotel, arriving there and making sure no one saw you together. When you entered the room, he quickly locked the door and came close to you, passing his hands around your waist.
"I hope I didn't get the wrong signals." He then brought your face closer against his, initiating a sloppy kiss that you reciprocated at the same moment, slipping your arms around his shoulders and your hands stopping at his neck, caressing the spot. His tongue was already going against yours in a desperate rhythm, like he waited all night to be with you; when you broke it off to breathe, you looked at him, worried.
“Is it okay? To be kissing… I know you…” You started, but he put his finger on your lips.
“It’s okay… Let’s focus on us.”
So you kissed him again, this time with more urgency than before, allowing yourself to run your hands down his back, gripping the fabric of his button-down shirt. He broke the kiss this time, looking into your face for a few seconds, admiring you, before he started trailing kisses from the back of your ear to the collar of your dress, sucking and licking a few specific spots, which made you whimper with pleasure.
"Can I continue?" He asked as he touched the zip of your dress.
"You don't have to be so gentle, Seb."
"But you deserve it."
"And I say... You can be rough with me, I know you like it." You cracked a smile, disentangling yourself from him and sitting on the bed.
He looked at her for a few seconds, biting his lower lip before he started to move closer, standing between your legs.
“Oh… Since you like to be dominated…” His face got closer to yours where you could smell his breath, but didn’t kiss you. “Strip for me. Now.” He backed off, crossing his arms.
So this was a game and you would follow his rules, with a little bit of a twist. Slowly, you started taking away your high heels, then your panties that you put in his trouser pocket, with only a part of the red lace sticking out and finally you took your red lace bra off, putting it on the ground. Now, you were only wearing your tight black dress with your legs a little bit open while you waited for his response.
“The dress.”
“I want to keep it on.”
“I don’t remember you being in charge.” He whispered, holding your face with one hand. However, when he saw you like that, his body liked it for sure. “You can keep it on, but don’t disobey me again, okay baby?” You nodded.
He started to kiss your neck again, being rougher than before, biting and leaving marks you would regret in the next morning. Meanwhile, his hands were travelling around your body until they stayed at your breasts, pulling down the fabric just for them to pop out; Vettel looked a few seconds at your boobs, before starting to suck one and pinching the other nipple harshly. You moaned his name repeatedly, feeling your core dripping wet from the attention he gave to both of your breasts. Suddenly he stopped, earning a whine from you.
“Wait up, baby…” He backed off, getting on his knees on the floor - you never thought a man could look this hot on their knees.
He opened your legs, starting to kiss every single inch of your thighs in a provocative way and you just whined in the process, because you wanted him tasting you. “What?” He stopped, looking at you, the vision of a messy haired Vettel between your legs made you moan and throw your head back. “I need you to use your words.” As much as you wanted to say, nothing would come out, it was overwhelmingly good to just have that moment. “Lieb, use your words, I’m not going to say again.”
“I want you to taste me.” He looked at you, cracking up a smile.
Then he lowered his head again, leaving a few more kisses, especially on top of your core. The German’s tongue started to move around your clit, moving it in a tortuous pacing so you could feel every move of his; at the beginning you were already chanting his name, putting a hand on top of his head, holding his golden curls around your fingers. Unexpectedly he put two fingers inside you, moving in a quicker rhythm and curling the tips just a little bit, hitting that sweet spot of yours. What made you orgasm for the first time was that besides his fingers working it up inside you, he started to suck gently your clit - you were moaning incoherent words when you hit your climax. Looking at him when he lifted his face towards you with a smile, licking his lips made you let out a wimp, quickly pulling him up and you getting on your knees.
You kept looking at him while you undid his belt and pulled his trousers to the floor, however, his hard-looking dick with leaking pre-cum inside his boxers called more your attention. Slowly, you reached the bar of his underwear, pulling it down and seeing it; you looked up at him before he nodded so you could do what you wanted for a while. You let your tongue pass through his tip, focusing a bit on there, hearing him hold back moan. In one go, you had put his dick in your mouth, feeling it hit your throat, starting it to quickly bob up and down, finally hearing him groaning in pleasure. His hand reached your hair, guiding your head to go slower than you were. “I won’t last long… You’re too good for me.”
You pulled back, looking at him. “Then I want you to finish inside me.”
He smiled at your cockiness, taking the rest of his outfit and laying you on the bed, while he grabbed the condom and the lube.
“Do we have to use it?” You whined.
“Maybe next time we don’t.” He whispered, covering two fingers in lube and pushing them inside you. Him inside you like that made you whimper, looking at him.
“Please, just fuck me.”
“Patience, honey… I don’t want you to feel pain.”
He quickly slid on the condom and spread your legs to his sides, now getting even closer and placing his hands on your sides.
“Ready?”
You nodded, then he adjusted his dick in your entrance, moving in slowly until all of him was inside of you. Sebastian left little kisses up your neck when he saw you closing your eyes, trying to get used to the feeling, only starting to move when you gave him the signal to.
Your walls were clenching around him as he started to pick up his pace, going faster every thrust - this was near pornographic, you were both moaning each others name, fixing your gaze on each other. You could feel every single inch of him inside you going and your climax getting closer, letting your moans even louder - if that was possible. Then Vettel lowered one of his hands, starting to do circles around your clit with two fingers, which made you come for the second time of the night. The blonde wasn’t that far from reaching his either, his thrusts were more erratic and soon he groaned your name close to your ear, laying on top of you.
“That was… Wow.” You whispered, running your fingers along his back.
“Yeah, wow.” He kissed your cheek, slowly disconnecting both of your bodies, which made both of you groan with the sensation. He took off the condom, throwing away “Let’s take a shower before we go to sleep.”
“How clever, staying the night.” You got up, wrapping your arms around him.
After you took a warm shower together - that could have been shorter if you didn’t kept kissing and caressing each other, you two laid on his bed. You were wearing one of his old Ferrari t-shirts and he was only in his boxers, drinking wine - that he already had, from the bottle.
“I always had a crush on you…” You whispered, trailing his abdomen with your fingers. “Teenage me would be very happy, especially that she used to shamefully read smut about you on the internet.”
“Oh, wow… So I have always been your target?” He joked, running his hand up and down your thigh.
“Don’t say it like that! It’s just… You’re too hot to not check out.”
“So I’m winning from younger drivers, with more energy to keep you up all night?” He was still being playful, grabbing your ass and squeezing it.
“Well… You just fucked me and looks like would go for a second round.” You lowered your hand to his boxers. “Besides, I like more mature men, who know how to make me feel good.”
He was at a loss of words, your words had left him red in the face and his classic smile. He placed the wine on the bedside table and pulled your body up, starting to kiss you again.
That night, you still did it two more times, enjoying every second together.
Maybe it was wrong and you would regret in the morning everything you had done together, especially for your reputations within the sport, but that moment was about enjoying what life had to offer you.
#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel x reader#sebastian vettel x you#sebastian vettel fanfic#sebastian vettel imagine#sebastian vettel one shot#sebastian vettel smut#f1 imagine#f1 x you#f1 one shot#f1 fanfiction
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Hiiiii!✨️
Could I request a Floyd with a S/o who's one of their og fans? Like- the reader is such a big fan that they'll do covers of older brozone songs and some of Floyd's newer work at their own concerts sometimes.
The reader is singing their heart out and Floyd is in the crowd like "Wait a minute- I RECOGNIZE THAT SONG-" and after the show he starts fangirling with his s/o bc they actually like his music.
(Bonus points if he gives them a lil smooch at the end-)
TYSM!✨️
𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐆 𝐅𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐍! 𝐒/𝐎
AN: OMLL THIS IS SUCH A CUTE IDEA 😭💕 this is a big bonus for me since i am a floyd (and branch) stan myself so this is a win win
content: fluff, floyd being a cutie, gn! reader (they/them pronouns used), singer! reader, head cannons with a little one shot at the end, not proof read so sorry for any mistakes (might recheck later!
- you considered yourself to be a die hard fan of brozone like if anyone were to ask you anything about any member, you could have an answer in a blink of an eye
- you were the so proclaimed "#1 floyd stan" however, having tons of merch and knowing interesting facts about him
- i mean, how could you not stand him? he was the cutest member in your eyes
- "oh yeah i'm def going to get with floyd, he's literally the same age as me hello? he wants me so bad." - you | "[Y/N], you're delusional. be for real." - your friend
- whenever you had money saved up, you would always use it to go to their concerts
- yeah people called you irresponsible with your money but who cares? all you needed was to see them again!
- floyd and the rest of the group basically inspired you to start singing as well!
- you never admitted it, but your music was heavily inspired by brozone so that’s kinda how it got the attention of your favorite member!
- being a star wasn’t easy, but it was definitely worth it seeing people’s faces light up every time you would sing or just having fans who loved you in general
- one of those fans being floyd (👀)
- that’s basically how you guys met
- he got special permission to go back stage and you almost fainted seeing him this close to you and ACTUALLY talking to YOU!
- a few months after that, you guys started dating and you couldn’t be any happier (beat that, *friend*)
- he was literally the best boyfriend ever
- he always has a gift ready for you and treats you so preciously
- goes all out on special occasions like your birthday, anniversary, etc
- he found your whole floyd collection of merch, cds, posters in your room and he likes to bring it up any chance he gets
- “remember that collection i foun-” “anyways.”
- he was always your #1 supporter and always at your concerts
- once, you decided to do a little something special at your concert
You just finished your last song and the crowd erupted with cheers and screams. Everyone thought that your show was over when they saw you walk out, waving and blowing kisses towards everyone until someone on the speaker came on. “Give it up one more time for [Y/N]! Don’t leave yet though! They have prepared one last thing for you!”
You suddenly come out with a completely different outfit, and everyone in the crowd started cheering again. Floyd, being one of the people in the front, was simply admiring the beauty in front of him, taking polaroid pictures of you that he would definitely add into your shared scrapbook.
You grabbed the microphone and moved it up so it would be at your mouth level. “I just want to say thank you for all the love and appreciation you guys have given me these past few months. It means to w world to me. Now, I’m going to be dedicating these three songs to the most special person in my life.”
You smile, as you make eye contact with your lover, who wipes a tear away from his eye and gives you a warm smile in return.
The music starts playing and you tap your foot to the beat. Floyd furrowed his eyebrows and nodded his head to the beat, getting a familiar vibe from it. ‘This sounds so familiar, but I can’t put my finger on what it reminds me of’ he thinks to himself.
You then start singing, letting the melody take over and losing yourself in the music. It finally clicked. “Wait! I RECOGNIZE THAT SONG! THEY’RE SINGING MY SONG!” He yells out, “fangirling” by jumping up and down realizing that you covered one of his songs.
When the song ended, the crowd started cheering for more, which you gladly obliged and started singing old brozone songs, to which people were freaking out with excitement. Their favorite artist singing songs from their favorite band? Oh yeah, that’s perfection. You can’t even phantom how much happiness Floyd was filled with.
After the concert, you met up with your boyfriend backstage and he came running to you with his arms wide open, his eyes closed, and with a big smile on his face. “[Y/N]! You did so good out there, my love! I really enjoyed the songs that you chose, it really warmed my heart." He wrapped his arms around you and spun you around. “Thank you, babe! I’m glad you liked it, all I had in my mind during those songs were you.” You say, as you softly put your hands on his face, admiring his features.
He give you a big dorky smile and a big loving kiss on your cheek and then on your lips. “I love you so much, *nickname*”
“And I love you more.”
note: omg guys the floyd brainrot is getting out of control i wanna throw him around like a ping pong ball he’s so cute 😮💨 also hopefully you liked this and enjoyed it !!
@USHYS content - Do Not Copy.
#trolls floyd#floyd brozone#trolls3#trolls band together#i love trolls so much#trolls x reader#floyd x reader#trolls floyd fluff#trolls floyd x reader#trolls#i have a problem#ushys
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im going to put my answers below bc i know some of these vids are likely not returning to dnp and i do agree with that i just wanted to do a fun poll abt if you could have another of these vids then which would you choose. ofc like ive said before we have no control over dnp uploads and i fully know some of these won’t come back lol
ok first of all i don’t think pinof is coming back and i think that’s been clear for ages anyways like ten is a nice number to leave it. HOWEVER i do think an april fools dapc pinof would be hilarious. answering crafties questions and whatever they send to craft universe dnp.
same with amazingdan BUT maybe there’s a slight chance of reacting to amazingdan. maybe not since so much time has already passed since pinof reactions (four months …..) honestly out of the options i’m not that bothered about pinof or amazingdan i feel like they’re classic dnp content that’s fine left as it is
ok for the pizza mukbang thing i don’t care for it to be a mukbang video lol like the actual thing was the nice sit down talk vibes pyjama pizza w friends maybe this is exactly what dan means abt being parasocial 😭 but that video is nice so i don’t think the actual mukbang part of it is that important it’s more the sit down talk style vid
i think i would do anything for another day in the life but i feel like it is prob peak parasocial content. would it count as phouse tour probably. do i think there will be a phouse tour no bc it sounds like it is still having a lot of work done 😭 and i honestly don’t really care abt it… i think the sims renovation was fun and an insight into their interior design opinions lol and that is enough for me
i put it takes two bc a lot of people want to see the next bit i like the game but not rly enough. idk it’s been awhile since that first vid and in terms of other games and things from dnp i don’t rly mind about it takes two being ignored 😭
i know baking is not a discontinued thing anymore bc HALLOWEEN but BUT i really believed easter baking would be a thing 💔 dapc had so much put into it that i kind of forgot about wanting a baking vid but 💔 i can’t lie i think i got set on the expectation for it. like the baking vids have always been absolute classic staple dnp content but definitely the cinnamon roll one was like the baking vids to the extreme… the full potential AND THE BAKE WAS GOOD TOO. the vid was also pretty popular. so my expectations for easter were a bit high. ok so if this poll is like magically summon a dnp vid 🪄 maybe id consider baking because i just love it so much like irl as a hobby but also then dnp doing one of my fav things too and it being so fun idk it’s some of the best dnp content imo. i would love them to try a series of making food from videogames but no offence to them i don’t get the vibe that they cook a lot…… so i think it might not happen. but dil is turning TEN in september so maybe dnp special dil birthday cake baking vid 💔 pleaese pleasemaybe
i think tumblr tag is totally plausible although ik the april fools tumblr tag thing 💔 bc the twitter vid happened i think they’ll do a tumblr one at some point. there’s so much amazing art on here not just fanart but written stuff video and photo edits so i’d want them to see all of that as well as the funny stuff. this isn’t like top of my list of things i’d want to see but it’s definitely one of the more plausible things
dapc behind the scenes content its either happening or it will never be spoken of
honestly idk if they would do reactions to the super amazing project. bc like what vids would they choose. maybe i can see them referencing it or discussing it if someone asked or in a live but idk about reaction vids.
ok draw my life would be fun and i’d watch them. i’d watch an updated dil draw my life too. they put so much effort into that dil draw my life. maybe an updated one for dil’s 10th birthday will happen? that would be pretty fun.
i think if i had to choose it would be a ditl vid. top 3 would be ditl, mukbang or literally just any sit down talk vid, and another baking video. ditl may literally just be bc of nostalgia i don’t really see it happening again but who knows. again just a poll about which vid you’d want to see if you could magic up a dnp vid i definitely know some of these aren’t coming back or very unlikely to
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[ OCTOBER 4TH ] TEMPERATURE PLAY - SHOTO TODOROKI x fem! reader (wizard x student! witch au)
synopsis; shoto is the best wizard in the school. he can make his hands form powers of heat and cool. you are new to the school and have always been a fan of wizard shoto. now’s your chance to learn from him.
wk; 4k
warnings; mdni, smut 18+, heavy smut, everyone is aged up, temperature play, student x teacher (college), fingering, wand fucking, nicknames (professor, student), dirty talk, brat taming, spanking, ass play, ice, candle wax, nipple play, thigh riding, clit play, scissoring, beta read!
note; again w another! i love the vibe of this one, i don't think it's my fav but pls lmk what u think. also if uu have a problem w this type of trope and what not then don't read idgaf, like block me idc. remember to like, reblog and comment.
-nav : kinktober m.list : kinktober taglist
“did ya hear?” your roommate bumped into your shoulder, playfully.
you were in the middle of making your nutritious breakfast that consisted of oats and fruits. you read it helped with the brain and in the school of magic, you definitely needed that.
when you had finished high school you knew you wanted to explore your witchcraft ways and become a witch. the best witch in the land. so now you were in the school of magic and acing every subject. you were at the top of your class. some might even suggest you were the goody two shoes, the know it all, but you didn’t mind. they would scoff and roll their eyes every time you answered in class but all that mattered to you was being the best out of the best.
“what’s up?” you took a big bite of breakfast, sitting at the table.
“have you been living under a rock? we’re getting a new professor this semester. i am so fucking excited!” your friend jumped up and down, dancing.
you tilted your head, “you mean, you don’t like professor williams telling us we suck ass on the daily and we’re never gonna follow our dreams? he’s such a sweetheart, why would you want another teacher?” your words dripped with sarcasm.
your roommate rolled her eyes with a chuckle, “ha ha. but seriously, y/n, the professor i’ve heard is hot.” she wiggled her eyebrows.
“like dilf hot or-”
“like he is only a few years older than us!”
“what?” you choked on your oats. “how in the hell-”
“best in his class. actually he’s one of the best period. i’ve heard that he made up a new magic trick. something to do with ice and flames, at the same time.”
“wait, are you talking about shoto todoroki, the shoto todoroki.”
“yeah, i think that’s the guy.”
you almost screamed, “no way! shoto is like my idol. he has proven that magic airway can travel within itself with different opposite techniques. he’s insanely good and one of the best wizards!”
“so you’re a fan?”
you twirled around in your kitchen, “can you just imagine? we are going to be taught by one of the greatest! we’re gonna get the best education and learn so much! that’s actually why i came to this school. i read about him and he inspired me to be a witch.”
your friend faked a yawn, “well damn don’t get all happy school girl with me. he’s probably like the rest of them.” she shrugged, “either way, we have his class first so you can go and fangirl over him all you want.”
your eyes bugged out, “for real?”
“why?” your friend smirked, “are you excited to see this sexy professor?”
you shook your head, “he probably has a girlfriend or a wife. let’s be respectful and good students.” you collected your spell books, retrieved your witch hat and wrapped your neck with your comfy, soft, orange knitted scarf.
your friend grumbled, “i don’t want to be a goody-goody like you. some don’t really care.”
“we’re gonna be late,c’mon!” you hopped onto your broomstick. putting your earbuds in to listen to “all too well” by taylor swift. your broomstick slowly came out of your apartment to your campus.
it was the start of the day and everyone was bustling to and fro, having places to be, classes to attend.
you read your papers that were sent to you by crow and could make out that professor shoto todoroki’s classroom was in the main building of the classes. it was usually the nicer rooms with more decoration. his class was potions and elements of magic. your wand was tightly placed in your bookbag, safe and secured.
you smiled wide, cheeks getting nipped by the cool autumn air. the smell of pumpkin spice and cinnamon dancing in your nose from the many students getting coffee. and the smell of many apple orchards that littered around the campus made you so happy with your choice in school. you vowed to yourself to be the best witch ever.
but as your broom swayed closer to his classroom your heart pounded as well. every minute the tapping against your rib cage would make you sweat and gulp loudly. what if he hated you? what if he was the worst teacher ever? what if you were to get an f? how were you then to be the greatest?
you sat your broom outside the classroom, leaning it against the wall.
every new semester day made you anxious. it was bound to happen. but why were you also intrigued?
you fixed your mini black skirt with your fishnet stockings on, sticking your head inside the classroom. it was already filled with many students and that was when you saw him!
the greatest wizard to ever live, shoto todoroki. his hair was half white half red. the side with the red hair had a blue eye and the side with white hair had a brown eye. he also had a burn mark on his blue eye. he looked incredible and so handsome.
“told you,” your friend whispered in your ear and slapped your ass playfully.
fuck, she was right. you almost moaned the first time you saw him. you never really looked at him that way when you saw photos of him but now seeing him in real life for the first time, something set off inside of you, making you cross your legs. he had an all black outfit. his coat was black and his suit was black. it fit him nice and tight but made him look like a true wizard. he carried with him a scepter with a crystal ball on the end of it. you already knew by that he was high in rank.
he licked his fingers, turning something in a spell book and looked up. he was about to look back down but you caught his guard.
again, you gulped loudly, biting your lip.
his eyes bore into yours, almost studying you.
“can i help you?” he asked, hands leaning against his belt. his hands looked rough from maybe the constant training and learning. magic was no easy thing.
“oh no. i go to this class.” you lifted up your paper.
“please,” he gave a small smile, disappearing the moment it showed up. you could tell he was more reserved and quiet. “have a seat here.” he pointed to the seat right in front of the class. nobody took it because they were afraid but you always took that seat. you wanted to show teachers you meant business.
as you made your way other students booed and rolled their eyes.
“we have her again?”
“she always tries too hard.”
“that’s why she has no friends.”
you looked down, embarrassed. you took out your books and notebooks as well as your wand. just staring at it so you would try not to cry.
then you heard a snapping noise.
“there is no bullying in my class. if you have a problem with this student then leave because she certainly isn’t leaving. or maybe i should give you all an f? hmm?” professor todoroki snapped, leaning against his desk, eyebrows furrowed.
your heart thumped even harder now. why did he stand up for you? surely it was just because he was a nice teacher and nothing more, right?
“what is your name?”
“y/n l/n. thank you professor-”
he put his hand out, “no need. just do your best.” he said, emotionless but then he winked at you.
you couldn't harp on those feelings longer because after that he announced the start of your class. you were bashful and grinning like an idiot. maybe this semester wouldn’t be so bad after all.
the classroom was medium sized. dark and a bit cold. it had big windows that showcased the whole campus. behind the students were gigantic light wooden shelves, with books stacked inside them. it looked glorious with emerald green and navy blue inside. candles were lit everywhere and inside smelled of autumn leaves. the perfect setting to learn.
“so today i will introduce myself and get you to know a little bit about me,” shoto announced as he crossed between the students desks. “i am shoto todoroki and i am known as the best wizard. the reason is-”
“it’s because you can create flames of heat and ice at the tip of your fingertips. nobody else in the magic world can! that’s actually impossible.”
shoto tsked as he looked back at you. now he kind of understood the kids, you were a know it all.
you smirked. for sure this would make you the class pet.
“thank you y/n but i can speak for myself. anyways yes, but in this class i will teach you my tricks. this is my first ever class and i expect dedication, hard work, and respect. respect for magic,” shoto turned around and stared directly at you with dark eyes, “and especially respect for me.”
you played with your fingers as you tried to look anywhere else but him.
“i will as well teach you some potions and spells to help with certain magic, alright?”
everyone was writing down their notes. it was almost done with the class.
“everyone i want you to write this important term down. mesthuleniza, it is a spell to stun your opponent. now repeat after me-”
you raised your hand.
shoto sighed, massaged his temple and bit his lip, “yes y/n.”
“it is said mes-thoo-le-ny-za not mes-thoo-le-ni-za. most students are saying it wrong. i just wanted to clarify.” you put your hand back down and grinned big. your legs were swinging back and forth all innocent.
students groaned in annoyance and shoto put his hand on his mouth to try to calm himself down. “yes y/n, again, thank you. now the history of the spell is-”
“soldiers would use it on their enemies to stun them for goods. it was used all the way back in ancient egypt times. some theorize it was made by the gods but all we know is it has worked for many decades for special purposes.”
just then the bell rang.
“alright class dismissed! i want the papers on my desk by lunchtime tomorrow. and practice on animals with your spell. have a good day, students.”
you felt good. you made the best impression you felt. as you were packing up all your items you noticed you were the last student, the only student left behind.
“y/n?”
you turned around to see shoto writing on some papers at his desk.
“yes, professor?”
“you are going to stay here for lunch.”
“but sir! they are putting pizza tonight! i love pizza,” you pouted.
he looked up, unimpressed by your childish act. he crossed his leg as he sat back, hands behind his head. “i don’t care what you want y/n. what did i say to do in my class?”
you kicked around sheepishly, “to respect you.”
“exactly! did you do that? did you do that for your fellow classmates?”
you shook your head, “no. but sir-”
“no buts. for the way you behaved, i should have you punished.” his voice dropped low and his mouth twisted into a scowl. “so you’re staying here and helping me clean.”
you stomped your foot like a brat, “this isn’t fair! i’m the best student in this whole damn school. i am supposed to-”
shoto stormed up and with a finger in your face he growled, “watch it.”
you gulped and went silent.
“now, you are going to do as i say and wipe the board and put the books away. understand?”
you exhaled, rolling your eyes, “whatever.”
professor shoto sat back down and read over some paperwork.
you grumbled the whole time as you picked up the eraser and got to work, swishing your arm back and forth to clean the school work residue. you didn’t want to admit but he taught a well class. he was very informative and explained things clearly. you loved every second of it.
“i enjoyed your class, professor,” you said quietly, almost under your breath. you heard shoto turn around in his chair and utter a mellow, “thank you.” but you didn’t hear him turn back. you felt his gaze on you.
you looked up to see high above the chalkboard was more wording that needed to be erased. professor todoroki was taller than you so you stood on your tiptoes to reach the leftovers.
if you knew you were going to clean the board today you would have worn a longer skirt but as you stood on your toes your tight black skirt rose, showing the underside of your ass. you were wearing a black thong with a spider bedazzled on the front of it, and over the thong was your fishnet stockings. you could feel the cool air go under and tickle your ass and pussy. with each swipe on the board it made your ass jiggle, almost making it clap.
you still felt his gaze on you and could see him in your peripheral vision.
was he?
your eyes went quick to him and you noticed him staring at your ass. he looked thirsty. as if you were the key to unquench his thirst. he looked at you as if you were the last sip of water on this earth. his eyes were wide but his gaze was dark as if malicious or lustful. he kept his hand on his mouth as if to stop him from having a taste, his adam's apple moving up and down slowly. shoto moved his head closer and lower, tilted at an angle to get a better view of your full ass.
you looked down on him and noticed his full on boner.
you were shocked? not your professor?
you weren’t an idiot. your professor was hot and honestly you felt something burst within you with him looking at you that way. you felt hot, and bad. you wanted him to punish you. you felt cherished in a way. something changed within you.
but what would people say? what would happen, the chemistry from here on out if you acted upon it? would people notice and then they would really think that you are the class pet?
all of it was too much.
you got back on the soles of your feet and planted them on the ground. you fixed your skirt and looked directly at shoto with a smile. “i’m done here, need any more help.”
shoto looked away, embarrassed with a cough, “yes, um, i have some books that you can put away in the bookshelf. right over there.”
you nodded and picked the books up to put them away.
as you put the books away you noticed a book written by him. it was about his technique of fire and ice. you were astounded by his words. he was incredible.
“and without a wand,” you uttered to yourself.
you sat the book against the shelf and took your wand out. the end of the wand was thick and had ridges on it. it was unique and decorated by you. you studied the passage of the book and tried to do the spell. you tried to get fire to come out but it was no use, it didn’t work.
“that’s not gonna work,” todoroki walked in on you. hands in his pockets as he gave a small grin seeing you try.
“yeah, sorry, i’m not that good,” you chuckled sheepishly.
“you know you don’t believe that,” shoto picked up the book to inspect it. “you just told me, you think you’re the best.”
“i just, i wish i was as good as you.”
shoto thought about that moment and walked back. he peered around the room then lifted his sleeves up. “here let me help you. i can teach you.” as he lifted both hands to you, you saw the veins on them. they were the most attractive hands ever. “now this is kinda dangerous so please be careful.” in that moment he produced ice on his right side and flames on his left.
“woah,” you looked with eyes big of wonder. “this is amazing!” your hands went over the ice and it felt so cool and over the fire. “ouch.” you flicked your finger back, sucking the burn.
“allow me,” todoroki picked up your finger and kissed it. then he poked his tongue out a bit and licked the tip of it. it was warm at first then cool his saliva. all the while his eyes never left yours.
“better?”
“b-better,” you nodded, bashful. your head was spinning. you felt you were in another world.
“look, stand like this.” shoto went behind you, spread your legs apart and placed both his hands on yours. “don’t think about anything else. forget what other professors have told you. feel the cool and the heat. think about them being friends, lovers rather than enemies.”
you closed your eyes to concentrate and that's when you felt warmth and cool on your hips then your arms. it shot a spark up your spine.
“try it y/n, i know you can do it.” shoto whispered in your ear.
feeling inspired a little flame and ice shard were produced in your hand. “oh my god!” you jumped up and down. it was gone the minute it showed up but it meant everything to you. “i did it! oh my god!”
shoto crossed his arms with a love grin on his face, “i’m proud of you, student. good job.”
you couldn’t take the tension anymore and backed shoto against the bookshelf, planting your lips on his.
at first it was hot and warm, you ran your fingers through his hair messily. he had his hands squished against your face. mouth fighting for dominance.
he parted with heaving breaths, “no y/n, no, we shouldn’t do this. i’m your teacher. we could get in trouble. i shouldn’t be having this with my student.”
“please, professor,” you pouted. you brought his hand to your vagina. wanting him to feel you. “you see how wet you already made me.” you grinding on his hand, and went to his ear, moaning, “and i saw the way you stared at my ass. like you wanted to eat it, professor.”
todoroki scowled. his eyes turned dark and his mouth twisted into a frown. “there you go again. acting like a little brat. i knew you were trouble when i first saw you. acting like a good girl when you know you are the baddest one here. look at you, begging me to fuck you, wanting me to touch your wet pussy.” shoto pushed you against the bookshelf. lifting your mini skirt up high so it rested on your stomach. you showed him your bare ass, with your cute thong nestled in the middle of it.
“oh professor!” you cried as he turned you around, inspecting your clothed pussy.
“i love these,” he chuckled, delicately touching your fishnets. he then ripped them along with your panties.
“professor i loved those,” you pounted again.
“look at you, always pouting like a spoiled brat.” shoto’s hand became red with flame power and that's when he smacked your ass. you jumped up and moaned, shaking it for him. god he turned you on so much. again he smacked, harder this time. you whined, “i’m sorry professor shoto, i’ve been a bad girl.”
“yes you have been, you've been a bad witch. witches are supposed to help people but all you wanna do is fuck them.” todoroki put your wand in your mouth to stifle your moans and cries from his slaps. “you like that, my bad student?”
you nodded, grinding your bare ass on his clothed dick. he earlier ripped your pussy and ass area of your stockings. so he turned his hand ice cold and wiped his hands from your cunt to your ass hole, smearing your juiced back and forth. “i can smell you from here, you dirty girl. all wet from your professor.”
“mmmm, yes! that’s feels so good.”
“let me ask you,” shoto massaged in circles your tight asshole, “have you ever been fucked by a wizard?”
before you could answer, shoto gently laid you down on the floor and ripped your shirt, spilling your boobs out.
you grunted loudly, still having your wand in your mouth.
“fuck,” he whispered, fingers turning red for heat and circling your bud. it felt soothing, a warm feeling. then his hands turned ice cold in a split second.
that’s what got you super wet. you were humping his leg that was placed in the middle of you. moving back and forth as his coat that covered his leg was now being covered by your cream. the friction of your pussy folds coating each button and fabric made you see stars.
todoroki’s intense eyes looked into yours and his brows knitted together, “aww look at my little brat. is she now being a good girl?”
his fingers delicately came down your collar bone to your nipples, gently tickling them with his nails. his hands were cold as ice. he rolled the bud back and forth in between his fingers. then, as if they weren’t sensitive enough, he produced from his magic a piece of ice. he hovered it over your mouth and it dripped down your neck to your nipples. making them poke out even more and become swollen. it made you more wet and almost find that special feeling.
“oh my god,” you moaned.
“wow, look how sensitive. they respond so well to my magic.” he smirked, rubbing the piece of ice all over your tits.
you started grinding faster as then finally todoroki put the ice cube in his mouth and dipped his head to take a nipple in. he twirled the nipple with his tongue while the ice tapped on it as well.
the feeling was like something you have never experienced before. it was incredible.
“oh professor!” you cried, your stain on his legs and coat were becoming bigger and wetter.
todorki hummed as he feasted on your nipples. the feeling of ice cold making your pussy pulse.
shoto retrieved a candle from the side of the book shelf and heated the tip of the candle with his powers. the hot wax dripped down your belly almost making its way to your cunt but dried up before it could reach it.
you hollered in excitment and sexual tension you almost orgasmed right there.
“i don’t know how much more i can do this, professor.” you were humping his leg now like a dog in heat.
“listen to me brat. i said you respect me in my classroom. don’t make me have to punish you again, you bad girl.”
shoto went lower and opened your legs, with his face near your soaking wet cunt.
“wow, look how wet you are. you are so dirty.” he was only inches from it.
you wiggled your hips, “please, help me,” you cried.
shoto kissed the inside of your thighs. “my little witch, such a spoiled girl.” he produced another piece of ice and it dripped over your sensitive clit. you couldn’t help but almost orgasm there, the feeling was incredible. the ice droplets dripped on your swollen clit and down your hole, mixing with your cream.
“all wet for me,” he whispered as he put two fingers to dive in your soaked pussy. you gladly sucked his fingers inside, eyes crossed with how good you felt.
“ohhhh, right there, right there.” you started moving on his fingers.
shoto licked his lips as his fingers turned really warm. he started moving his fingers in and out, then scissoring inside you. the squelching and wetness of it was all that was heard.
“fuck i’m gonna cum, professor.”
“no listen brat, i say when you cum.” he put his hand on your lower belly. he looked directly into your eyes. “try to keep your eyes open. i want to see my student’s eyes when she cums.”
you tried to listen. your body moving up and down with how shoto escalated his fingering. he went faster and faster. your pussy gushing with moisture.
“look at how filthy you are. you are a naughty girl.” his temperature then changed to ice cold. his fingers were like ice as he fingered faster. he started curling his fingers inside you, hitting the g-spot perfectly. his arm was pistoning in and out of you.
you were finally screaming with pure ecstasy. this was the best feeling you ever felt.
“i’m almost there-”
“not quite yet,” shoto chuckled. he grabbed the wand from your mouth. it was dripping with your spit. “open wider for me.”
you did as you were told.
“good girl,” he winked as he turned the wand over and entered the thick side first, inside your already sensitive cunt. your pussy took it in and your cream leaked down to the tip of it.
“fuck! oh shit, fuck!” you were crying. it felt so good. “yes, right there. fuck yes. fuck me with my wand!”
shoto got his right hand cold and played with your nipples while the other hand moved the wand in and out like a sex toy. entering inside of you then out.
“you are taking this so well. i am going to have to put my wand inside you.”
“professor! i can’t! i’m gonna cum!” you screamed, not caring if other students heard you. you opened your legs wider by spreading them with your hands. you looked down to see how fast and slick you took the wand.
“that’s it, witch! cum for me!” he announced as if he put a spell on you.
your legs were shaking and he kept repeatedly hitting your g-spot with the wand. “fuckkkkkk!” you croaked. your strength and energy gone with how deep the wand kept going.
you lifted your legs high in the air and stood there for a minute while he orgasmed. shoto slowly dipped the wand in and out, loving the way your fold suction aed around each groove.
your juices dripped onto the carpet and all over shoto’s hands.
you looked down to see shoto’s trousers having a wet stain from his precum. you felt kinda bad not giving him the same attention.
“professor i-”
he pulled the wand away and wrapped his lips around it, tasting each part of you and licking every last drop. “i expect you at my class everyday. i expect great grades from the greatest witch ever.” he stood up, wiped his hands on his soaked trousers. he took his coat off and wrapped it around you. “you can give this to me tomorrow.”
“professor, when-are we ever gonna do this again?” you bit your lip.
shoto gave a cute smile, “as my best student that gets perks, you will stay after class to help me. better get that delicious pussy ready tomorrow and meet me back here again, like a good girl, right?”
it was crazy but you got wet all over again. “yes, professor.”
taglist: @sailewhoremoon, @tonaken, @shoutocakie, @xinii, @neonlavander, @moonbabysstuff, @smellsliketequila, @auds-dal19, @khione-silver
#cry baby *🧸*#shoto smut#mha smut#bnha smut#shoto todoroki smut#todoroki shoto smut#shotou todoroki#shoto x reader#shoto todoroki x reader#todoroki x reader#bnha x reader#boku no academia#bnha x you#shoto x you#todoroki x you#shoto todoroki x youu#todoroki shoto x reader#shoto torodoki#todoroki shouto#bnha#todoroki#shouto#mha#bnha x fem! reader#boku no hero smut#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#shouto x you#mha shouto
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Idk if my addition will matter.
I've been following Hanza since back when they were making my deepest secret, so I've seen the development of the guy upstairs first hand and how hanza writes it. Even back in the concept stages, it was so blatantly clear that it was supposed to be a thriller/cat mouse vibe where Adam (killer) was horrible and not to be rooted for. They've compared him to irl serial killers and how those guys will often use women as shields to hide their true selves from the public and how that's messed up and bad to do.
They've shown Adam as a horrible irredeemable person and honestly there's little to no nuance with how they handle it, but that makes sense because how else can you handle an audience like what they've gotten without beating them over the head with the facts. How many ways can you outright show your main character despising and wanting to yank their best friend out of the jaws of a murderer before the audience realizes its not foreplay.
I think them going from an actual romance to a fully thriller non romantic story meant that the residual audience expected some kind of messy toxic romance, but Rozy to me has always explicitly read as Queer so idk why people aren't getting the hint.
I get their frustration and it seems like they might be shifting into a potiential issekai romance about a grandad and a middle aged woman who got reincarnated as his grandson's fiance (hard to explain but its hilarious if you want to check it out) without any thriller elements from their recent non comic posts. Whatever they do I hope they can find something to be passionate about again.
your addition VERY MUCH MATTERS actually because I don't read TGU and have very little context to the situation as a whole aside from what I've seen people talking about, which makes me reluctant to speak on it because I don't wanna go spreading misinformation in any regard. So I appreciate you taking the time to lay it all out for me, thank you!!! <3
And yeah, I've seen posts shared in the /r/webtoons sub from other blogs claiming that Hanza was being an awful person for "taking people's money" and "baiting them" into reading a dark romance story when that's very obviously not what it is? Even one excerpt that was literally like-
And I just... since when is any romance plotline that ISN'T abusive and problematic at its core (such as between a serial killer and a victim) considered "super conservative" and "pure"? It's really baffling to me how people have gone so far in the opposite direction of "purity culture" that they've started arguing on behalf of legitimately harmful and toxic relationships. It's extremely concerning especially when you know the majority of people saying this shit are between the ages of 16-21. IDK what the fuck we're doing anymore when it comes to the romance genre (and TGU isn't even a romance ffs).
Aaaand yeah in relation to where the Hanza topic came up, that's really why I'm moving away from WT as an audience and why I don't consider it a "loss" to not use WT anymore. Once upon a time I wished for Time Gate to be a contracted series, for it to have thousands of readers and be my job. But seeing what's going on with Hanza's work just informs me that I'd be dealing with a lot of the same shit - people expecting Uzuki and Mitsuhiro to be the endgame of the romance when they're literally NOT good for each other, which is the POINT. Like sure, unlike the main duo in TGU, they actually are a couple with a 'relationship' but it's not meant to be healthy and the last thing I need are 15 year olds thinking they're "couple goals". If you ship them in fanfic or w/e the fuck that's fine but please don't get mad at me when they don't wind up being the endgame couple, they're both terrible people and make each other worse when they're around each other (・_・;)
Either way yeah, I don't blame Hanza in the slightest for getting so frustrated with it all that they'd rather just be done with it. It sucks for the more loyal and sane part of their audience that the series is gonna be ripped out from under them like that, but at the end of the day if the creator is being harassed and decide they're done as a result of it... why should they have to keep putting up with bullshit just for a comic? I don't even blame Rachel if she was ending LO by choice due to the noise of the fandom, and unlike Rachel, I don't have anything in the slightest against Hanza or their work LOL But I also don't have the full picture on it all so maybe my opinion will change if I find out more about it. I just don't think any of this shit is worth directly harassing a human being over.
That said, can't get any better than someone who's read their work since before TGU, so again, thank you !
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ALSO SPEAKING AS SOMEBODY WHO ONLY KNOWS THE BARE MINIMUM OF GOOD OMENS AND THE INEFFABLE HUSBANDS i just wanna say im pretty sure bg3 has their equivalent in bloodweave (gale [the one played by tim downie] + astarion)
my defense:
autistic book nerd and king who has the Audacity to fight God + chaotic theater gay that gives cat vibes and may need Therapy
aziraphale and gale sound like the type that would have solidarity in old man knees . idek if thats canon for aziraphale but it sure as hell is for gale
aziraphale and gale rhyme holy shit thats becoming a legitimate bullet point AJSJSJSJA
the book nerds live in their own private library . gale has a whole ass wizards tower while aziraphale has his book shop (that iirc he doesnt even sell the books in it ???)
crowley and astarion are the same fruit men . i also dont know how to explain that crowley just gives me 8 strength vibes as well . even if he was an angel you cant tell me this man can lift more than three books at once
"fuck the gods that did nothing for us. what if we chose each other" vibes from the both of them (idc what the other endings for gale are hes denouncing mystra in my canon bc i say so <33)
is aziraphale the type to have a cat . he seems so . how about a cat w wings (<-a tressym) . theyd absolutely bond over that
if you replaced the cutscenes of astarions little hissy fits w crowley i think itd honestly still be pretty in character
if i manage to pirate good omens one of these days i will be confirming if my hypothesis is correct <33
Ooooh now we're talking :)))))) I'll try to be brief (< lying)
yup that's them.
'may need therapy' we all know they do, the 'may' is only there bc they either won't admit it (Aziraphale & Gale) or would have to get dragged kicking & screaming before ultimately weaseling their way out of it looney tunes style (Crowley & Astarion)
Aziraphale is an old man in all aspects except one (biologically), however Crowley is the same age and he would definitely have old man knees. he doesn't know what to do with his joints half of the time due to being snek
yeah there are no books being sold in that bookshop fgfjkfggnv. like, it's all first editions and what-not so i totally get not wanting to give any away but then why open a shop??? instead of a collection???
yk what, fair enough. Crowley is a noodle, those arms aren't doing much more opening doors for his angel. tbf he can lift multiple potted plants at once but that's more spite than anything
i could also totally see Astarion doing the Crowley Walk(TM)
"fuck the gods that did nothing for us. what if we chose each other vibes" so true, no notes.
aziraphale doesn't have a pet (yet) but I think he would love a cat (I mean, he's got Crowley hanging around, basically the same). A tressym is just a very peculiar step up from that (consider: it has it's own wings to match him and Crowley, which is really adorable!!)
crowley's hissy fits are great and can likewise be replaced with Astarion's.
similiar additions which would probably still be in character:
C slammed Aziraphale into a wall for calling him nice
C went out into the middle of the street when he got really frustrated/anxious and exploded lightning from his body
C agreed to take care of the bookshop, not selling any books etc. but tossed any books he was holding into some corner whenever
both of them evaded the immediate ire of their higher ups by pointing out a technicality that amounted to 'this word is explained to be different from the one you're using, but through a miniscule footnote on the last page of this giagantic book'
Aziraphale has an incredible hard time overcoming the trauma and toxic mindset upheld by his superiors, including how he views himself and his partner (that one's just sad, sry)
Solid ground for a hypothesis I'd say :))
#being so normal rn#i need to work on uni stuff i cannot start another drawing-- *hand's already twitching towards my pen*#good omens#aziraphale#crowley#anthony j crowley#ineffable husbands#baldur's gate 3#bg3 astarion#astarion ancunin#bg3 gale#gale of waterdeep#bloodweave
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Hi! 👋🏼
First off, I just wanted to thank you for all that you do on your blog, not only has it been helpful to keep things in mind when writing, but I also genuinely enjoy learning more about sign language; I’m trying to self-learn it because it’s just that interesting to me hehe. (Also my church has a Deaf Service and I’d really like to be able to talk to the people there.)
I do have a question, but feel free not to answer; I’m currently working on a story where a very young child has acquired deafness after a severe illness (vaguely Hellen Keller vibes), and I was wondering if you know of any things I should specifically keep in mind when writing about the aftermath (immediate and long-term) of it? The setting is mildly fantasy where sign language exists, but hearing aids and cochlear implants have yet to be invented.
Thank you again for your blog, and the care you put into all your posts!
You're very welcome, and thank you! ☺️ It's always lovely to hear that people are helped by this whole... [insert vague hand-wave at my blog] thing I'm doing
Things to consider with a young character who loses hearing after illness
I don't know anything firsthand about what it's like to go deaf, so the first thing I'll recommend is to find stuff written by people who do. A search on r/deaf for "lost hearing" brings up a lot of different threads; for example, this post where people discuss things they wished they'd done/known when they first lost their hearing might provide some good insight.
As another starting point, Jessica Kellgren-Fozard has a fair few videos on her channel about her experiences as a deaf person, and specifically as someone who lost her hearing in her late teens. These two in particular might be helpful to you:
So You're Losing Your Hearing...
youtube
This is a video for people who think they're losing their hearing, but while it's not strictly about lived experience, it could certainly be helpful to note both the issues Jessica discusses and the solutions to them.
For example, she mentions isolation is a big problem, and talks about the importance of using the tools provided by the internet to find communities of people in the same boat. Even without the internet (or some fantasy equivalent), people are very community driven and prone to bonding over shared experiences, even if those experiences aren't wholly analogous. Are there other disabled characters in your story that your recently deaf character could speak to? Other d/Deaf characters? Who does she have by way of support and community? – these are all good things to think about.
Why I Don't Sound Deaf
youtube
In this one, Jessica talks about her experiences and her relationship with speech and sign languages as someone who lost her hearing. With applying this to your character, her age is important – the "golden period" for acquisition of a new language is typically thought to be before ten years old. Theoretically, the younger someone is when they lose hearing, the easier it will be for them to learn sign language. As Jessica points out in the video, sign language has a different grammatical structure, and because of this she finds it easier to use Sign Supported English instead of BSL. A much younger child, if given immediate or near-immediate access to sign language, is likely to take to it far more easily.
More on speech and language acquisition (or: the evils of consonants)
The impact of hearing loss on speech isn't something I can speak to (pun unintended) with great knowledge or certainty, but I can sort of extrapolate based on personal experience with learning to speak while not being able to hear well. (I had speech therapy, but that was as much to do with my narrow jaw + teeth overcrowding as with language difficulties caused by deafness). I misheard a lot of words and phrases – I spent years thinking that the "big girl swings" were "barbecue swings" 😅
It's worth looking into what level of speech your character would have based on her age, and using that to work out how much verbal proficiency she could retain (if any). Muscle memory accounts for a lot, so if your character already knows how to say certain words or phrases ""properly"", she could retain that ability. It's not an automatic or effort-free process, though: I'm in my twenties and I still have to consciously think about how my mouth is shaping sounds every time I speak. I don't think that will ever change.
If your character is young enough that she's still learning to speak, there will likely be a more marked impact on how her voice sounds. Different phonemes – units or "parts" of sound in speech – are uttered at different frequencies, which affects how easy/difficult they are to hear and therefore learn. This is, AFAIK, one of the biggest causes of the slurred/indistinct speech that people tend to expect d/Deaf people to have. Consonants are evil little fuckers, by which I mean they're spoken at higher pitches so anyone with loss in the high frequency range (hi!) is more likely to miss them. There are different types of consonants, too! And yes, each type presents its own challenges, because consonants exist purely to vex and frustrate everyone with high-frequency hearing loss and/or speech difficulties. For example, labiodental fricatives (e.g., the 'f' in fan and the 'v' in van) are particularly tricky, because they sound virtually indistinguishable.
StudySmarter has an easy-to-understand comprehensive breakdown of phonetics. You don't need to become an expert in phonetics, but reading through this will help you understand how sounds are formed in speech, which is helpful to keep in mind when thinking about your own character's speech. Pay particular attention to the phonemes that sound similar (like the aforementioned fan/van) or are soft/breathy (like the 's' in 'sound' or 'h' in 'half') – these are the most common problem areas, as are distinctions between 'sh' and 's'. If they feel soft or breathy in your mouth, they're probably going to be harder to hear.
Deafness and illness as trauma, and adjusting to change
Last thing I'd suggest thinking about is the experience your character has with the illness itself, and how she feels and copes with the changes to her life caused by acquired deafness. Illness can be a traumatic experience, especially when it has long-term after effects. If you've ever lost the ability to do something you can usually do, even temporarily, you'll probably be familiar with the frustration, and sometimes humiliation. It's also hard to overstate just how much auditory information there is in the world, and how much hearing people rely on that information without knowing it. Suddenly losing that ability isn't going to be easy, even if your character is young enough that they won't be able to remember anything different once they're grown up. Add to that the realisation that your body isn't as reliable as you thought it would be, that you suddenly can't trust your own health, and possibly not being able to understand why that's the case. That's a lot to deal with! And you shouldn't be afraid to show your character going through it!
Thinking back to my own childhood experiences, the strongest emotions connected to my deafness are confusion, embarrassment and alienation. Confusion because the world can be confusing when you're constantly missing auditory cues; embarrassment because unfortunately not everyone is kind and accommodating when you make mistakes due to missing aforementioned auditory cues/information (and sometimes even if people are lovely about a mistake, you can feel stupid for making it anyway); and alienation because of a sense that I was somehow "different". Thing is though, this was normal for me. I have never known anything different. But my relationship to and understanding of deafness as an identity has evolved hugely throughout my life. So, once again, age is going to be a deciding factor in how your character adjusts.
From some rudimentary googling and fuzzy memories of my brief stint as a Psychology student, children develop social awareness (awareness of how others think and feel) and self-awareness (awareness of own existence and how others perceive you) fairly early on, but these awarenesses take time to develop fully. Basically, this means that your character’s age will influence the scope of their reaction to acquired deafness. Some examples as a frame of reference:
A two-year-old is going to be primarily focused on their immediate emotional experience – they can’t hear things they could hear before, it’s confusing. They will also likely be aware if people treat them differently, but unlikely to have a socially-installed idea that they are now different.
A four- or five-year-old, on the other hand, has probably developed enough social and self-awareness to understand that certain people in society get treated differently. They might already have a sense that this is unfair, or they might still be trying to understand why this is the case – it depends on what they’ve learned about disability from adults around them.
(I mentioned above that you can feel stupid/embarrassed for making a mistake even if people are genuinely supportive regardless. The first time I vividly remember someone making me feel stupid and embarrassed for not hearing something, I would have been 4 or 5. The first time I can recall feeling stupid because I was aware that other people didn’t have that problem and that I’d made a social faux pas, I would have been about 7 or 8)
By early adolescence (ages 10–13), children are more aware of, and possibly more susceptible to, peer pressure and social norms [1]. Any understanding of and biases/prejudices concerning disability will be more deeply ingrained, as will concerns about the social impact of going deaf.
The support network that your character has access to is going to be crucial to how they manage this change at any age, so think about the characters in their immediate family/community and how they’ve acted towards disability and social difference.
[1] In a fantasy setting, you as the author are in charge of what those social norms and attitudes are, and I always encourage authors to examine their own biases when worldbuilding them. How are disabled people viewed and treated in your world? Have you made it similar to your own social and cultural experience? If yes, is that because you see that as the norm, or is there a narrative or worldbuilding reason for that? Are there any assumptions about the current or historical treatment/existence of disabled people that have influenced your worldbuilding?
Tropes to watch out for
There are three main tropes to be wary of when a character acquires a disability of any kind:
The acquired disability as an inherent tragedy akin to a death sentence and nothing else. As I’ve already said, an acquired disability can be significantly emotionally difficult, especially if the circumstances around acquisition were traumatic. Acknowledging and exploring this is important. The problem is when writers leave it there – the character is disabled, their previous way of life is lost to them, and therefore the character no longer has any worth to the story (and, by implication, to society). Think of the trope of the ex-athlete (or any other hobby/profession, although fighters and athletes are the most common components off this trope) who acquires a disability and then becomes a bitter, depressed hermit who lives in a state of misanthropy and misery because their life is effectively over. (This happens to Will in Me Before You by Jojo Moyes. Content warning for assisted suicide there). The main issue with this trope isn’t its content, per se, but its execution: Writers rarely examine why someone might end up like this (hint: institutional and internalised ableism, and lack of structural support for disabled people), and instead treat it as an inevitability because they cannot conceive of disabled existence as anything but inherently miserable.
The second trope is when a character manages to “throw off” the disability. These characters either only remain disabled as long as the disability is narratively useful, are magically cured, or overcome the disability by an act of willpower (sometimes only for narrative effect). The issue here is the content: the idea that disability can be overcome or cured by sheer willpower (or yoga, or the right diet, or religion) is pervasive and actively harmful to real-life disabled people, because it implies that disability is somehow our fault. Closely related to this trope is the one where an acquired disability never tangibly impacts a character (or only does so when it would be dramatic); you see this primarily with characters who use prosthetics effortlessly or, in the case of the latter, characters who appear abled until their disability can cause tension or drama in the plot. Again, the content is the issue: disability is flattened to nothing but a plot device, with no thought given to how it affects characters (and therefore real disabled people).
Finally, there’s the idea that an acquired disability is actually a “blessing in disguise” as a type of inspiration porn. That’s an icky trope, but I think it has some itty bitty grains of potential – crucially, the fact that there can be joy in disabled existence. Someone who acquires deafness might not see it as a blessing in the same way as some congenitally deaf people do, but they may still come to appreciate and embrace (aspects of) Deaf culture. Or perhaps they just manage to develop a neutral relationship with their acquired deafness. That’s fine, too!
A solution is to all of these is to consider the practical and proactive aspects of recovery, as well as the emotional fallout. Consider:
How does your character adjust?
How do the people around her adjust?
What support does she have? / What support systems are available?
How does she make sense of her new reality?
What accessibility aids does she have access to, and what are they like to use?
Long story short, nuance and consideration of different aspects of the disabled experience are key.
Hopefully this’ll help! (I’ve also wanted to talk about acquired disability in fiction for a while, hence the wall of text lol). Best wishes for your writing, anon ☺️
#writing deaf characters#disabilities in sff#acquired hearing loss#worldbuilding for deaf culture#acquired disability
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Crayons and Cassettes
Chapter 12: Girls Day
You are a kindergarten teacher. Eddie’s daughter, Sage, is in your class. The rumor mill around Hawkins begins to spiral. Sage goes to the movies.
warnings: this fic is 18+ in previous and future chapters- minors DNI!! no use of y/n. (please let me know if I missed anything)
a/n: sorry for not updating yesterday- I wanted to take a little break. I hope this longer fluffy chapter makes up for it. let me know in the comments or my asks if you want to be added to the tag list! requests are open!
word count: 5.2k
Chapter 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 8 || 9 || 10 || 11 || 12 || 13 || 14 (coming soon!)
When you got a phone call from Robin asking if you wanted to hang out with her, you immediately took her up on her offer.
You were really looking forward to just having some one on time time with a friend. Although you’d definitely been welcomed into the little group, having an invitation to just hang out one on one made you feel like you really belonged.
Robin came over and watched you do your makeup, watching carefully so she could try to replicate parts of it. You taught her how to do the eyeliner look she liked too; there was a small mishap, however, it was nothing a makeup wipe and a little concealer couldn’t fix.
Once you were ready, the two of you piled into her car and she drove you into town. You stopped at some diner, a place called Benny’s, and the two of you squeezed into a booth that had probably seen better days.
“What have you been up to since I saw you at Steve’s?” You asked her, curious to know if anything exciting happened.
She shrugged, “Well, not much. I mainly did laundry and worked. But,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper after scanning the restaurant to see if anyone was listening, “a new girl started at work, and oh my god, she is so pretty.” She smiled.
You raised an eyebrow, “Ooh.. do you think she’s…?” You asked.
“I don’t know- that’s the problem. She just moved here from Chicago. Said she and her” she added air quotes, “‘partner’ broke up and she needed a change of scenery. Why she moved here I literally cannot fathom, but I don’t know.”
“Hey, I moved here for the exact same reason. It’s a good place- not expensive, plenty of jobs.. but that’s beside the point.” You rambled, “Did she like, say partner in a casual way, or like she was trying to not say another word?” You asked, leaning in and keeping your voices quiet.
“I-“ Robin was quickly interrupted by a scrawny high school age kid who wore the Benny’s uniform, asking what you guys wanted to order.
Once he was out of earshot, Robin leaned back in and whispered, “Like I said, I really don’t know. But she totally has a vibe about her.”
“A vibe?” You asked, a little confused.
“Yeah, dude.” She chuckled, “Like, she has a septum piercing and streaks of pink in her hair. I mean, you’ve at least got to break a few social norms to do that.”
You considered it for a moment, “Yeah, I guess so. But listen, I don’t want you to get your hopes up too much.” You said quietly. “I don’t want you to get hurt- emotionally or physically.”
She nodded, “Yeah, I’ll be careful. You forget I’ve been doing this for a while.” She chuckled. Robin had grown out of her awkwardness a bit as she’d aged, though there were definitely still traces of it in the way she would talk to loud when she was excited or would say something a little off topic because her mind ran faster than her mouth. It was endearing, though.
The teenager came back with your drinks; you’d ordered both ordered waters as well as milkshakes. You played it safe and got cookies and cream, while Robin ordered some strawberry-blueberry-chocolate-banana-peanut butter monstrosity. She smiled, “I’ve been coming here since high school, and I have perfected my milkshake order. You’ve got to try it.”
You wrinkled your nose at the thought, “Sorry, Robin, but I would probably die from all the sugar in that thing.” You laughed.
She shrugged and took a sip, smiling at the taste of the weirdly dark green liquid. You had no idea how it ended up that color, but you really didn’t want to know.
“How’s Eddie?” She asked, changing the subject from her love life to yours.
“He’s good. I haven’t been able to see him since you have, which kinda stinks. He’s been working a lot. I was thinking about stopping by the record store tomorrow just to drop in and say hi, but Sage goes there and hangs out while he works, so I don’t know if he’d be okay with it.” You sighed. You missed him.
“Does he not want you around her?” She inquired.
“Well, I wouldn’t say that. But we just kinda want to know where we’re at before bringing her into it. It’s not easy on a little kid to see their parent with someone new, you know?” You informed her, sympathetic to Sage’s feelings.
“Well, how do you feel about it all?” She asked.
You furrowed your brows, a little confused, “What do you mean?”
“Like, you know… how do you feel about keeping the two of you apart from the two of them? If you and Eddie do end up working out… have you thought about what you would be to Sage?” She asked.
You’d been so caught up in being worried about Sage’s feelings that you really hadn’t considered your own at that point. You pondered the possibilities for a moment, sipping on your milkshake. “Well… I mean, I’m okay with keeping it from Sage for a while. I think that’s normal for anyone who has kids, you know? Making sure your relationship is sound before introducing the concept to a child… and I really haven’t thought about what I would be to Sage..”
“Would you ever want to be her step-mom?” She asked, “That’s kind of the end goal there.”
You hummed and focused on the black and white liquid in your glass, “I-I don’t know. I don’t think I’m against it at all, but I don’t know if I’d be a good mom. Like, yeah, I know I’m good with kids, but I’ve always kind of approached them in almost a scientific way, if that makes sense? I know there’s a method to how you should talk and interact with them, at least in a school setting, in order to help them learn and grow. But I am really only trained for kids 6 and below. And I just… worry, I guess, about like.. messing her up or something.” You sighed, your insecurities showing a bit.
Robin reached her hand across the table and patted your arm, “Dude, you are like, the most motherly non-mom I’ve ever met. I’m positive you’d be good at it. Yeah, you’d make some mistakes, but every parent does. And I’m willing to bet that Eddie and Sage would help you through the process of figuring it all out.” She smiled.
“I guess so… but that’s probably years down the line before that would actually happen, so at least I’ve got time to get used to the idea.” You chuckled.
The waiter came back with your food, and you and Robin dug in. As you ate your french fries, a familiar face walked into the door: Mrs. Robinson, the other kindergarten teacher. She spotted you and you waved. She smiled and walked over to your table.
“Hey, Mrs. Robinson.” You greeted, smiling and cordial. “This is my friend, Robin.” You said, chuckling at the similar names.
“Oh, I know Robin.” She hummed, “She was one of my students years ago.” She’d definitely aged from the time Robin had been in her class, but she still looked and dressed the same. “And you can just call me Anne outside of work.”
Robin smiled up at her, “Nice to see you again.”
“Care to join us?” You asked, trying to be polite.
“Oh, thank you, but my husband is on his way here.” She smiled, then you saw it falter for a moment, “But I do have something to ask you.”
You raised an eyebrow, scooting over so she could sit next to you in the booth, “What is it?” You asked, having no clue as to what she could possibly ask you about.
“Well, I heard a rumor.. and I really just wanted to clear the air about it. I have no doubt in my mind that it’s not true, but I just wanted to confirm with you.” She said, waving her hand dismissively at the idea.
“What did you hear?” You asked, having a sinking feeling you knew where this was going.
“Well,” she started, clothing her purse close to her and leaning in, “I heard that you and that Eddie Munson boy were dating.” She chuckled, “Ridiculous, right? You wouldn’t go out with a boy like that- he’s not.. well, he’s from the wrong side of the tracks, literally.”
You felt Robin’s eyes on you, and you could practically feel her anger bubble, but you decided to keep it simple and professional.
“Oh, actually, Anne, I am. Dating Eddie, that is.” You smiled warmly, though you kind of wanted to punch her in the leg for how rude she’d been about it.
She looked utterly scandalized. “What?” She asked, clutching her purse in her lap, “Why- why would you ever do that, dear? Is your head screwed on straight?” She’d dropped her usually pretentious manner at this point, while you remained, outwardly, cool as a cucumber.
“Well, he’s a good man.” You said, slightly emphasizing the last word to correct her use of the word ‘boy’. “He has a good job, he just bought a home, and he is kind to everyone around him. I don’t see how that’s a bad thing.” You stated simply.
She sighed, grabbing your hand and holding it desperately. You wanted to smack it away, but you refrained, “Dear, he’s bad news.. he got a girl pregnant during his third repeat of senior year in high school. He notoriously deals drugs, he listens to that awful devil-worshiper music, he’s got these horrendous tattoos, and I mean, you’ve seen the way he dresses…and I heard that he was the leader of some Satanic-cult when he was younger.” She pleaded. “I don’t know how that precious baby girl hasn’t been taken from his home- it’s not safe.”
The longer the list became, the more agitated you felt, but you couldn’t let it show. If you made a scene, you’d only spur the rumors on. You took a deep breath, “Anne, he is a good man.” You reiterated, “Sure, he may have an eclectic sense of fashion and off-beat music taste, but that’s really all there is to it. He’s not a drug dealer, I like his tattoos, and the so-called ‘cult’ you’re referring to is just a storytelling game. It’s quite dorky, if I’m being honest.” You chuckled. “Plus, he is an amazing dad. He provides everything for Sage- she literally has anything she could ever want. And he’s involved. He came to every parent teacher conference, every recital, and he read to her every night to ensure she was excelling in school. He does a great job with her, and honestly, I think it’s a shame that more people done see that.” You paused for a moment before continuing, “You judge him based on his outward appearance and silly rumors you hear around town. But, if you had an actual conversation with him, you’d know that he is kind and genuine and absolutely hilarious.” You felt Robin smile with pride at your sentiments. “It’s quite foolish to think that anyone is not worth more than what you’ve heard about them, don’t you think?”
Mrs. Robinson shook her head and let your hand go, moving to get up, “I’m only trying to help you out, dear.”
“I appreciate that, but I can take care of myself.” You said coolly. “I’ll see you in our professional development workshop in two weeks.” You said, smiling like none of this phased you.
She left to go sit with her husband, and you looked over at Robin. “Woah, dude.. you’re like, the most level headed person I’ve ever met.” She mused.
Your smile turned strained, “Well I’m not about to be. Let’s go so I can say some choice words about what just occurred.” You said through gritted teeth.
Robin smiled and nodded quickly, digging cash out of her purse and slamming it on the table as the two of you got up from the table.
Once her car was out of the parking lot and onto the main road, your hands were flying around in the air as you yelled, Robin cackling in the drivers seat.
“What the absolute fuck was her problem?! First of all, how is it any of her business who I choose to be with? I don’t give a fuck about her old bag of a husband, so why should she care what I do outside of school? Secondly, how the hell can she just judge someone based off of shifty rumors that were spread about him fucking years ago! Like, how fucking shallow can you be! Lastly, how dare she have the nerve to sit there and call Eddie a bad dad! He’s literally one of the best parents out there, hands down. Ugh, I want to show her Sage’s scores alone compared to her entire class just to shove that shit in her face!”
Robin laughed, “Yeah, literally what was her problem?” She asked, “And oh my god, you should have seen her fucking face when you said you two were going out! She looked like you’d shit in her cereal!” She cackled. “And how were you so calm? Oh my god you should take up acting! You have an amazing talent there- you should really capitalize on it!”
You groaned, “Well if I was even the slightest bit rude to her, she could’ve confirmed that he was like, ‘ruining me’, or whatever else she and her friends talk about when they gawk at the freshly eighteen lifeguards at the pool.” That made Robin laugh so hard to the point where she had to pull over in a random parking lot so she wouldn’t crash her car. “She also could’ve come for my job somehow. So I really wanted to kill her with kindness. Really let her choke on it.”
“Hell yeah, man” Robin said, holding her sides as you joined her laughter. “But seriously, you should’ve seen her face when you didn’t give her any sort of a reaction. She looked like she was going to explode.”
The two of you howled in her car, eventually dying down and wiping stray tears and hiding your sore stomachs. Once the two of you recovered, you guys looked up and saw that you were actually in the parking lot of the record store and that Eddie was in the window, staring at the both of you with the most bewildered look on his face. He looked like a lost puppy, raising an eyebrow and cocking his head to the side. You and Robin made eye contact again, paused for a moment, then bursted out into peals of laughter yet again.
Since he’d already spotted the two of you, you both d decided to head inside the store. You got out of the car, shut the door, and linked your arm with Robin’s as the two of you walked in, still giggling.
“What is going on with you two?” Eddie asked, your laughter infecting him and making him chuckle.
“Sorry- it’s really not funny.” Robin sighed, “It’s actually kinda shitty, but it’s ridiculous, so it’s a little funny.”
You nodded, releasing Robin’s arm so she could go look around the store while you turned to Eddie to explain. “My coworker, Mrs. Robinson, you remember her?” You asked.
Eddie nodded.
“Well, Robin and I went to Benny’s. She walked in and criticized my choice in men, essentially.. Were really laughing at how I basically stone faced my way through it and she looked like she was going to shit her pants.” You sighed, rubbing a hand through your hair.
“Oh..” he whispered, sticking his hands in his pockets, looking a little dejected.
“I defended you, though, I swear.” You assured him, reaching out to grab his forearm gently. “I didn’t just like, let her bad mouth you. I just kind of… told her off with a smile on my face.”
Eddie shook his head quickly, “Oh, I have no doubt that you did that. I just-“ he placed his hand over the one you’d placed on his arm, “I hate that you’re catching flack for this. Hawkins isn’t an easy town for the unconventional.” He whispered, looking a little sad.
You raised an eyebrow, “Eddie, my skin is thicker than you think. I can put up with a lot of shit. And I really don’t care what other people think, as long as we’re good.” Your hand dropped from his arm to his hand, “The literal only reason I waited was because of my job. Hawkins’ opinion of me is irrelevant.”
He sighed and nodded, leaning in and kissing your forehead gently, “You’re kind of a badass.” He mumbled into your hair.
Robin overheard that statement and smiled, “Hell yeah she is, man. You should’ve seen her- so calm and relaxed while also ripping that old fart a new one. It was great.”
You laughed, leaning into Eddie‘s touch for a moment before he had to get back to work. “Hope you don’t mind we stopped in. We weren’t planning on it.”
He waved a hand dismissively as he went back to alphabetizing records, “You guys are always welcome.”
“Is Sage here?” You asked in a whisper.
He nodded, “She’s in the break room in the back. I’m sure she’ll run out here soon- she’s almost finished with her snack. I bet she’ll be happy to see you guys. The poor girl has been so bored all day, I just can’t exactly give her much to do.”
You nodded and started walking around the store, deciding to get some music while you were there. You peeled over to Robin’s stack of cassettes, which consisted of the usual pop stuff you’d hear on the radio.
It didn’t take long for Sage to wander out of the back of the store. She first ran to Eddie, who pointed to you and Robin, whispering something you couldn’t hear. She beamed and ran over to where the two of you stood, yelling your names and pulling Robin’s legs into a bear hug before doing the same to your own.
“Hey, kiddo!” Robin smiled, “How ya doin’?”
“I’m so booorrreeeddd.” Sage groaned, tossing her head back dramatically. She looked just like her dad in that moment and you couldn’t help but giggle.
“I’m sorry, Sage.” You sighed, “But, I might have something you can do.”
She picked her head up and eyed you suspiciously, “What?”
You crouched down to her level, “I need help finding some good music. Can you help me pick some stuff out?” You asked, Robin chiming in a short, “Me too.”
Sage beamed, excited to have a mission to complete. She grabbed one of yours and one of Robin’s hands enthusiastically and led you two through the store, pointing at the sections she liked, which mostly consisted of kids records. You guys played along, picking up records and examining each one and making a show out of either putting them in your pile or wrinkling your nose and putting them back, making her laugh.
You were so focused that you didn’t notice how Eddie had lost his focus. His eyes trained on you as you humored his daughter, helping her combat her boredom. The corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile, his chest swelling with a mixture of pride and joy. He loved that the two of you were friends.
Robin spotted him while you were busy making Sage giggle by holding a record up to the light like you were inspecting a dollar bill. She smirked at him, seeing how he was watching you, causing a blush to bloom across his cheeks and making him whip his head back to his work quickly.
Robin turned back to you and whispered something in your ear, and you smiled and nodded at the idea. She then walked up to Eddie, clapping him on the back, causing him to jump a little.
“Hey buddy old pal.” She chuckled.
Eddie sighed and looked down at the girl, having a feeling she was up to something, “What do you want, Buckley?” He deadpanned.
She laughed loudly, “Oh shut up, I’m trying to help you.” She took a beat before nudging him, “You want us to take Sage off your hands for a couple hours? We were planning on going to see a movie later, so we could take Sage with us so she doesn’t have to sit around here all day. It would be a great way for the two of them to bond too.”
Eddie thought about it for a moment, wishing that he could’ve been the one going with the two of you instead of Robin. “Yeah, sure. Just- we aren’t telling Sage about us yet, so could you please be on your best behavior?” He asked her.
She smiled and nodded before spinning on her heel and going back over to you, nodding her head like a little kid who’d just been told they could have a sleepover. You smiled and continued searching the store with her.
After you’d been convinced to buy a couple random cassettes by Sage, you walked over to Eddie hand in hand with his daughter, “Hey, we’re ready to check out.” You smiled.
Eddie turned and nodded, heading to the register and trying not to get flustered by your smile and how you interacted with his daughter. He’d tried to date in the past, but everyone had quickly bolted when they’d heard about his kid. So seeing you embrace her, while also liking him, felt like some kind of miracle.
You placed your items on the counter and picked up Sage and placed her there as well, “So, dad, can Sage come with us to the movies?” You asked, acting like she was one of the girls. “We’ll only let her have all the popcorn and candy and soda she could ever want.”
Sage’s eyes lit up and she looked at Eddie excitedly, “Please?” She asked, giving him her best puppy-dog eyes. You copied her face, trying not to giggle.
He looked between the two of you, “You guys are going to be the death of me.” He chuckled, “But sure, Sage. You can go. We’ll just have to make sure we brush your teeth extra good before bed, okay?”
She nodded and smiled like it was Christmas morning, squealing and hugging you. You smiled and patted her back, watching Eddie put your items in a paper bag. She released you and you leaned over the counter, resting your elbows on the cool surface, “You want me to drop her off at your house after?” You asked.
He nodded, “Yeah, I get off work at 6, so I should be home by the time the movie gets out.” He handed you your bag and Robin walked up to purchase her items as well.
Once the two of you had everything, Robin picked up the bags and you picked up Sage, holding her on your hip like you’d been doing so for years. Eddie wanted to pull you into a kiss right then, but he knew better. That would’ve really confused Sage.
Robin smiled, “Well, thanks for letting us kidnap your child. We’ll be sure to spoil her so she won’t sleep tonight.” She joked.
The two of you walked back out to her car, and you buckled Sage into the back seat. “Oh, I think I forgot something inside. I’ll be right back.” You smiled before closing her door and walking into the shop. Robin knew exactly what you were doing, but she turned and talked to Sage to keep her occupied until you came back.
You walked back into the empty record shop and Eddie looked at you from the counter, “Hey- everything okay?” He asked. You smiled and walked behind the counter, then grabbed his hand and dragged him to the back room, which made him raise his eyebrows raise in shock, “What are you do-“
Once you were out of the field of view of the parking lot, you pulled Eddie down to kiss you. He was a bit surprised at first, but after a moment, he leaned into it and kissed you back, his arms wrapping around your waist.
Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and he pulled you close, melting into your presence. After a moment, he broke the kiss slowly and looked down at you, a little starstruck, “What was that about?” He asked, smiling against your lips, neither of you having backed away.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks. I like you.” You whispered, making eye contact with him and keeping him close.
He hummed, “I don’t either. And I like you too.” He leaned in once more and kissed you again, humming against your lips before you two separated, stepping back. “By the way, totally unfair that Sage gets a movie date before I do.”
You chuckled, “Our first date was a movie.”
“Yeah, but there wasn’t movie theatre popcorn.”
“Well I’m free this weekend if you want to go.”
He nodded and pecked you one more time before you turned and walked out, Eddie smacking your ass lightly as you walked away, causing you to giggle and roll your eyes as you left the store.
The ride to the theatre was filled with terrible singing, as Robin insisted on cranking up the radio and rolling the windows down. Once you guys pulled into the movie theatre parking lot, you helped Sage get out and the two of you held her hands, lifting her up and swinging her as you walked into the theatre.
You guys picked a child appropriate movie to watch, bought the tickets, then raided the concession stand, buying way more snacks than the three of you could consume within a 2 hour window. You found your seats and got comfy, passing the popcorn bucket between the three of you, Sage in the middle and having to use both hands, as the thing was half her size.
The movie started and Sage was transfixed, giggling at the obvious jokes while you and Robin chuckled at the jokes they included for the adults in the room. When she’d had her fill of the snacks, Sage sighed and leaned against you, resting her little head on your arm. You moved it and allowed her to rest on your side as you wrapped an arm around her.
You looked over at Robin, who’d noticed the sweet scene, and smiled softly. She gave you a subtle thumbs up and turned her attention back to the screen.
Eventually, Sage fell asleep against you, her head having slowly drifted to your lap with tired eyes. You played with her hair as she slept, and you and Robin sat through the rest of the movie, whispering “that’s what she said” every time the joke could’ve been set up.
Once the credits rolled, you slowly moved and picked Sage up, letting her sleep as you walked out to the car. You had to rouse her when you got in, though, as she needed to sit up so you could buckle her in. She whined, but complied, sleepy and rubbing her eyes.
The ride over to Eddie’s was quiet, the radio playing softly as you watched Hawkins pass outside of the window. Robin pulled into Eddie’s driveway and you suddenly realized that you hadn’t been to his house yet.
Sage had fallen asleep again in the backseat, so you slowly got her out, telling Robin that you had it- don’t worry. She stayed in the car as you walked to the front door and knocked, rubbing Sage’s back as you waited for him to answer.
Eddie opened the door and saw his baby girl asleep in your arms. The sight made his knees feel a little weak. “Hey.” He whispered, stepping aside to let you in.
You smiled and walked into his house. It was cozy. There weren’t many decorations, but there was a killer music collection in the living room, bookshelves lined with cassettes and records and CDs, along with a few different ways to play the music. An acoustic guitar sat in the corner, covered in sparkly princess stickers, courtesy of Sage. A bin of toys sat beside the couch, and Sage had apparently set up a stuffed animal tea party at the bar in the kitchen. You really wouldn’t have expected anything else. It was perfect.
“Sorry it’s kind of a mess.” He whispered.
You shook your head, “It’s fine.” You adjusted Sage on your hip, “Where’s her room? I can just go lay her down.”
He led you down a hallway and to a room that looked like a rainbow sparkle unicorn barfed in it. It was so cute. You laid Sage down in her little bed before you and Eddie snuck out. You stretched as the two of you walked back to the living room, “You have a good day at work?” You asked, raising your arms above your head and stretching your back.
“Yeah. The usual, I guess. Seeing you was nice.” He smiled, reaching over and placing a hand on your waist, “Thank you for taking Sage. She was so bored. I feel bad- I really can’t afford a regular babysitter during the summers, so I just take her with me. There’s a tv and stuff in the break room, but having to entertain yourself for that long when you’re five years old is not easy.”
You nodded, “Of course, Eddie. I love hanging out with her.” You hummed, “And if she’s ever bored again, you can always call me and I can take her for the day.”
“You don’t have to do that.” He said softly.
“Yeah, I don’t. But Sage is a fun kid. Plus it’ll get me out of the house. I feel like I’m rotting in there.” You joked.
He chuckled, “Thank you.” He whispered before pulling you in for a hug. You hugged him back, taking in how he smelled: dust from the record store, a stale cigarette, coffee, and cologne mixed into an interesting and intoxicating smell that was distinctly him. You backed out of the hug, then looked down the hallway to ensure Sage wasn’t walking down it before leaning up and kissing him sweetly.
“I’ll see you this weekend?” You asked, looking hopeful.
He nodded, “Of course. I can’t wait.” He smiled.
You nodded and left his house, piling back into Robin’s car and driving off, feeling warm and fuzzy all over. Maybe you could let yourself start to think about the future a little more.
Tag List: @mcueveryday @bebe0701 @emma77645 @edsforehead @manda-panda-monium @nina211544 @wendyfawcett @whisperinthewoods07
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things#dad!eddie munson#dad!eddie munson x reader#singledad!eddie munson#singledad!eddie munson x reader#em#slow burn#strangers to friends to lovers#fanfic#teacher!reader#eddie x reader
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ahh okay if you still wanna talk about x files episodes how about wetwired? I feel like it's so underrated but it's one of my absolute favorites: the rob bowman lighting ~vibes~, the amazing acting from both gillian and david, the subtle but pivotal relationship building that (along w quagmire) leads us into the new dynamic of s4...I could talk about this episode for ages lol
always!!
wetwired is one that's just so heavy to me...it's all about worst fears. a killer in your yard. wolves at your feet. a woman with your husband. a lit cigarette in a dark night.
the killer isn't a shadowy figure or a monster from the forest or a man from the papers, it's your babysitter. it's your neighbor. it's you.
in wetwired, evil is transmittable, paranoia a communicable disease.
this show always understood that there is nothing special about mulder, that you don't know how you'll respond to grief or trauma or paranoia until it's you, and wetwired weaponizes this idea in it's monster-of-the-week's disintegration of scully.
suddenly, it is scully who is seeing cigarette smoke around corners. it's scully who is hearing clicks in phones and tearing her room apart looking for bugs. it's scully who trusts no one, who pulls her gun on her partner in fear.
these are all things that we've seen mulder do, but what is the line between caution and insanity? is it being right? is it seeking something that's actually there?
there's something so deeply scary and unsettling about scully, who is always steady in rationalism, who is always lucid and always wrong at the same time, chasing perceptions that aren't there.
while his partner is caught in quick buzzing fear, mulder is measured in reality and in discovering the science behind what's happening.
i love this moment here when he's called to identify a body, when he's about to go witness something real, and he pauses in the car. stops to kick the door after speaking to the plain-clothed man. closes his eyes in the hallway of the morgue.
mulder can be swift in leaps and moves, but he will drag to the truth if it's too tangible, if it's too much to bear.
in the climactic confrontation at maggie's house, paranoia gives way to wet, crippling fear. scully is halted in the overwhelm of the height of her panic, but still deeply affected by the grief in loss of trust.
mulder repeats her own words back to her verbatim ("i'm on your side, you know that" and "you are the only one i trust"), an attempt to communicate in a way she understands, in that language they have always had together.
much of what she's divulging has hung over them for years, as her worst fears are his worst insecurities. you are responsible for my abduction. you put this danger in my body. you killed my sister.
this is my favorite moment here, when trying to rationalize gives way to instinct, and maggie steps in front of mulder. she knows that her daughter feels safe with her, and would never hurt her. she isn't putting herself in danger so much as taking over, telling her daughter to lay it all down, standing protectively in front of her partner.
i love this relationship between the two of them. they're bonded in who they know, but there were three months not too long ago when it was just the two of them.
dana who was always the strong one, who apologizes for dying, collapsing in her mother's arms. the world being out to get you is one thing, having no one next to you is unendurable.
"i was so sure, mulder. i saw things and i heard things and...it was just like the world was turned upside-down. everybody was out to get me."
"now you know how i feel most of the time"
some half-truths in playful banter and hospital rooms, it's a bit of a role reversal as clear conversation about mulder's theory leads to discussion of "worst nightmares," and scully answers, "like me thinking that you'd betray me."
a casual confession that carries just as much weight as the weeping ruin of the previous scene, the slow build of the episode is revealed in the end. that underneath the hum of paranoia and the rush of mania, is the quiet devastation of dependence.
it makes me think of what she says in christmas carol:
"ever since i was a child, i've never allowed myself to get too close to people. i've avoided emotional attachment. perhaps i've been so afraid of death and dying that any connection just seemed like a bad thing, something that wouldn't last."
dr. scully the pathologist, death's best girl, who sees people long after they're gone. she often is resigned to her own impending death, and grieves the inherent loss in others connecting to her; something that won't last when you're bound to leave them.
but in wetwired, she is frantic about her own attachments, how few things would have to change or go wrong for her to be alone in this fight.
she has so little left here. her sister is gone. i think she knows, on some level, what that chip in her neck means. and her worst nightmare is that it would all be for nothing, that she would be in it alone. that mulder wouldn't be there with her.
#asks#thanks for the ask!#remember y'all can always send me an episode#i'm slowly working through my inbox haha#wetwired#kae meta
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its 11:34pm yet I HAVE to say this.
it has been on my mind for ages. All my friends know ab what I’m gonna say BUT
As a very strong Nash lover
I have a few characters who kinda remind me of Nash. Or he reminds me of them.
firstly - Sal Singh - agggtm - The way Sal HATES drugs, and fights, I think Nash thinks the same way.
second - Finny Smith (idk how to spell his actual name, not the nickname) - if he had been with me - because of how caring and friendly finny was (I shall not believe that he is dead. He will always live in my heart) it just matches to Nash’s vibe.
third - ROMAN TORRES. YES. - tis’ the damn season - the way Roman is also kind and honestly, he ain’t shy. Like, he straight away just made friends w Aspen. Out of like no where. That’s Nash when he goes to the bar thing. I can imagine how friendly and talkative Nash would be at the bar.
last but not least - Harry (flipping) Cameron - the seven husbands of Evelyn Hugo - Harry literally married Evelyn so that no one would suspect her of dating Celia. He cared so much for Evelyn that he done that for her. I mean…he did have his benefits from it, but I still think that the sacrifice was quite Nash like. Not that Nash is gay or anything. No. Just that I think Nash would do anything for Libby or Lee Lee or any other female/ male friends.
JUST ONE EXTRA THING
I think, that if Hugo, from the midnight game, would meet, our lovey dovey cowboy Nash, he would kinda get completely broken by Nash just for what he done. Or Max Hastings as well. (It hurts to even type his name) then Pip and Ravi would help hide the body.
BABYE GUYS
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Astro observations pt.7♠️
Aquarius rising in composite charts are the type of friendships/relationships that last really long and Can stop talking for a couple of months and talk again like they didn’t ghost each other😭😭 (me and my friend have this and we’ve been bestfriends for 6 years)
Libra moons have such warm hugs like 🤭🤭
Ppl w cardinal rising signs can be attached to food when they first eat it for a longgg time since their 2nd house is fixed (I have this and I’m like that w every restraurant I go 2💀)
Pisces placements (especially moon) May have been influenced around drugs through father figure and May be more prone to taking drugs in General
why do pisces placements that are men or Taurus placements always gotta make fun of the fact that your something for example : my friend be saying “ur so short😦” LIKE SHUT YO BITCH ASS UP
Air sign chirons are most likely to forget their trauma since they have so many things going around in their head (unless they have major earth sign placements tho)
Pluto in 10h people should be careful when it comes to cultural things or saying certain things because they usually have a bad reputation from what I’ve seen
(Ik this is unusual) My aunt has the same rising as me and she has her moon sign in cancer while I have my moon sign in 4h , my uncle and her treat me as their own and have since I was little and people used to think they were my mom and dad sometimes 😭
Pisces mercury men are so dry in text and don’t understand humor sometimes when it comes to tha media but irl they r rlly funny
My cousin has a Scorpio stellium and god damn he is dramatic dramatic
Cancer moons with a cardinal rising sign Can sometimes take the role of mothering for their younger siblings or just take the role for mothering for kids that aren’t even theirs sometimes
Having ur moon in 4h Can indicate your mother having u at a young age sometimes
Aquarius or 11h placements are willing to make sacrifices for people but the people wouldn’t for them sometimes:(
Ive rarely met any Virgo placements a lot of the time
In Astro observations i never see people talking about virgos or Gemini’s alot
Sun-ascendant, Leo rising, major 5h placements in personal planets usually have a golden tone to their hair
My other cousin has an Aquarius stellium and he acts js like me when I was little so I really can understand him and I feel rlly bad for him because he always gets left out for things 😕
Cancer risings look more identical to their mother a lot of the time
Virgo risings usually have this asymmetrical nose sometimes or a petit nose
Leo placements always give me vibes from that one song that’s called “loyalty” by Kendrick Lamar and Rihanna
Sagittarius venuses like having quickies when it comes to $ex
#spotify#venus trine ascedant#astrology#mf doom#music#playlist#art#rap#asteroid astrology#astrology chart#astrology observations
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FSR Rambles magic 8 ball-
Here we go again, I feel the chemicals kicking in-
Ah, we've arrived at a scene I literally wanted since I read the manga so I might have some stuff to say. X'D
Shadow introducing Vio to Vaati. Like I stated on the posts of these updates, it's heavily implied (And even outright stated in the German translation, thx AK for that info ^w^) Vio met with Vaati directly.
Also his "I can't believe I didn't notice..." line when fake Zelda turns out to be Vaati ALSO leads me to think he knew what Vaati looked like/has met him before....?
In English it's vague as hell but the Viz Translation has a few genuine flubs imo compared to what I've seen of other translations. (The German one seems super accurate from what I've heard? but that makes sense because it was directly translated from Japanese to German apparently. English gives off "interpretation not 1 to 1" vibes.)
Suffice to say: I've REALLY wanted to know how their interactions went down. X'D
Shadow feels he has some leverage with Vaati since TECHICALLY him and Vaati are equals? Even though Vaati bosses him around oof.
Because Creatures of darkness can sense fear, despite Vio putting on a blank face Shadow knows Vio's nervous and kinda tries to subdue it. (He cares aww)
He's really excited to get this out of the way so they can officially work together.
I figure he technically doesn't NEED Vaati's permission but is still getting it anyway: Because he doesn't wanna upset daddy lmfao.
Also the lines about Vaati being "Lazy" and using people: It comes up later
Vaati's entrance here was so fun to think of. Bro was napping or smth lmfao. Loved the idea of his weight being so huge it shoves giant gusts of wind as he rises.
The other 3 in FS seem surprised, I think it's supposed to be Green who shouts "SO THAT'S VAATI!?" during the fight. Already mentioned Vio's "I can't believe I didn't notice" rather than HORROR at the Eldridge monster they're about to take on??? X'D
Figured he got the terror out of the way when he MET Vaati. Because Vio is ya know, not experienced fighting DEMONS and virtually ALONE right now he is obviously shitting bricks at the sight of this huge floating eyeball demon lmao.
He also holds Shadow's hand cause it's cute and Shadow Link is the only person who could MAYBE protect him against Vaati.
I can't with eye contact so maybe I'm just a wuss but Vaati's design is so unnerving to me. X'D Also again: If you know my previous fandom work you know I love creepy/scary scenes. You'll notice I virtually always avoid making characters look AT YOU because I literally hate that so much in manga.
Especially in romance scenes I cannot stand eye contact, don't look at me look at your lover lmfao. So if a character in my comics is looking AT the audience: It's because it's meant to be uncomfortable.
Vio tries to dampen his own fears and Shadow not so casually tries to keep things smooth between them and Vaati. Talking about how great this is.
Vaati can see right through that shit though.
Vio tries to pass off his fear as just being nervous to meet someone so amazing lmfao. Stroke that ego Vio, Vaati's a sucker for that kind of thing.
Vaati wants a moment alone with the hero. X'D
Shadow again is very adamant on Vio being on their side because he really thinks they are.
He in THEORY has just as much of a say as Vaati and has MORE of a say considering Vio's fate is up to him because Gannon put him in charge of that.
Which is hysterical considering he's like 14 to 15 here at minimum considering Link's old enough to drink in FSR and Link deals with the curse for 7 years tho their ages are really whatever in the flashbacks. Like the idea of Vaati and a 14 year old having the same amount of say on their evil plans is so damn funny to me lmao. Gannon thinks Vaati is as competent and useful as a literal child and that's HILARIOUS.
Vio is quick to realize Shadow's wording here and that SOMEONE is a bigger player. He assumes Gannon because that's the only name he has to go off of.
Something I noticed in the manga: Despite being Shadow's partner Shadow doesn't EXPLAIN a LOT to Vio. Vio has to ask him things lmao. I genuinely wonder if it's a trust issue thing or if it's a "he didn't ask so I didn't tell" thing. I had to be smart about this scene because Vio and Shadow don't bring up Gannon until like...WAY LATER in the timeline of them hanging out. I really try to take into consideration the timeline of the actual manga while writing in-between scenes.
I'd love to do an entire rewrite of FS but I do not have the time or patience for that. X'D
Honestly the most annoying thing about writing in between scenes is just how WEIRD it is from like: a regular ass person perspective.
Like it's not natural to be like "Yeah lol Gannon, I'll wait to bring that up like a week after it was first relevant"
This is done a LOT in media. Lmao literally just experianced a scene like that in JJK volume 0. It's like for the audiences sake, always awkward and ALWAYS done for exposition, and it's ALWAYS weird from like: an actual person conversation side of things? Idk if I'm articulating this well lmao.
So Shadow was told to leave the room because Vio brings up Gannon to gain Vaati's trust and I needed a reason for Shadow and Vio not to bring up Gannon here because they do later in the manga.
But I thought it'd be clever if Vio brought up Ganon because: He's already gambling might as well use the fact he THINKS the bigger player is Ganon to his advantage.
Anyways: Shadow's still a bro and gives Vio some advice on dealing with Vaati.
The panel of Vaati's eyeball/body taking up the entire background behind Vio while he steels his mind miiiiiight have a very special place in my heart. UwU It's just so ominous.
I wanted to get across just how much of a threat Vaati is. Mans is TERRIFYING. He's also HUGE.
Vio's rightfully terrified of this thing. I really wanted to show the struggle Vio went through with this plan because it was A HUGE RISK. I feel kinda snuffed we didn't get to see Vio's struggles with this plan in the manga save a few panels of him looking guilty.
We were robbed by page restraints and I'll never forgive whoever only gave Akira 2 volumes for FSA for that, they did SO GOOD for what they had to work with though so don't think I'm dunking on them for this.
I also get the liberty of giving thought bubbles. Smth I noticed is the severe LACK of thought bubbles in FSA?
Also 1 on 1 convos but that's a whole other thing. Again, time and page restraints would be my assumed reason. Pacing in FSA was rushed so I can't really say "For pacing reasons" imo.
So we get to see inside Vio's head as he goes through this, he uses Shadow's assumptions about him here: "Admitting" he always had second thoughts and admired the darkness.
Vaati is obviously skeptical of this nonsense considering who Vio is.
Vio really hams it up.
Bringing up Gannon which surprises Vaati considering NONE of the heroes should even know about Gannon. He is purely there to distract them while Gannon gains power after all lmao.
The fact one of them KNOWS is not only surprising but kinda scary!
Vio continues to show his "faithfulness" by bowing and declaring his loyalty.
His words hit different for somebody who's been through the same shit as Vio's describing, as Vaati's eyes widen and his wings droop as Vio continues to describe how he would have been despised.
If you don't know: Minish Cap manga explains Vaati worshipped the darkness and was a bit of an outcast.
Vio's mind is on one person only at this moment: Princess Zelda! :D
Vio cares about Zelda deeply as we'll continue to see through FSR.
I don't like to see it as romantic (Just because I think Vio is gay but that's a whole other thing), but he is DRAWN to her and wants to protect her no matter what, because well a LOT of reasons.
1. He's apart of Link. And this version of Link and Zelda are childhood friends and deeply care about each other. So just on a personal level he wants her to be alright
2. He's apart of the chosen hero destined forced to save hyryle.
3. I kind of like to think Zelda Gannon and Link have the Triforce in FSR at least, and it's drawn to itself.
Side note: Would love for the Triforce to appear on Link/the four's hands at some point. Because I love that design motif on Links.
The moment of truth...Did his plan work? Everything is FUCKED if it didn't...
Vaati just silently stares at him as Vio dares to raise his head to meet Vaati's eye.
But Vio can't even tell if Vaati's looking at him in this moment with that thousand yard stare.
Rightfully: Vio is still shitting bricks.
Lol so that blurred word bubble is Vio stating "Lord Vaati?" but Vaati can't hear him lmao.
He's too busy wrapped up in remembering the time he grave robbed-
Jokes aside: You might have noticed smth a tad ODD about being able to see what Vaati was thinking in this moment. But this point is SO FAR from being relevant I'll just leave you to think about it.
If ya noticed it: You noticed. I'll bring it up when it's actually relevant. Which is a LONG time away.
Anyways also if you don't know: Master Elzo gives Link the hat Vaati used to be magical boy at the end of Minish Cap's manga. So Vaati's just stealing it back lmfao.
He is still a demon with magic regardless of the hat, the hat is just a symbol of his bad boy-ness.
Also the idea he "returned" to Minish Cap Link after the dude died was an idea I just could not leg go of.
I maybe have an idea for Minish Cap Link in FSR but I dunno if I'll end up going with it or WHERE. Stuff has changed in the script before so who knows.
Stealing some of Zelda's light force forever fucked Vaati's mind and body up.
You can kinda assume what went down but the general idea is Master Elzo is fucking dead and Vaati's on a downward spiral. Link is dead because the door between the Picori and the Hylians only opens every 100 years.
Also the "Using people" line: Vaati often doesn't use his own striength but uses others to achieve his goals.
Ya know like a coward. X'D
Nobody ever fully trusted or accepted Vaati after what he did in the events of the Minish Cap manga. Sooooo.
Bro turns back to the dark side.
That's the only thing I could think of after seeing he was "Good" at the end of Minish cap manga I was like "????????" after reading FSA first. X'D
Like did he just wake up one day and decide to be evil again lmfao.
The Zelda manga's reference themselves so I'm under the impression they're all SOMEWHAT connected. SO like-
WHAT'S VAATI'S DEAL???
Presumably after this he went on to do the events in the story told at the start of the FS Manga: where he fights the first incarnation of the four hero.
Which holy shit I'd also like to dive into buuuuut mmghhh- It's wild to me OUR Link from FS manga is the SECOND bitch to do this. Like MMHH So interesting to me...
Insanity aside this is my explanation for "Good" Vaati. He just reverted. Like a lot of people would under that scenario.
Lol looking at the same face he did years ago. That must be weird.
Vaati kinda felt a kin-ship with the purple hero cause...YOU KNOW. EVERYTHING I STATED BEFORE THIS. XD
He's a Link-
He's caught off guard by all this so is just kinda like "Oh...Yeah sure you're a part of the team yeah... Yeah...Whatever"
Vio broke Vaati by appealing to his trauma lmao.
Shadow spying on if Vio's okay is very funny to me. Dude's worried about his new friend.
Shadow nervously walking up to Vaati after being caught spying is very funny to me. Bro was just keeping an eye on his new Boyfriend. UwU
Vaati asks for Vio's unput well: Because he was on the Four Hero team at one point lol. If he IS evil getting his opinion is a good route to take.
Which he doesn't fully believe considering he's still sus of Vio but doesn't feel like arguing with Shadow, who is the equivalent to his boss's entitled bratty kid.
Vio of course gets leverage to go to Death Mountain, because he's holding onto the idea he MIGHT be able to regroup.
Vaati's still distracted as fuck from the state of his expression. X'D Like he's kinda just, repeating himself/out of it.
Shadow's just like "Yeah yeah shut up we're great yeah yeah It's fine it's fine"
Shadow takes a moment to just walk ever so casually away from Vaati getting enough distance before showing how happy/excited he is.
I just like drawing Shadow trying to touch Vio in some way he's so starved for attention and positive interaction. Not having a bad word to breathe about Vio before the betrayal was always funny to me from the manga. He just admires this boy so much.
Like, I like showing off that "He's not really EVIL" side of Shadow link half the fandom seems to DESPISE.
Cry harder we sympathize with Shadow Link in this house. UwU
Vio's cracking under the welcoming nature a little by making a jokes, and even thinks "Man I used to be scared of this dude"
Shadow is just a little guy in love and I like that about him moving on-
Vio laughs at his dumb joke and Shadow's like "Finally you're not a tense weirdo" X'D
Vio's coping hard lmao.
He's still just a kid during these events so it's HARD to deal with what's going on. I wanted to write him getting his cracking through because how normal he acts in the events of the manga leads me to think he steeled himself overtime.
Laughing his ass off before going into a state of pure raw emotion of "Holy shit I could have just died" comes off as jarring and unnerving.
Shadow can tell SOMETHING's wrong but guesses the cause wrong.
Shadow assumes Vio's having a difficulty with the heat.
This goes off of TOTK/BOTW logic where sapphires ward off heat because I think that's awesome.
If I were rewrighting FSA I'd have him give Vio a different outfit or smth like that.
I DO love the sapphire specifically though because um: Anyone remember what the Zora Sapphire was in OOT?
Lmao an engagement ring- X'DDDD
From that one frame of Blue yanking out his hammer from his hat we know they store shit in there. Freakin' Link From the LOZ cartoon has a magic bag that shrinks his shit and I find that hysterical. I like to think Link's hat works similarly.
Vio's blushing and not unsubtle heart skipping is so funny to me.
If the fact Vio kissed Shadow first didn't already get ya:
Vio's in love with Shadow Link too lmao.
#FSR Rambles#four swords returns#four swords#four swords manga#four swords adventures#four swords returns au#loz fsr au
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[Now I'm imagining a Judge Judy or Maury-esque trial over the custody/parentage of Sun Luzhen and the other SWKs vs their universes' respective Nuwa, Houtu and Fuxi.]
Goodness, that guy has to earn a LOT of overtime to deal with SWKs and the fams nonsense. Hope they invite him to family events too X)
[Reborn SWK/Smokey is the most furious since he has a whole complex over not having parents.]
I wanna write something funny, but all I can make up is the image of Reborn Nuwa shoving as much money and stuff as possible as Hush Money so that their connection stays a secret. I feel like that would make Smokey super-duper mad.
[Plum, realising that he probably shouldn't have said that: "The... the supreme goddess of the moon?" (o_o;) Other LEMs: "THE WHO?!?"]
Plum, poking head into the room with the SWKs: Sorry about that, but I think I broke your partners.
Damn, so Mac's also royalty! Although, how well known was that if he worked as PIFs attendant in the Celestial Realm?
...now I am curious how Babs and Gibs came to be...what's their lineage? And do they know of it?
[Different SWKs reactions ahoy!]
Hmm...how do the LEM's (and rest of the Pilgrims if they are around) feel about Luzhen? He has to quite literally rock their world with the revelations.
[He's used to sudden children by now.]
Peach, hearing Dasheng's footsteps in the house: Hey, bud, what's ahhh... *Sees that Dasheng has 10 kids, all hanging from his limbs...* Umm...
Dasheng: I walked by an orphanage...
Peach: Wow, your dad vibes are over 9000, huh?
Dasheng: What does that even mean?!
[heck yeah, I'm dad, not our neglectful creators.]
I am picturing Dasheng looking at either of the gods in question and going, "Oh look at that, the deadbeats are here. Have you brought the child support or do I have to boot you off my mountain again?"
[it's not his fault another him got made! And whats more he's furious at their creators for "allowing" another Stone Monkey to be born to face the same crisis/trials he did.]
You know, I once read that we grow up to be the person our younger selves would have felt the safest with. Paraphrased a bit, but the idea is there. They are two different people, but, maybe he can help heal his inner child in this way.
[His cub now, their creators can screw off!]
I have this image: One of the parents in question coming in hot to claim parental rights or something, only for Cherry, handling his Luzhen off to somebody to keep safe, to launch an attack so brutal and bloody Buddha took one look at the carnage and noped out of there, going like "Not even I am willing to fuck with that. Nope."
[They do have a little brain itch of what this could mean for them tho.]
Not the brain itch you or Shihou were having, but mine is itching with the question of...how would SWK and/or LEM handle a child with cognitive disabilities - like serious ones at that?
[Meanwhile Mac is just like; "He's a toddler. They all want to fight heaven."]
Well, he's not wrong. I am told as a small child I advocated for burning the government whenever the adults complained about something relating to politics. I was quite the anarchist.
[albeit one thats technically his uncle(?) he's not gonna worry about that part.]
I did one read a book where the middle-school-aged-MC had a two-year-old Baby Aunt. I also thought it was odd - but also one hell of a way to find out your parents/grandparents are still getting it on.
Gonna have to be my replies under Read more soon cus gotdang you really give me a lot to talk about! /positive :D
[Goodness, that guy has to earn a LOT of overtime to deal with SWKs and the fams nonsense. Hope they invite him to family events too X)]
SWK's lawyer def gets a yearly holiday card, and invites to family events. He's practically family after the first couple of scandals.
[I wanna write something funny, but all I can make up is the image of Reborn Nuwa shoving as much money and stuff as possible as Hush Money so that their connection stays a secret. I feel like that would make Smokey super-duper mad.]
F in chat to poor Smokey; who wanted a meaningful relationship/an apology from his creators and now only has worthless hush money, and a small son/brother(?) to take care of.
[Damn, so Mac's also royalty! Although, how well known was that if he worked as PIFs attendant in the Celestial Realm?]
The Celestial Realm recognised LMK!Mac as *belonging* to the supreme Mood Deity, but were unsure exactly how. He's a monkey after all, and Taiying is human (they think). Maybe he's her pet? Alchemy experiment gone wrong? Either way, he was a calming influence on the young and frustrated Princess Tieshan, so he was at least treated with the same respect as a lady-in-waiting - although not as much as humanoid celestial would be.
If the Celestial Realm knew the Six Eared Macaque was the child of the Supreme Moon Deity, then he might have had some weight to throw around the court - if Lady Taiying recognised him as such. Otherwise its another aspect they would have mocked him for - whats more to them than another illegitimate noble?
Also; Plum accidentally breaking all the other LEMs cus he didn't realise that they didn't know about their origins. XD
[…now I am curious how Babs and Gibs came to be…what's their lineage? And do they know of it?]
Odds are those two were created by separate star entities long before the modern earth even existed. Earth is were they spent their teenage/college years essentially before they retired to space. If they know of their origins, they don't care much.
Rest of replies under Read More!
[Hmm…how do the LEM's (and rest of the Pilgrims if they are around) feel about Luzhen?]
Most of the LEMs are shocked silent for the most part.
Plum/LMK!Mac: in particular a little annoyed but adoring that a tiny copy of Wukong has been dropped onto his lap. But hey, free baby is free baby. Will kill anything that dares to inflict any of SWK's trauma onto Luzhen.
Zhanshi/HiB!LEM: immediately goes full mom-mode on the infant monkey. Little guy needs a stable home after all! Hunting down his primordial in-laws for answers can wait... for now.
Liang/Reborn!LEM: is a little faster to accept Luzhen as their responsibility than Smokey, and helps to be the "softer" parent of the two. They def agree that the gods can screw off tho.
Olive/Netflix!LEM: is initially so freaked out that they don't want anything to do with Luzhen. But the moment the little guy reaches out for a hug... who is Olive to deny him? A bit colder, but is warming up fast. Is the one who holds Luzhen while Cherry fights the gods - like the infamous "Get his ass baby, I got your flower" except flower is baby.
Joker/NewGods!LEM: is already bouncing the kid on his knee. Its a shock but hey, its like how they got their MK. Little guy is stinking adorable too. Is also very mad at the gods for being so irresponsible. Probably gets really defensive when people ask if him and Ace are Luzhen's grandparents tho.
Spice/2000s!LEM: is scared. So very scared. Mostly out of worry. He's just coming to terms with his own creation/identity, and now there's a bonus Wukong?! What if the gods take Luzhen away!? He needs to sit down a bit. Takes him a while to see Luzhen as more than a extension of SWK, afterwards its more mentor and tudi vibes.
Meihouwang Mihou: is... still in shock. He reacted badly enough to Shihou's arrival, and now an entire infant version of Shihou needs food and parents to take care of him. Its overwhelming. And then Shihou approaches him for advice? On how to raise Luzhen? Oh gosh, maybe this was a sign from the gods. His ears are flooded with the sounds of wedding bells and laughing infants. This oz his and Shihou's baby now. Still asks the Elder monkeys for help tho, since he barely knows what to do more than Shihou does.
Lilac/Smash!LEM: is hesistant to get close. They feel that they can't just drop everything to raise a whole kid, not with their career quicky on the rise. Their Wukong is such a good caretaker tho, and Lilac feels a little guilty when they can't join in on family time. Def dedicates a song about "little falling stars" to Luzhen, and has frequent video calls when he's away. Vows to spoil the kid anytime they're together to make up for any time lost.
The other pilgrims are having bluescreen errors every time they try thinking about the ramifictions of multiple earth/creation gods pulling up to drop lore like that.
The Tripitakas are torn between "Oh its a blessing!" and "Oh sweet Buddha, theres two of them now." HiB!Liuer has already claimed his Luzhen as his little brother/fellow tudi.
You know the Zhu Bajie's are laughing their butts off once the shock wears off. Lots of child support jokes. Declares themselves the different Luzhens' uncles.
Sha Wujing is a little more... unsettled. Why did a bunch of gods just show up- oh sweet buddha they're Older Brother Sun's creators?! And theres' a little Sun now!? Reborn!SWJ def has a small breathing-into-a-paper-bag anixety attack. Afterwards though they feel a greater kinship, with their Luzhens and SWKs. After all, they feel "discarded" by the gods also.
[I am picturing Dasheng looking at either of the gods in question and going, "Oh look at that, the deadbeats are here. Have you brought the child support or do I have to boot you off my mountain again?"]
The idea of Dasheng looking the earth gods in the eye and calling them "deadbeats" is the most perfectly in-character thing for him ever. I love it.
[You know, I once read that we grow up to be the person our younger selves would have felt the safest with. Paraphrased a bit, but the idea is there. They are two different people, but, maybe he can help heal his inner child in this way.]
That is literally the most sweetest and heartbreaking thing. Smokey considers himself "broken", but Luzhen as "still good enough" to help. By being a good protector and influence, he secretly hopes to heal the scared child he once was. :']
Meanwhile, Netflix!SWK/Cherry is fighting any gods that dare threaten to take his mini-me away.
[how would SWK and/or LEM handle a child with cognitive disabilities - like serious ones at that?]
Honestly? Pretty ok. They know that people can be born "different" and have different hurdles to overcome. In the wild, macaques are known to pay extra attention to troop members with disabilities, and treat them kindly.
I hc MK as having adhd, which really affects his attention and short term memory, so Shadowpeach have been working with that for a long time. Wukong and Macaque themselves are very autistic-coded (which makes my autistic butt very happy), and would have a lot of insight to how the kid might be feeling.
If one of their kids has another serious cognitive impairment, like being non-verbal, they'll find a way to adapt to it. SWK 100% has learned both forms of CSL over the years, and does a refresher in prep for MK's arrival. Helps a lot when the more monkey-ish side of the kids means that they don't verbalize for a long time compared to human kids.
[one hell of a way to find out your parents/grandparents are still getting it on.]
MK had that crisis at age 19 when the Lunar Nodelets were on the way. Like when he found out it was at a high-stress moment so he barely had time ot process it; "We had just saved the world from the Lady Bone Demon and you two were...?! Ugh! I need to wash my brain out."
Nezha had a more firey reaction when he learned of the Eclipse Twins years prior. He didn't even know the monkeys did that stuff. He was uber-grossed out in an almost cooties sort of way, but also in a "please for the love of buddha, don't fill the celestial realm with your spawn"-kind of way.
Tysm for sending so many cool questions in! You really rock my create brain <3
#wukongverse#long post#lmk character hcs#lmk backstory hcs#shadowpeach#the monkey king and the infant#the monkey king and the infant au#sun wukong#liu er mihou#six eared macaque#read more#lego monkie kid#lmk#monkey king hero is back#monkey king reborn#new gods nezha reborn#the monkey king netflix#meihouwang#journey to the west: legends of the monkey king#smash legends#sun luzhen#nuwa#jttw inspo fan children
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