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itsbeeble · 5 months

Text

TRY HARD

SUMMARY: Need to get rid of some junk? Well these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited time offer)

GENRE: smut, crack, fluff, minimal angst

PAIRING: Lee Juyeon x afab!reader (ft. sangyeon, sunwoo, and chanhee)

WC: 8.7k (oops)

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: name calling (reader calls Juyeon stripper boy, baby, and pretty boy. Juyeon calls reader pretty girl), swearing, mentions of college parties, Y/N roasts Juyeon like a lot, Juyeon stops a door with his foot, one bed trope (for like two seconds), sunwoo slander (learning from Fawn <3) Juyeon is not god's strongest soldier, masturbation (m and kinda f), p in v sex, implied unprotected sex, restraints are used, dom!reader kinda, bratty!Juyo kinda, really poor attempts at humor, i think there's more but that covers the big stuff

A/N: This was NOT supposed to be almost 9k. It was supposed to be 3k at MOST but i will not lie i will prolly end up doing this again for most of the fics I'm putting out for this collab oops. Anywayyyyy let's kick off the collab with arguably my funniest fic.

The first time you meet Lee Juyeon, you’re dressed in sleep shorts and the biggest sweatshirt in your closet. He’s standing at your door, and for a moment you can’t help but be confused by the fact that yes, there is a hot man in a white tank top and cargo pants leaning against your doorframe. And yes, he is, in fact, there for you and not the girls living down the hall from you.

And, to be fair, it wasn’t your fault that you thought he was a stripper. Really, it wasn’t. It’s not every day that you see a guy with a body to die for and the face of an angel.

“Are you some sort of stripper?” For a moment, the two of you are quiet. There’s a look of pure astonishment on his face that eventually turns into him fighting back a grin.

“Do you want me to be?” His tongue brushes over his lower lip while he scans you up and down and you scoff.

“No. The girls you’re probably looking for are down the hall, the last door on the right.” You begin to shut the door. “Have fun.”

“Wait!” His foot catches in the door before you can slam it shut and you hear him swear loudly. “Shit, that did not feel good.”

“Are you fucking stupid?” You swing the door open again, scowling at him. “Why would you try to catch this heavy ass door with your foot?”

“I thought it would look cool!” He winces, one hand gripping your door frame and the other cradling his aching foot. “Like in the movies!”

“I don’t know if you know this…” you trail off, squinting at him and realizing you have no idea who this man is. “Stripper boy,—”

“Juyeon,” you can practically hear his teeth grinding as he speaks. You hum.

“Stripper boy,” you bob your head. “That’s what I’m gonna call you.”

“Please don’t—”

“Anyway,” you interrupt again. “I don’t know if you know this, but romance movies are fictional. Of course, it’s not gonna look like the prop door and they’re gonna catch it like it’s nothing. This, however,” you hit your fist against your door, “is solid metal. Not gonna feel good when you catch this shit, dumbass.”

“Whatever,” Juyeon rolls his eyes and straightens his body out. “I was just making my rounds across campus, wanted to see if you’d be interested in supporting your local fraternity.”

You raise an eyebrow, reaching your hand out to take the flier from his hand.

College Hunks Hauling Junk!

Need to get rid of some junk? Well, these college hunks will haul YOUR junk! Give us a call at xxx-xxx-JUNK and we’ll haul YOUR junk for FREE! (limited-time offer)

Scan HERE to book your appointment!

“College hunks hauling junk,” you can’t help but laugh at the name and take the flier from Juyeon’s hands. He grins at you. “People are actually paying you guys to haul their shit away?”

He shrugs. “It’s free, technically. You’re allowed to donate, but we’re really just doing it for free. You know, help out fellow students and spread the word.”

“You sure it wouldn’t be easier to just do some stripping if you can’t pay the rent?” You ask. “Also, what do you mean spread the word?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Juyeon points a finger at the bottom of the flier, completely disregarding the first part of your sentence. Fuck, his hands are big.

This ad also doubles as your invitation to Tau Beta Zeta’s parties for the rest of the semester. Cash this in at any time and get into ANY parties for free! (Code word will be given at the time of flier being cashed in) (Girls get in for free, Guys $5 @ the door)

“We’re having a little competition with the sorority down the road from us,” Juyeon explains. “Whoever has more people by the end of the semester gets to host the end-of-the-year party and the other frat or sorority has to buy food and drinks.”

You stare at the paper for a second, pondering your options. Then you smile, look up at the man that you are still pretty damn sure is a stripper, and hand back the flier.

“I’m good, thanks.”

The door shuts, and you turn to go back to bed. The sound of paper sliding across the ground stops you, and you can see in the faint light that streams under your door that Juyeon slipped the flier into your room.

Fucking try hard.

The second time you see Lee Juyeon, he’s handing out fliers again. Only he isn’t walking around random apartment buildings with a weird seductive look that you honestly don’t doubt was working. This time, he’s in a hoodie and jeans and walking around the center of campus with people that you can only assume are his frat brothers.

At first, you almost don’t recognize him, but then his eyes meet yours, and you can see the corners wrinkle when he smiles. Again, you’re confused. Is he smiling at you?

Your head whips around, trying to find someone around you that he might be looking at, and when you turn around again, Juyeon is approaching you.

“Have you thought about it, pretty girl?” He asked and you stared at him dumbly for a moment. Did he just call you pretty girl?

“Thought about what?” He holds up that flier again, placing it in your hands similarly to the other night. “Oh.”

“Did you think I was kidding?” He leans down slightly, keeping eye contact. Your free hand places itself on his chest— which you hadn’t realized before was very solid— and pushes him back. He barely moves. In fact, you are the one who gets pushed back.

“Listen, stripper boy—”

“Juyeon—”

“Stripper boy,” you mimic the exasperated tone he uses with you. “If I wanted an invitation to a stereotypical frat party with a bunch of drunk 20-somethings and cheap beer and bad pizza and try-hard men like yourself, I would’ve gone by now.” You fold up the flier, smoothing out the edges before holding it out to him. He doesn’t take it, and you can see the gears turning in his brain.

“So what you’re saying,” he starts to smile and steps toward you again.”

“Stripper boy,” you warn.

“…is that there’s a chance?”

“Absolutely not, there is not a chance in hell that I’m gonna call some college hunks to haul junk out of my college apartment that I can barely afford to live in let alone pay you to take things out of.” Juyeon shrugs.

“Like I said, payment is optional and can come in…” he wiggles his eyebrows at you, “many different forms, pretty girl.”

“That’s gross, stripper boy.” You scrunch up your nose and he laughs. “Also, why are you calling me that?”

“Calling you what?” his smile only grows and you huff.

“Pretty girl.”

“Because you are a pretty girl.”

“No, I’m—” You catch yourself in the sentence when he leans forward onto the tips of his toes, ready to stop you. “You know what, fuck you. I know that was a dirty little trick and I’m not gonna fall for it just so you can swoop in and say something like oh nooo, don’t say that about yourself! You’re so pretty! And then you’ll tuck my hair behind my ear and you’ll try to kiss me and then—” You stop yourself again. Juyeon’s smile is almost scary at this point, stretching all the way across his face as if this had been his plan all along and you walked right into it.

“And then…?” He teases.

“…fuck you and your frat, stripper boy. God, you guys are such try-hards.”

You hold onto the flier this time, whether too embarrassed to give it back or genuine curiosity, you aren’t sure. You do know that you can’t stop the pounding in your chest, or the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Who was that?” Sunwoo slings an arm over Juyeon’s shoulder, both men watching you walk away with the flier held tightly in your hand. Juyeon smiles.

“Just someone I know.”

“Didn’t look like she was too happy to see you.” Sunwoo snickers and drops his arm down to stand straight. Juyeon turns to the younger man, the smile he had when standing with you now gone and replaced with a permanent scowl.

“Who even asked you, Sunwoo?”

The younger raises his hands in defense. “I’m just saying! It looked like she hated you. Oooh, maybe you’re finally gonna get that enemies-to-lovers arc that Eric is always— WHOA, HEY—” Sunwoo nearly trips over himself trying to get away from Juyeon as the older frat brother swings his arm out in his direction. “Don’t hurt this pretty face! How else is the soccer team gonna get their funds?” A hand in the shape of a finger gun finds its way under Sunwoo’s chin, and the star soccer player smirks.

“I think they’ll manage,” Juyeon swings his arm out again, wincing when Sunwoo lets out an ear-piercing squeal.

It’s like you’re seeing him everywhere. Every class you go to, it’s like he’s always there handing out fliers or chatting with his friends. And, unfortunately, every time you see him, he sees you too. He animatedly waves at you, calling your name or running over to you. Every time, you somehow end up with another flier to add to your collection.

For weeks you’ve been seeing him in places that you swear you’d never seen him in before. You swear that he’s not in your environmental course. You swear that he’s not in your sociology course. He just has to be following you.

That, or you just have shitty luck with Lee Juyeon.

It must be bad luck, you think as you watch the fire department evacuate your flooded building. It must be, you tell yourself as you stand there in the pouring rain in pajama shorts and a sweater, sans an umbrella. There’s nothing else it could be.

Your eyes narrow at the sight of Juyeon standing near a group of girls with those damned fliers in one hand and some umbrellas around the wrist of the other. Your hands tighten around your arms, body shaking from the cold of the rain. Your lips twist into a deep frown when he approaches you, his eyebrows knit together and his lips pursed at the sight of you. His mouth opens to say something, and you hold your hand up to stop him.

“Save it, stripper boy. I don’t want your fucking spiel right now.” His shoulders slump a little.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted an umbrella.” He holds one out, the last one on his arm. “You have to be freezing right now, and you’re absolutely soaked.” Your hand wraps around the umbrella, your eyes still narrowed with suspicion.

“Thanks…” he smiles and backs up to give you space to open it. You would never admit to his face that he was right. That you were freezing your ass off in this godforsaken weather.

“Are you okay?” You look up at him, sniff, and shrug.

“I mean, my home is currently flooding which leaves me homeless for at least a few days. It’s piss-pouring rain out here, I’m in my pajamas with all my clothing inside the flooded building, and now here you are probably trying to get me to buy from your stupid fundraiser thing.” You take a deep breath, finally looking him in the eye. “So no, I don’t think I’m okay, Juyeon. Thanks for asking.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then a small smile breaks onto his face.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve called me Juyeon.” You bite your tongue and turn to walk away from him. “Wait, fuck, Y/N it was a joke. I’m sorry.” He grabs your arm, pulling you back to him. You can see a little bit of panic in his gaze.

“Yeah, well it was a shitty joke.” You scoff.

“I know, poor taste, I was just trying to lighten the mood.” He pulls his hand from your arm, and you almost feel bad. It’s quiet between you two, and you think that this is the first time it’s ever been completely silent. Well, save for the chatter of other tenants and incoming sirens and the yells of officers.

“This fucking sucks,” you grumble, and Juyeon huffs out a laugh.

“Do you have anywhere that you go?”

You shake your head. “Nah, none of my friends have space for another person in their apartment or dorm.”

“You could stay with me.” He says it so fast, so suddenly, that you thought you misheard him at first.

“Excuse me?” Juyeon clears his throat, his cheeks and ears flushing and you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or embarrassment.

“I— I mean you— I’m just—” he stumbles over his words and you smile.

“Is the Lee Juyeon embarrassed right now? In front of little ol’ me, nonetheless?”

“I’m not embarrassed,” he snaps, pressing the back of one of his hands to his neck in a poor attempt to cool himself down. “I’m just— I—”

“Juyeon,” your hand comes up to his arm and he flinches. You let your arm drop down to your side. “Are you trying to ask me to stay with you while the building is being repaired?”

You’re smiling at him, and it’s like that tiny action brings back all of his previous confidence. He’s smirking again, leaning down under the tiny umbrella he gave you. It’s your turn to blush now, but your eyes don’t leave his.

“Because,” your voice nearly betrays you. “That would be a little…odd…wouldn’t it? A girl living with, what, ten men? People would talk.” He hums.

“But they would also find it odd if I just…left you to live in your car for god knows how long, wouldn’t they?” His hand is on your waist, and the breath in your lungs hitches.

“That’s true…” you hum and pull away from him. “I don’t have any clothes, though. I’d need to find some before doing anything.” Juyeon clicks his tongue and leans back, a thoughtful look taking over the previous…you don’t even know what to call what you were doing. Was he flirting with you? Were you flirting with him?

“That’s true,” he nods his head. “We can grab some from the store tomorrow? And for now, you can borrow some of my stuff— I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.” He stumbles over his words again, and you can’t help but laugh. “Kevin’s clothes might fit you better but— you’re laughing. Why are— why are you laughing at me.”

“You’re just—” You break into another fit of giggles, covering your mouth with your hand to try and muffle the noise. “God, you’re so dumb.”

“How am I dumb?” Juyeon pouts at you, and you know he just wants you to be comfortable.

“Never mind,” you wave him off, “let’s just get going. I’m tired and wet.” Juyeon raises an eyebrow, and you roll your eyes. “Not like that, stripper boy.”

“I know,” he grins at you and tugs you by the sleeve to get you to start walking. “I just wanted to mess with you a little bit.”

“Seems like that’s all you do.” You roll your eyes. “And please tell me you drove here. I am not walking to the house in shorts and slippers.” Juyeon clicks his tongue.

“As if I would walk anywhere in this weather.” He reaches into his pocket and you hear the click of a button, and then the lights of a car in front of you light up. He jogs forward, grabbing the handle of the passenger side door for you with a bright smile on his face. “After you, m’lady.”

“What a gentleman,” you shut the umbrella and duck into the vehicle.

“Only for you, pretty girl.” He winks at you and shuts the door.

Juyeon is quiet when you exit his bathroom. Your hair is wrapped in a towel, your body swamped in Juyeon’s clothes. He’s lying flat on his back on his mattress, his legs dangling off the edge and his fingers drumming on his stomach. Your feet shuffle against the ground, the fabric of his sweatpants covering your feet entirely and dragging behind you. His t-shirt is almost like a dress on you, hanging down to your thighs and the sleeves baggy along your arms where it would be formfitting on him.

“Where should I put these?” Juyeon lifts his head, and you hear a sharp inhale. He’s staring at you, and the gaze is heavy with something you can’t place.

“You—” his voice cracks and he sits up fully, resting his elbows on his knees. “You can just toss them in the basket next to you. I’ll— I’ll wash it tomorrow.” You hum, doing as he says and tossing your clothing into the basket.

His room is…weirdly clean. At least, it’s cleaner than you expected it to be for a frat boy. There’s a bit of laundry scattered across the room, sure, but you don’t feel gross just standing there. The floor is clean, the bed is made.

The bed.

The one bed in the room.

“Where— where should I set up a spot to sleep?” You wring your hands behind your back.

“What?” Juyeon stares at you dumbly, his eyes blank and jaw dropped slightly. If you look closely, you swear you can see a puddle of drool on the floor in front of him. Unintentionally, you snort and immediately slap a hand over your mouth.

“I just— I mean this is your room, stripper boy.” You shrug, trying to keep the air as light as possible. “Where should I set up camp for the next three days?”

“You are not sleeping on the floor.” Juyeon shakes his head and pushes off the edge of his bed.

“Then where am I gonna sleep?”

“The bed?” He says it as if it’s obvious. “The fuck? You really thought I was gonna make you sleep on the floor?”

“Stripper boy, I am not sleeping in your bed.” You click your tongue.

“Yes, you are, pretty girl.” He takes a step toward you. “I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor! First of all, you’re a guest. Second of all, I’m a gentleman. Third of all, I’m—” he cuts himself short again and you raise an eyebrow.

“Well, then I’ll sleep on the couch downstairs. That’ll solve it.” You move to the door, but he grabs your upper arm and pulls you toward him. “Dude, you have got to stop grabbing me like that. It’s kind of annoying.”

“Sorry.” He exhales and lets go of your arm, brushing his hand across the skin he grabbed as if to soothe it. It sends sparks of heat through your arm, and you fight back a shiver. “I just— what if we share my bed?”

You stare at him for a moment.

Then another.

And then another.

And then Juyeon is wincing and stepping away from you.

“I was just— that was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“I mean…” you purse your lips. “If it solves the problem, then sure.”

“Wait seriously?” His eyes bug out of his head and you laugh. “You’re comfortable with that?”

“Stripper boy, if you thought I was gonna kick you out of your bed, then you have a whole new thing coming.” He rolls his eyes. “We can just…I dunno. Put pillows between us?”

“Yeah, that works. That works just fine.” He sighs heavily. Just fine. He’s gonna be just fine these next few days.

Juyeon realizes very quickly that it will not, in fact, be fine. He realizes this when he wakes up in the middle of the night, the pillows between the two of you thrown to the edge of the bed and your body wrapped around his like a vice. One of your legs is hooked around his, the other strewn across his hip to lock him down. You have one arm tucked under his, holding his shoulder while your free arm has slipped around his waist, under his shirt so your fingers are splayed across his abdomen. Your head is seemingly strategically placed on his chest, and he can feel every breath you release. He can feel every pulse of your heartbeat against his leg—

Wait.

…

Oh, this arrangement is not going to be good for his heart.

He tries desperately to shift away from you, to gently pry you off of him, anything to get the pounding in his chest to go away. Anything to stop the blood from rushing to his dick like some goddamn virgin. It’s a normal thing. It’s not something to get fucking hard over, Lee Juyeon. Pull yourself together.

It feels like ages before he’s able to pull himself free, nearly falling out of his bed to get away from you. He freezes in place when he hears you shift, a quiet moan leaving you when your sleeping self finds the spot Juyeon once lay frozen is now empty. His heart is pounding, his feet padding quickly against the floor to get to his bathroom. He’s quick to shut the door, cringing at the squeak of the hinges. Gotta get those fixed, he notes. For future reference, of course.

He’s hard in his sweats, his dick straining against the fabric, and his body feels like it’s on fire. Juyeon leans against the counter, tapping his foot anxiously while he stares at himself in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed, his hair a mess, and his pupils are blown out. He grips the marble counter, squeezing his eyes shut and praying to god that he softens soon because he cannot and will not jerk off to you. Not when you’re right there, one thin wall over.

Thinking that was a mistake. His dick twitches in his pants at the thought of you waking up and finding him in the bathroom, cock in hand, and frantically trying to rub one out.

Oh, he’s so fucked, he squeezes his eyes shut as he shoves his sweatpants down just enough to be able to grab himself. Just enough for him to spring free and let the cold air wash over him.

Juyeon is completely, royally fucked, and he knows it as he spits on his hand. He knows it when he wraps his hand around his cock. Juyeon knows it when his body shudders from the first pump of his hand, the brush of his thumb across his tip. He knows it when he fights the whine trying to erupt from his throat.

He knows it when he cums in his hand, ropes of white covering his palm when he places his hand over his tip to minimize the mess. He knows it when all he thought about was you. You and your pretty face. You who calls him stripper boy, who hasn't hesitated to shoot him down every chance you get. You who he’s pretty damn sure is into him in the same way he’s into you.

It’s hard for Juyeon to get back in his bed and lie down next to you knowing that just a few minutes ago he came in his hand to the thought of you. It’s even harder for him to fall back to sleep when you wrap yourself around him again, relaxing against his body and releasing a contented sigh. He tries so, so hard to relax with you, to steady his pounding heart.

God, he’s so fucked.

"When did you get here?” There’s a boy— a man, really— standing at the counter when you and Juyeon walk into the kitchen in the morning. The man is holding a ceramic Garfield mug that you assume is filled with coffee, and he’s got his phone in his free hand. You give him a short wave, and he nods back at you.

Juyeon had been odd the whole morning. Or, at least, the two hours you had been awake and the one hour since he’d woken up and immediately rolled to his feet to get away from you. Something about morning wood. Since then, he’d been keeping a healthy distance from you, flinching away from your touch and giving short responses to your questions and statements. It makes you nervous. Were you intruding? Did he regret asking you to stay?

“Last night,” Juyeon answers for you, leading you to the bar counter and pulling out a chair for you to sit in. “Y/N, this is Sangyeon. He’s the Tau Beta Zeta president. Sangyeon, this is Y/N. She’s gonna be staying with us for the next couple of days.”

Sangyeon squints at you, gnawing at his lip in thought.

“And you guys are…what? Friends? Lovers? Fuck buddies?” You scoff and Juyeon whips his head around, nearly spilling coffee onto his hand.

“None of the above,” you wave your hand and almost miss the flash of emotion in Juyeon’s eyes. “Just someone who needed a hand, and strip- Juyeon happened to be there.” Sangyeon turns to Juyeon with an inquisitive look on his face. Juyeon shakes his head and turns back to you with two mugs in his hand.

“I didn’t know how you take your coffee so I just threw some cream and a bit of sugar in there.” The mug he slides over to you is shaped like a ladybug, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you at the sight of his mug. Normal, compared to yours. Just plain white with text that says ‘Stupid people shouldn’t breed!’. “What’s so funny?”

“Just the…interesting arrangement of mugs you all have here.” You smile at Juyeon, but he just scoffs. Sangyeon excuses himself and pats Juyeon on the shoulder before making his exit up the stairs.

“I’ll have you know that I picked these all out.” He defends, but you can see the embarrassment in the flush of his cheeks, the dark color spreading to the tips of his ears. “You got a problem with them?”

“No, no,” you smile into your mug and take a sip. It’s bitter, and a bit watered down, but you’re grateful for the caffeine boost. “It’s cute, really. You made some great choices, stripper boy.”

“That sounded sarcastic,” Juyeon pouts at you and you shake your head.

“It wasn’t!” You reassure him, leaning your torso onto the counter. Juyeon stands near you now, on the shorter edge of the counter and he scoffs.

“Sure it wasn’t. Because you’re the most supportive person in the world of my decisions.” He turns away from you, staring at the magnetic words on the refrigerator instead of at you and you rise from your seat to stand by his side.

“Juyooo,” your voice is sing-song in tone and Juyeon fights every instinct inside of him that screams to pin you to the counter and fuck you senseless. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course I am,” he rolls his eyes and tilts his chin up when you come to stand in front of him.

“Why?” You frown, but the corners of your lips fight to turn up.

“You made fun of me!”

“Yeah, but it was all in good fun!” You protest. “I think your choice of mugs was cute!”

“No you don’t,” he scoffs and crosses his arms. “You think they’re stupid.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I think they’re adorable.”

“Bullshit,” Juyeon says. “You think they’re stupid.”

“I do not.” You groan.

“You do!”

“Do not!”

“Do too!”

“Do no—”

Juyeon’s lips are on yours, and you let out a startled gasp, your hand flying up and finding purchase on his chest.

You try to push him off, you really do! You think about it, you tell your body to push him off, and then somehow you end up pulling him closer, allowing your eyes to slip closed. Isn’t it so weird how that happens?

Your hand is holding his shirt tightly, keeping him close to you while your lips mesh in a sloppy kiss. His lips are rough against yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip and then his tongue slips out and soothes the bites. The repeated actions have your legs trembling, your breathing becoming shaky, and your hand that isn’t in his shirt rises to the back of his neck to tangle in his hair and pull him impossibly closer to you.

His hands are all over you. They run up and down your waist, brushing under the waistband of the sweatpants he lent you, pushing into your back to keep you close to him. They run under your shirt, grazing the underside of your shirt, and he smiles when he feels you exhale shakily against him.

You hesitantly, and ever so slowly, push your tongue out, letting it run across his lower lip and you’re a bit too pleased when he opens up for you immediately. He lets you push your tongue into his mouth, lets you explore, and is ever so patient with your hesitance.

Gently, oh so gently, he sucks on your tongue while you try to pull it back into your mouth and you release the tiniest, almost inaudible whine.

Apparently, to your complete dismay, this snaps Juyeon back into reality and he pulls away from you. He pulls away quickly, almost stumbling back and into some of the bar stools. You’re standing there, almost in a daze, and both of you just stare at each other for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you, and Juyeon can tell that you’re regretting what the two of you just did.

And it hurts. It really hurts when you open your mouth, going to speak and nothing comes out. He smiles sadly.

“I should find a way to get to the store. You’re gonna need some clothes for the next few days.”

“Juyeon, wait—” You reach for him, but he just shakes his head.

“It’s fine, pretty girl.” He reassures you, but his voice breaks and betrays him. “No hard feelings. Let’s just forget it happened.”

“I don’t want to forget that!” You protest, but Juyeon just shakes his head.

“Like I said, pretty girl,” He grabs his mug and smiles at you. There’s no emotion behind it, at least not one that you want to recognize. “We gotta get you some clothes for the next three days.”

It’s infuriating how quickly he seems to move on. Three days pass by, and not once has he even hinted about talking about what happened. It was almost like he’d forgotten about it entirely.

Which, to your dismay, was exactly what he wanted you to do. It wasn’t as if you regretted the kiss, at least not in the way he thought. The regret that you knew you had let slip was from pulling away in the first place. You had only meant to come up for air, knowing that you would likely drown in him had you given yourself the chance. Now, due to your own stupid mistakes, the tables have turned for you.

He’d been avoiding you since you moved back into your apartment two days ago. He’d avoided you in the classes you were now all too aware that you shared. It stung that he no longer sought you out, no longer yelled your name from across the room, and drew unwanted attention to you. He no longer pressured you to call the number on that damn flier that sat untouched on your desk.

“You could always just, I dunno,” Chanhee is lying on your bed, scrolling on his phone while you rant about his frat brother. “Call the number? I’m pretty sure it’s his number anyway.”

“Wait seriously?” You spin around in your desk chair, turning away from the project you two are supposed to be working on together.

“Yeah, it just happened to be really convenient that the last four digits of his phone number spelled junk. What do you think of this?” He flips his phone around to show you a coat. A black trench coat, nothing too fancy about it.

“Eh. You have plenty of those, don’t you?”

“True.” He nods and lays back down.

“Should I really call him?” You lean your head back on your chair, lacing your fingers together on your lap. “What if he hates me, Chanhee?”

“Trust me, Y/N,” Chanhee exhales heavily, “that man does not hate you.”

“But how do you know that?” You ask. “If he told you that, he could be lying to you!”

“Girl,” Chanhee throws his phone down onto your mattress and sits up straight. “If a man hates you, he is not going to jack off at 3 in the goddamn morning— with his frat brothers in the other room that connects to his bathroom, mind you— to the thought of you. Trust me. He doesn’t hate you.”

“You don’t— I’m sorry, what?” Your eyes are bugging out of your head and Chanhee grimaces in a way that tells you that he was not supposed to tell you that.

“Oops…”

“What do you mean he— Chanhee, what are you talking about?” Chanhee is already rising from your bed, grabbing his laptop, and sliding his shoes on.

“I think it’s time for me to get out of here,” he tells you with a tight smile on his face. He comes toward you though, holding the flier in his hand. “But, I really think you should call this number. Could really help you both, I think.”

When the door shuts behind your classmate, you sit in silence for a moment. A few moments, really, just holding the first flier that Juyeon ever gave you in your hand. There’s a little bit of water damage from the flooding, but the number in the middle of the page is still there. It’s almost ironic that Juyeon’s phone number is the only part of the advertisement that isn’t ruined, like something was telling you that you needed to call Juyeon.

Your phone rings once, then twice, and you hear the line click on the other side.

“Thank you for calling College Hunks, what junk can we haul for you today?”

It takes Juyeon a little over an hour to get to your apartment. By that point, you’d gathered anything that you didn’t want into trash bags and set them in your living room. Each bag is organized to an extent. Things to be recycled, to be donated, or just thrown away. Most of the items that needed to be thrown away were damaged when your apartment building flooded, each damaged beyond repair. Almost like fate, isn’t it?

There’s a knock on your door. One, two, three. Your hands are shaking a bit when you grab the door handle. One, two, th—

You practically rip the door open before Juyeon can finish knocking. He’s standing there, wide-eyed with his mouth hanging open. The outfit he’s wearing is the same as the day he first showed up at your door. White tank top, cargo pants, and some worn-out sneakers. For once, his hair isn’t styled. He’s parted it down the middle, a little bit of gel used to keep it from falling into his face too much.

“Hi,” you breathe out. It’s like Juyeon is stuck in a trance, his hand still frozen mid-knock and his mouth opening and closing like a damn fish. “You— do you want to come in?” Juyeon blinks.

“Uh…yeah, yeah sure.” You step to the side, allowing him to walk into your apartment. It’s awkward, to say the least. When you shut your door, the click makes both of you flinch and suddenly you’ve forgotten everything that you wanted to say to him.

“Is this—” Juyeon’s voice cracks a little bit, and he turns to face you but he doesn’t look you in the eye. “Is this everything?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “yeah it is. Needed to get rid of some stuff after the building flooded, you know?” You laugh, but he doesn’t and you’re quick to shut your mouth. Say something, dammit. Anything. Your mind is screaming, whether at you or Juyeon you aren’t entirely sure. “Juyeon, can we ta—”

“I should get started then,” he cuts you off and you grimace. “Got a couple of appointments today, so I can’t linger for long.”

“Right…” your voice trails off. “Yeah, I’ll get out of your way then.”

Plan A is a bust, then.

Juyeon moves quickly. You don’t know if it’s work ethic or if he wants to get away from you as fast as possible, but it stings. You don’t say anything to each other the whole time, not that you staying in your bedroom the whole time did anything to help the situation. You can hear him moving around, carrying bag after bag down to his car, but not once does he come to talk to you. Not even about the junk he’s carrying out.

Your forehead is against your desk, your eyes shut tightly as you try to block out the noise, knowing that he’ll be carrying out the last bag soon. The sound of your feet tapping on the ground is almost enough to drown out Juyeon, but not quite enough to drown out the knocking at your bedroom door.

Your head snaps up, and you spin around to face Juyeon.

“Hi,” he gives you a tight smile. “I just— I brought out the last bag so I guess— I guess I should go, huh?”

Don’t, you want to tell him, don’t leave yet.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You stand up and clear your throat. “Here, what’s your Venmo? I can send you some money.”

Juyeon shakes his head. “I already told you that you don’t have to pay me.”

“Yeah, you did,” you agree. “But I’d feel bad if I let you leave empty-handed.”

“I’m not leaving emptyhanded, though!” He argues. “I have your junk! Which, surprisingly, all fit into the trunk of my car.”

“Go you,” you cheer halfheartedly. “That’s not gonna stop me from paying you.”

“Pretty girl,” he warns. “I’m not gonna let you pay me.”

“Then I’ll get Chanhee to tell me your Venmo.” You grin and Juyeon rolls his eyes.

“You’re not gonna let this go, will you?”

“Nope,” you let the sound of the p pop when you say it and Juyeon lets out a dry laugh.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that right?”

“That’s the plan.” you look at him, and this time he’s looking right back at you. The awkward air has cleared, and it almost feels normal. Like it was prior to the kiss. God, please let Plan B work. “Are you gonna tell me what your account is, or am I gonna have to find some other way to pay you?”

There’s a spark of something in Juyeon’s eyes, and his eyebrows knit together. Please get it, please get it, please get it. C’mon Juyeon, don’t be dense.

“Some other way?” He echoes, and you mentally cheer when he steps toward you.

“Mhm!” You bob your head. “Like you said, there are other ways to pay you, aren’t there?”

He’s right in front of you now, and you swear you see him start to reach for you before he’s forcing his hands back down to his sides.

“You’re not—” he inhales and squeezes his eyes shut. “Please tell me I’m not misinterpreting this.”

“Depends on what you think I’m saying.” You smirk, and Juyeon starts to lean down, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips.

“What I think you’re offering,” he speaks slowly and you can feel his breath on your lips. “Is not exactly…appropriate, pretty girl.”

“And I think you’re right.” You’re practically whispering, every movement from your mouth causes your lips to brush against his and you’re so close to caving and just yanking him down to crush his lips against yours.

Thankfully, Juyeon moves fast and he’s grabbing you by the waist to yank you to him and your hands are in his hair by the time his lips are on your.

This kiss is heavier than the first. It’s messier and sloppier and his tongue is in your mouth, pushing at yours and licking at every nook and cranny that he can reach. You walk him backward to your bed. You don’t separate your mouths, not when you push him down onto your mattress, not when you sit on his lap with your legs on either side of him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little crescents indented into his skin.

Juyeon groans at the stinging feeling, sliding his hands under your shirt and gently pushing it up. He does it slowly, giving you time to stop him, but you get impatient and shove him back until he’s lying down. His hands are still on your waist, and he’s watching with a hazy gaze as you lift your shirt over your head and throw it somewhere across the room.

“Shit, pretty girl,” he breathes out and tries to slide his hands up to your chest. You’re smirking when you slap his hands away.

“No touching yet,” you tell him and he groans in response.

“You can’t just do this and not let me touch you!” He whines. “It’s not fair!”

“You should’ve thought about that before you ignored me for a week,” you retort and he falls silent. “It’s fine, though. I’ll just get you back with this.” Your hands reach behind your back and you swiftly unclip your bra and throw that in the direction you’d thrown your shirt in. Juyeon’s hands lurch up to touch you again but you’re faster, grabbing his wrists and pinning them down to his sides with a click of your tongue.

“Y/N please,” Juyeon begs, his breath hitching in his throat when you leave him completely, and he can only watch as you unbutton your jeans and tug the rest of your clothing off. He’s practically drooling as he sits up, watching you undress for him. He watches you walk to your dresser, digging through your drawers for a moment before returning with a long piece of silk. “Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking joking.”

You laugh at his reaction and toss the silk onto the mattress behind him.

“Why would I be joking, Juyeon?” You stand between his legs, and you grin when he doesn’t even try to touch you this time. You can see the tent in his cargo pants and let your hands trace up and down his thighs. “Take off your shirt for me?”

There’s a dangerous look in your eye, one that Juyeon can’t find himself wanting to disobey and he’s lifting his shirt over his head without a second thought. Your eyes widen ever so slightly and Juyeon can’t help but smirk. He knows he’s attractive, knows that his body catches people’s attention and he’s proud of that.

With you, however, there’s something different about how you look at him. Something primal, like a predator looking at her prey and he shifts in his spot.

“Pants too.” He nods and rises to his feet again, tensing when you raise your hands. “What are you stopping for? Get moving, don’t you have other appointments to get to?” Your hands are tracing the lines of his abs, feeling the way he flinches at your touch. You continue to trace his body as he bends down to lower his pants and boxers to the ground. Your hands raise to the backs of his shoulders, to the back of his neck, and let them slip down to his pecs when he stands straight again.

You almost let yourself falter when you see his cock for the first time. It’s big, bigger than any you’ve taken in the past, and you can’t help but imagine what he’d looked like when he was thinking of you. Did he look as messy as he does now, eyes practically crazed, his breathing labored as he fisted himself? Did he watch himself in the mirror, imagining it was your hand instead of his own?

“So pretty, baby.” You breathe out, letting your hand drop down to wrap around his cock. He sucks in a breath, letting it out when he whines at the feeling of you running your hand up and down, squeezing at the base, and rubbing your thumb along the tip. “So pretty.”

You push him back again, releasing him from your grasp and following him as he slides up your bed. You take the silk in your hand, gesturing for him to put his hands above his head, tying the silk tightly around his wrists so he can’t get loose. Juyeon lets out another broken whine when you straddle him, running your fingers over your core and gathering the wetness on your fingers. You allow yourself to moan quietly, gauging Juyeon’s reaction to you touching yourself. He’s staring with his mouth hanging open, his cock twitching against his abdomen as he watches you sink two fingers into your core. He whines when your body shudders against him, when you curl your fingers up into you.

“Is this what you think about, Juyeon?” You try your best to keep your voice steady when you speak. “Do you think about this when you touch yourself? When you lock yourself in the bathroom, jacking off to the thought of me like some little virgin?” He doesn’t respond, too lost in the sight of you riding your own hand.

He doesn’t see you reach your free hand up, gasping when he feels you squeeze your fingers around his throat. Not too tightly, but enough to get his attention back on you.

“I asked you a question, baby.” You pull your fingers out of your dripping pussy, gazing at the arousal covering your hand and humming in thought. “I guess I should give a reason to not answer, shouldn’t I?”

“Please,” Juyeon whispers out, and you smile when you raise your fingers to his mouth.

“Go on then,” you tell him, “suck.”

His head lurches forward, taking your fingers into his mouth and moaning at the taste of you. He runs his tongue along your fingers, and you inhale sharply, your eyelids drooping when he tries to open his eyes, trying to watch and gauge your reaction.

“Cleanin’ me up good, hm?” You pull your fingers from his mouth and Juyeon takes this time to catch his breath, to gather himself. You don’t give him long though, no more than a few moments before you’re grabbing his cock in your dainty hand and lining it up with your pussy.

“Fuck,” Juyeon throws his head back, his hands curling into fists, and groaning as you sink down on him. Your walls are squeezing so tightly around him, and he knows it has to be a stretch for you but you act as if it was nothing for you, as if he didn’t hit that sweet spot inside of you just by you sinking down on him. You let your eyes drift shut, fighting back the urge to start riding him until he has nothing left to give you. You can feel him twitching inside of you, knowing that he’s close just from your warm walls squeezing around him. “Fuck, pretty girl, please.”

“Please what, baby?” You coo, the hand on his throat squeezing gently. He whines and you grin. “Use those words, pretty boy. You can do it.”

“Let me fuck you,” he gasps out and you let out a yelp when he thrusts his hips up and sends you falling over his body.

Your breasts are in his face now, and he doesn’t give you the chance to do anything before he’s bringing his arms down and trapping you against him as best he can. He thrusts his hips up, driving his cock into you at a pace that you couldn’t keep up with if you tried. He reaches his head up, his teeth latching onto one of your nipples and practically forcing you to follow him as he brings his head back down. Juyeon sucks at your breast, pinning your chest against his face with his arms that he’s brought to rest between your shoulder blades. Every one of his thrusts sends you up his body, but he does his damn best to keep you in place, sucking and licking and biting at both of your tits, groaning every time your cunt clenches around him.

You feel like you can’t breathe, the air being punched out of you in broken moans and pitched whines. Juyeon is in about the same state as you, the noises he’s letting out are louder than yours, more frequent, and it brings a fresh wave of arousal washing over you.

“Are you close, pretty boy?” You gasp out. “Gonna— gonna cum for me?”

“Fuck, yes,” He throws his head back, his hips stuttering against yours. You bring one of your hands down to your clit, rubbing furious circles into it, letting your walls flutter around him and drawing both of you closer to your orgasms.

When you cum, it has you seeing stars. Your orgasm has you crying out his name, has you clenching around him so tightly that he’s finishing not long after you. You sink your body back, rolling your hips gently over his and placing a firm kiss on his lips. Your tongue pushes into his mouth, swallowing the sounds he makes as he pumps white hot cum into your core. It’s less of a kiss this time, though, and more teeth gnashing together and biting at each other’s lips.

His hips slow down after a minute or two, and you let your body relax against his, reaching up to untie the silk around his wrists.

“Fucking finally,” he groans and lets his hands roam your sweaty body. “Thought I was gonna die if you kept me tied up any longer.” You laugh, letting your head drop to his chest.

“That’s what you get for making me wait.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he rolls his eyes at you. “And you called me a try-hard.”

“Because you are, Juyeon.” You roll off of him, staring at your ceiling while you lay next to him on your mattress.

“Whatever you say, pretty girl,” he rolls his head to look at you with a cheeky grin on his face.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Your eyebrows knit together. He just keeps smiling. “What, stripper boy.”

“You know what all this means, right?” You shrug.

“That I have to go to all your parties now or you’re gonna hunt me down?” He laughs and you smile a bit.

“That, and I get to call you my girlfriend.”

“I never agreed to that.” You deny, turning on your side and facing him fully.

“Sure you did! It was at the very bottom of the flier I gave you.” He tells you.

“No, it wasn’t.” You frown.

“Yeah, it was!” He sits up, reaching for the second flier he gave you that had been placed on your bedside table. “See? Right there at the bottom in tiny font that I knew you wouldn’t pay attention to!” You squint at the words he’s pointing at and let out a scoff.

“Seriously, stripper boy? If your name is Y/N L/N and you redeem this offer, you are legally obligated to become Lee Juyeon’s boyfriend, whether you like it or not. Xoxo.” You push the paper back into his hands. "When did you even put this on there? We hardly knew each other when you gave me this flier."

“I told you!” He beams and lays back down. “You’re my girlfriend now.”

"Cute, but that doesn't answer my question, stripper boy." He digs his fingers into your side, pulling you closer to him, and grins.

"Does it matter?"

"I mean...I guess not?"

"Exactly."

“Does this mean that when we break up, I get half of all your assets?” He glares at you playfully.

“Fuck, no.”

“Damn…” you sigh and lay down with your head on his chest. “I guess I’ll have to put up with you for life then, huh?”

“Mhm.” He cards his hands through your hair, gently combing through the knots. “You excited to spend the next 75 years with me, girlfriend?”

“Not at all, boyfriend.”

“Yes, you are.”

“…Try-hard.”

1K notes · View notes

sohnric · 3 months

Text

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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marksmelodies · 5 months

Text

forever only

idol eric x fem reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: suggestive, mentions of sex, unprotected sex, lots of kissing

note: if you haven’t watched eric’s LA vlog on theboyz youtube channel you definitely should before reading this since it’s heavily based on that!

minors dni

—————————————————————————

walking out of your apartment in los angeles you head to your favorite cafe down the street, walking through the door hearing the bell chime as you enter, you order your coffee and sit at a table finishing up some work for college. fall semester just started and it was always the most stressful but this time around you didn’t sign up for many classes making the workload a lot easier to handle

you could finally focus on dance a little more which is your passion ever since you could walk your parents put you in dance and you absolutely flourished. now a college student you spend most of your time teaching dance classes, mostly hip hop because that was more of your style

as you work on your computer with your headphones on you hear a text message notification go off, ignoring it you continue with your work, until it goes off again, you check your phone to see a message from an unknown number

unknown #: hey y/n, it’s been a long time, i hope you’re doing well! i just wanted to let you know that i will be in LA for a few days this week with my group, if you aren’t busy tomorrow, i’m having a get together with miles at my place to meet my members you should come too

unknown #: oh this is eric by the way

your heart immediately drops as a state of nausea washes over your body “ god damn it miles” you cuss under your breath as you call him

“ yo what’s up” he answers the phone

“ you’ve got to be kidding me” you sigh

“ what’s wrong with you?” he asks

“ what’s wrong with me? oh i don’t know maybe what’s wrong with me is i just got a text from eric.. eric sohn” you whisper yell over the phone as you exit the cafe to get some fresh air

“ oh yeah i gave him your number” he laughs

“ why, why would you do that” you yell

“ he asked about you, he wants to see you again y/n” miles sighs

“ i don’t understand why you would give him my phone number after the whole reason why i got a new one was to avoid him”

“ listen y/n it’s been years, don’t you think it’s time to see him again, he asks about you all the time and i’m tired of making up excuses to why you avoid him, he hasn’t been back to los angeles since he left freshman year and the first thing he asked me is if he can possibly see you again while he’s here” miles says

you feel the tears begin to pull from your eyes

“ it’s just really hard for me miles, you don’t think i want to see him too? i want nothing more than to see him again, to see how far he’s come, but i don’t know if my heart is ready for that”

“ i know, but it’s been years maybe it’s time to truly move on and hopefully seeing him can give you enough closure to do so” he says

“ yeah maybe your right” a long pause comes from you before you speak again

“ i’ll go tomorrow” you say

“ good, i’m glad to hear that, everything will be okay i promise” he says, after hanging up the phone you walk back into the cafe packing up your stuff and heading back home,as you sit on the bed looking at the message eric sent you finally get the courage to respond

“ sounds great i’ll be there” you text back before shutting your phone off

you and eric met in middle school, he was popular due to his talent in baseball, all the girls obsessed over him, not you though at least not at first,you had biology class together and eventually got assigned to do a project with one another, after that you two became inseparable, eric introduced you to your now best friend miles and the three of you became the friend group that everyone wanted to be apart of

as time went on you started to have a little crush on eric, that crush only got bigger and bigger as you two got older, eric felt the same way about you, although eric had been in total awe the second he laid his eyes on you for the first time, the more he got to know you the more he fell in love, the summer going into your eighth grade year eric confessed his feelings to you and you confessed back

your relationship with eric was very lighthearted, a simple middle school fling, acting the same way towards eachother as you did when you were just friends maybe with the benefit of hand holding but that was it, to everyone’s surprise you both made it over a year which was super long for a middle school relationship, but you and eric were truly in love and a lot of people underestimated your feelings for each other

you remember the day that eric told you he was leaving to move to korea to pursue his dreams , you were heartbroken but being the supportive person you were you didn’t let him see how sad you were about it, you gave him all the best wishes and the two of you split up on good terms, you both knew it was impossible to continue this relationship when you would be across the world from each other

that wasn’t the last time you saw eric though, once you became a senior in high school you and your dance team got invited to a dance workshop in seoul south korea, of course the universe just had to mess with you because during your trip you ran into him while visiting the han river late one night, one thing led to another and you ended up hooking up with him that night.. and the next morning…in full retrospect the intimate moments you shared with him during that trip was amazing but after you left it made you feel like shit, you kept in contact with eachother for a few months after you saw him but eventually the text messages became less frequent and then just stopped all together, it was your own fault letting him break your heart for the second time, you got your own hopes up, you couldn’t blame him for his inconsistency, you saw how busy his life had become, how hard he worked everyday without a break.

but selfishly you wished sometimes that he would have stayed in LA, become a college student like yourself and the two of you could be together again, maybe even be on the road to getting married and building a life together, you knew that was never in the cards for him, he was meant to be an idol there was no doubt about it but every so often you find yourself thinking about an alternate reality, one where the two of you could be together for good

that night was rough on you, tossing and turning over all the possibilities that could come out of the events of tomorrow, being honest with yourself you don’t even know how you’re going to look him in the eyes without falling in love with him all over again. as if you got over him in the first place, which newsflash.. you never did

waking up in the morning was hard, your alarm blared in your ears as you crawled out of bed. you spent most of the day mentally preparing yourself to see eric again, miles had arrived not too long ago as you were getting yourself ready

“ does this look too slutty” you say doing a turn in your bikini for your best friend

“ no you look good, hurry up though we’re going to be late” he says. quickly throwing on a minidress as a coverup you both leave your place as you head over to eric’s house

“ are you nervous” miles asks noticing your leg shaking up and down as you sit in the passenger seat

“ yeah i am, i feel like im going to throw up everywhere” you respond, finally pulling up to eric’s place you can hear the music playing and some faint yelling coming from the pool

getting out of the car you walk through the back gates to the pool area, standing behind miles trying to shield yourself from the sight of eric. that didn’t work “ miles, y/n, over here” eric waved the two of you down

walking over to the big canopy and a large table filled with a ton of korean dishes you finally stand there in front of eric for the first time in a long time, eric walks up to miles dabbing him up and then turning to you, he smiles at you pulling you into a hug “ im glad you made it y/n it means a lot that you’re here” he says

his familiar scent fills your nostrils causing you to gain a wave of nostalgia, pulling away you flash a tight lipped smile at him. “ guys this is my best friend miles and this is my friend y/n” eric says hesitating on the word friend, his members all smile and wave as you both do the same back

you sit next to miles during dinner, thankfully eric is across the table filming a vlog for the groups youtube channel, once dinner was finished everyone decided to go swimming

setting your stuff down on a chair you begin to take your dress off leaving you in nothing but a tiny bikini, you felt eyes on you, turning around eric’s eyes met yours before he turned away quickly trying not to make it obvious that he was staring at you

“ hey” eric walks up to you “ hey” you respond back looking to the ground “ im sorry if it’s awkward seeing me again” he says itching the back of his neck

“ no it’s fine it’s not awkward” you say completely lying. “ i missed having you around you know” eric says looking into your eyes “ yeah i missed you too” you say as you feel your heart beating out of your chest

he looked so good with nothing but his swim trunks on, his toned upper body out for display. “ let’s go in the pool yeah?” he asks

“ yeah i just have to put my hair up” you say to him as he gives you a look

“ you never changed have you” he laughs “ you’re going to get your hair wet regardless” he rolls his eyes at you

“ fine whatever” you say leaving your hair down

you walk with him to the deep end of the pool, everyone is already in but the two of you, “okay let’s jump in together on the count of three ready..one.. two… three..” eric counts, you had planned to pretend to jump in that way eric would have been the only one to actually jump but eric had the same idea as you

you both laugh as eric approaches you “ no eric don’t” you yell before he pushes you into the pool

quickly swimming up to the surface of the water you put your hand out to eric “ what the hell eric, at least help me out” you yell as eric grabs your hand. before he could pull you up you yank your arm back pulling him into the water with you

“ i should’ve saw that coming” he says laughing

“ i can’t believe you fell for that” you laugh

joining the others in a game of water spikeball miles makes eye contact with you smirking as you and eric continuously flirt with each other

“ that was a point” you yell to eric

“no it wasn’t” he yells back

“ yes it was” you splash water on him, he walks closer to you splashing you back before picking you up, eric lifts you up throwing you into the water, he swims over to you as you splash water in his face one last time “ that was mean” you say to him

he tucks a strand of lose hair behind your ear “so pretty” he whispers, the two of you now inches away from each other, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him right then and there but before anything could happen one of eric’s members yells for him to come join in the game again

eventually you get out of the pool, feeling tired from the continuous swim races that eric challenged you to even though you beat him every time. eric approached you sitting on one of the chairs “ come back in” he whines

“ no i’m tired of swimming” you say looking up at him “please y/n i’ll carry you” he says. you nod your head yes, knowing you could never say no to him “ sure” you say walking to the steps of the pool

all the guys had gotten out and were now inside the house talking to eachother, leaving just you and eric alone together in the pool. it had gotten dark, the sun was long gone, the pool light shined as you swam over to eric wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, he looks down at you smiling as he places one of his arms around your waist and the other on your ass to hold you up, you knew it was wrong, you knew that you shouldn’t be doing this but when it came to eric all of your sense left your brain and you begin to think with your heart instead

you lay your head on his shoulder as he carries you to the deep end sitting down on the ledge “ i meant what i said earlier, i really missed you pretty girl” eric whispers

“ i meant when i said i missed you too” you say lightly kissing the side of his neck. he rubs his hand up and down your back as the other rubs your thigh, taking your head off of his shoulder looking up at him, both of your eyes locking , you feel butterflies in your stomach as eric moves closer and closer until finally his lips are on yours

the kiss was passionate, you both had been waiting for this moment for a long time, he moves in closer holding the side of your face as one of your hand reaches into his hair while the other is pressed against his chest, you softly moan into the kiss as eric moves your bottoms to the side before entering his finger into your pussy without breaking the kiss

“ fuck eric” you moan noticing his eyes are now darker than they were before “ you’re so tight baby, when’s the last time you had sex” he asks kissing your neck “ the last time was with you” you say looking at him, eric smiles at the thought of no one else fucking you but him

he enters another finger into you causing you to moan loudly before eric covers your mouth with his other hand “ shh babygirl they can still hear you over the music, you don’t want anyone to hear us do you?” he says as he fucks you with his fingers “ fuck eric i’m gonna cum” you whine, he stops thrusting his fingers in you “ fuck yourself on my fingers baby” he says kissing your head, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten as you ride his fingers “ cum for me love” eric says, you throw your head back letting yourself ride out your climax releasing onto his fingers, you moan as your body begins to shake “ good girl” eric kisses your lips once again before letting you catch your breath as he fixes your bathing suit

getting out of the pool you notice eric’s dick poking out of his pants “ i feel bad let me help you” you say as he looks down at you “ i’ll be okay for now, i think somone will come looking for us if we’re out here any longer” he chuckles palming his boner

the sliding glass door opens “ hey we’re going start up a game of football if you wanna join” miles says poking his out of the door “ okay we’ll be right there” eric responds drying himself off as you do the same

sitting in the grass you watch majority of the guys play football, kevin and jacob walk up next to you as you invite them to sit down “ im finally meeting the girl eric won’t ever shut up about” kevin says looking to you

“ really he talks about me?” you ask

“ literally all the time” jacob responds

it goes quiet for a moment before kevin speaks again “ the two of you have chemistry you know?” he says. “ yeah we all could sense it the moment you got here” jacob adds

you sigh “ yeah that’s how it is with eric and i, no matter how long we go without talking to each other the moment we’re together we act as if we’re magnets constantly gravitating towards one another”

“ i haven’t seen eric this happy in a while” jacob states

“ yeah i’ve never seen him so in love” kevin says

“ you think he’s still in love with me?” you ask

“ oh we know he’s still in love with you” they both reassure you

“ i never stopped loving him you know, i did everything to avoid him, to stop thinking about him and look where it led me” you laugh looking over at eric who was running with the football in his hands

“ i think you should tell him that, he’s been beating himself up a lot about still being hooked on you all these years later” jacob says quickly stopping the conversation as eric approaches you

he sits down next to you pulling you into a hug “ ew eric get off of me your all sweaty” you yell pushing him off of you as he laughs hysterically, kevin and jacob smile at the sight of you both as you get up running away from eric as he tries to wipe his sweat on you. eventually capturing you in his arms eric throws you over his shoulder as you kick and scream pleading him to let you down

you are now all in front of the big tv everyone spread across the living room watching a horror movie, eric laid behind you on the couch as his arms wrapped around your waist, legs tangled together, at this point everyone had caught on that you and eric weren’t just “friends” miles smiles at the two of you cuddled on the couch. throughout the movie you and eric scream every so often hugging eachother tightly, everyone laughing at how scared you two are. as the move comes to an end eric moves closer to your face “ spend the night” eric whispers into your ear, “ okay” you say turning around placing a soft kiss to his lips

everyone except eric says goodbye to you and miles before leaving to go back to their hotel “ you ready to head out” miles asks you, you look at him before speaking “ um actually i think im gonna spend the night here with eric” you say to him, he lets out a big sigh before speaking again “ you know what’s going to happen if you do that right?” he asks as you nod your head yes

“ are you okay with having sex with him and then being thousands of miles away from each other again when he leaves, look i’m not going to tell you what to do with your life but this is exactly what happened last time” miles says

“ i don’t know what to tell you miles, im in love with him, im going to have alot more regret if i don’t spend every minute that i can with him before he leaves” you tell him. he pulls you into a hug “ you know i just care about you” he says before walking over to say his goodbyes to eric

“ i need to shower i feel gross” you say as he laughs bringing you up to his room, you and eric both shower together, it wasn’t in a sexual way but more of a romantic moment between to two of you, his hands roam your body as he washes your hair giving you kisses here and there as you do the same to him

as the two of you get out and dry off you feel eric’s naked body hug you from behind, his hard cock poking your back while he kisses your neck as you watch him in the mirror, feeling the warmth between your legs you can tell you’re getting wet for him “ i need you” you moan

that was all he needed to hear before picking you up and throwing you on the bed, leaning over you he hooks his mouth to one of your boobs while playing with the other, leaving open mouth kisses to your body, you trace his abs as you look into his eyes letting him know that you’re growing impatient, eric chuckles before kissing your lips, after spreading your legs eric drags his tip over your clit a few times causing you to whimper before lining his cock up with you as he slowly sides himself into your hole

“ oh my god eric” you choke out, as he stays still for a moment letting you get used to his size “ you’re so tight love” he says before slowly thrusting into you “ faster” you moan clawing at his back, eric brings one hand up to your neck while the other one grips your waist as he rams himself into you“ fuck baby you’re so wet for me” he grunts

turning you over leaving you on all fours arching your back for him, he grabs a handful of your hair before ramming into you once again causing you to scream when he hits your g spot “ you’re taking me so well babygirl, i’m so proud of you” he says as grab onto the sheets tears streaming down your face“ i’m coming” you moan as you squeeze around him, your hips shake repeatedly hinting that you had finished, “ good girl” he says flipping you around again once again placing your legs in his shoulders as he chases his own high, squeezing around him once again his thrusts become sloppy and rushed as he whimpers “ shit i’m coming” he says looking to you “ oh fuckkkk” he says moaning as you feel warm strings of him cum shoot into you, he stays inside of you as he wipes away your tears giving you multiple pecks on the lips “ you did so well for me baby, made me feel so good” he says pulling out of you watching his cum leak from your pussy as he used his fingers to push it back in causing moans to slip out form your mouth

the two of you weren’t even close to being done for the night, you went multiple rounds from having you on top riding him to him eating you out and then fucking you in front of the bathroom mirror, you both went at it, making up for lost time

the last round however was different, seeing you so fucked out made eric want to do nothing but be gentle with you, he layed you down on your stomach as he laid on top of you slowly thrusting into your pussy as he played with your hair, kissing on your shoulders “ as much as i love fucking you until you can’t walk nothing will ever beat making love to you” he whispers in your ear as you arch your back a little bit still lying down, his hands roam your body as he praises you “ you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever laid my eyes on” he carefully turns you over to look at your face

you wrap your legs around his torso as your hands play with his hair slowly and gently moving his length in and out of you“ i love you so much y/n” he says caressing your cheek, you look up at him “ i love you too eric” you say as he leans in to kiss you gently

after he came in you for the last time he cleaned you up putting the covers over your body before getting in bed with you, scooping you up into his arms he places a kiss on your forehead while gently rubbing your back “ eric?” you mumble into his chest “ yes sweet girl?”

“ did you mean what you said earlier about loving me” you ask looking up at him, he smiled before kissing your lips “ of course i did, i’ve loved you since i first laid my eyes on you, and i never stopped” he said raking his hands through your hair, you smile at his answer “ good because i never stopped loving you either”

a silence washed over the both of you until you spoke again “ eric?” you ask once more he chuckles at you “ yes sweet girl” repeats himself you stop and think about the question you’re going to ask “ is this the last time we’re going to see each other” your voice begins to tremble as your tears begin to fall onto his naked chest

“ oh sweetheart come here” he says pulling you up more so that your head in is in the crook of his neck as he rubs your back, “ look at me” he says as you sit up, eric places both of his hands on your cheeks wiping away your tears

“ i promise to do everything in my power to make sure that we see eachother a lot more often” he says before pulling you back into his chest as you begin to cry harder, “ i just never want to repeat what happened last time” you say trying to calm yourself down “ it won’t i’ll make sure of it” he says

“ im so sorry i stopped answering your calls and your messages, i just felt like i was holding you back on so many levels,i never wanted you to hold you back from finding love with someone who would be there for you way more than i could’ve” eric feels his eyes build up with tears, trying his best to hold them back, but he couldn’t causing him to break down, you lift your head up off of his chest when you feel eric’s body shake with his sobs

“ oh my god eric” you coo, the sight of the boy you had known since you were fourteen breaking down in front of you made you sob again along with him

eric had always been an emotional person, but around you he never showed that side of himself, for all the years of knowing you he was always the one wiping your tears not the other way around

you sit up placing his head to your chest letting him sob in the crook of your neck this this time. “ i don’t want to lose you again, i don’t think i can handle it this time” he says in between sobs. “ you won’t lose me eric i promise, if i start taking online courses for school i can visit you all the time and once i get my degree we can talk about me moving to korea” his head shoots up off of your chest “ y/n i cant ask you to leave everything and everyone you love behind just for me” he says, you shush him “ you’re not asking, i’m offering, eric i would move anywhere if it meant i get to be with you”

“ you would do that for me, leave everything you’ve ever know behind, move somewhere completely different on the other side of the world.. just for me” he asks. you chuckle at him before kissing his lips that taste like salt due to his tears

“ i would do it in a heartbeat” you say. as the two of you calmed down you lay back on his chest staring at the ceiling “ have you ever thought about our future together, like getting married and having kids” you ask looking to him, he looks down at you “ i think about it a lot actually, i think about how i would propose and what our wedding would be like, how beautiful you would look walking down the isle in your white dress, i think about how sexy you would be with the baby i put in your belly, how hot you would look waddling around pregnant with our child, you would make a hot mom by the way” he laughs

“ how about you? do you think about our future?” he asks raising his eyebrow “all the time, i think about marrying you a lot more than id like to admit, i think about having kids with you, i even think about you doing the sexy dad walk out of the hospital with our baby” you laugh

“ i promise one day we’ll get to experience all of that together”eric says before placing another kiss to your lips, he pauses before opening his mouth again to speak

“will you be my girlfriend again, this time for good” eric asks

“of course my love, i would love nothing more” you reply giving him one last kiss

“ goodnight i love you so much y/n”

“ goodnight eric i love you more”

you went to sleep peacefully that night, even though eric was leaving the next morning you felt content with his departure for the first time, you felt really confident in your relationship this time around, you knew you both were serious about doing anything and everything to be together as much as you could

you would have never believed that the boy you met in your middle school biology class would end up being the one you plan on sharing the rest of your life with, but here you are all these years later, that boy is now a man laying in your arms after a long night of making love to each other, your naked bodies tangled together as he lets out small snores, holding each other close promising to never let go again

—————————————————————————

i know i usually only write for nct but recently eric has been on my mind a lot so i needed to write for him hehe, i hoped you enjoyed <3

#youngjae #the boyz #eric sohn smut #eric sohn #eric sohn fluff #eric sohn fic #the boyz fanfic #the boyz fluff #the boyz fic #the boyz x reader #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn imagines #youngjae x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz smut #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz suggestive

425 notes · View notes

zzoguri · 3 months

Text

[part one] the perfect pair ➵ “ew, is that sunwoo over there? 저리 꺼져.”

esports player!kim sunwoo x esports player!reader

being a woman in the esports league is hard, but dealing with cocky kim sunwoo is unmatched. with the valorant champions tour about to commence, you two are forced to team up to retrieve the trophy. what will be tested—team morale or your patience around sunwoo?

chapter genre/warnings ➵ enemies to lovers, afab reader (they/them pronouns), slow burn, slight angst, crack, sexual tension, misogynistic & sexist remarks and behaviors, sunwoo is such an annoying teammate... retired ow player now val player…, rush gets introduced YIPPEE, sunwoo gets jealous...?, bets are made, a lot of gamer lingo (check the guide & visual aids!)

word count ➵ 10.5k words

parts ➵ check out the series masterlist

a/n ➵ it's out! felt a lil pressured by the number of notes i wont lie! i hope u guys enjoy this along with the visual aid <3 special shoutout to @shegotthewoobies @vernyangel @heemingyu @deobienthusiast for beta reading <3 much love to you all <3 esp to ki who made the usernames <3 if you enjoyed reading, do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

HYST wins VCT’s Game Changers By Bae Sumin

HYST takes the title as the winner of the Valorant Championship Tour (VCT) Game Changers in Los Angeles, USA against defending champion 88RR. The team took over the playing field, showcasing their astounding teamwork and tactful gameplays, and won 3-1 in a best-of-five series.

Since the first match on Bind, players Ailurus (Y/N) and bokku (Miyawaki Sakura) demonstrated their chemistry through their formidable performance as Omen and Yoru respectively. Their alliance was enough for their opponents to avoid one-on-one battles.

Rising player Ppiya (Hong Eunchae) secures her position as one of the most impressive duelists to come from this year’s VCT. In all of the matches played, Ppiya secures at least one kill per round, placing her 3rd in the leaderboards out of all players in the event.

In their second match on Ascent, remarkable sentinel players CHUU (Kim Jiwoo) and subakhye (Son Hyeju) built solid defense systems and dealt with flanks with ease. They can adjust their setups accordingly as they observe their opponents’ playstyle.

Although their exceptional performance in Game Changers makes its mark in VCT history, Ailurus only hopes that they are given more opportunities to engage in such tournaments. “I am happy [about our win], but I hope that the [VALORANT] esports scene sees us more than just winners [of Game Changers]. I want to be seen as a remarkable player regardless of gender,” they share.

Despite HYST participating in VCT for the past two years, this is their first championship win. In last year’s VCT, the organization met its defeat in VALORANT Challengers through their other roster consisting of players bae (Jacob Bae), nuguri (Kim Sunwoo), Darong (Lee Jaehyun), gyulz (Ju Haknyeon), and Maize (Lee Juyeon).

Both teams are under the guidance of Coach bori (Kim Younghoon), a retired VALORANT and League of Legends pro player.

These turn of events displayed HYST’s dedication to improvement and VALORANT. Many followers hope to see more of the reigning champions of Game Changers.

ROUND 1: “WELCOME TO MY WORLD!”

The moon radiates tonight, its white gleam accompanied by speckles amidst the sea of black. Now would be the perfect moment to take some time to yourself; get in more hours of sleep, or pick up a book you’ve been putting off. Instead…

“Hi, everyone! It’s been a while,” you greet your viewers through the webcam.

The monitor shines on you, colors of blue and violet painting your skin. On the wall behind you is a shelf filled with memorabilia; medals from small competitions along with trophies from bigger tournaments.

“I know it’s a little late here, but I was itching to play some matches.” Your eyes glide through your stream’s chat. Many viewers are ecstatic to have you back on Twitch while others question your late hours of streaming.

jseollie: even after game changers?? CRAZY! bboppull: GRIND NEVER STOPS 💪💪💪 bookeucutie: tell us abt vct!!!

A chuckle leaves you as you open up Valorant. “I really enjoyed my time in VCT! I met some of my favorite players like Lorri from Evil Genius, sonder from Shopify, even Version1’s MeL.”

You lean back on your chair as you recall the event. “I won’t lie, I was very nervous about going against 88RR, which, by the way, is a lovely team. We met up for drinks after.” You scratch the back of your neck as you try to go through what your chat says.

“I remember talking to Kura about it since the semifinals, and she had to give me a constant pep talk.” The memory of Sakura knocking sense into you after every match makes you laugh.

As you dish to your viewers about your experience throughout Game Changers, you read their comments. Many of your viewers were happy with your revelation of the teams' bonds with each other. “Yeah, we’re competitive but we’re here with the same dreams, so I think it did help us form some kind of connection. I was able to exchange contacts with Sunmi and Taeyeon as well. I told them that whenever they decide to come back to Korea, they should give me a call.”

ajiajibee: is the trophy with you? ghanadara: i think it’s beside the picture frame

“Oh, I don’t get to keep it. It’s back in the headquarters,” you say as you slightly swivel your chair to the side. “That picture frame, however,” you point at your shelf, “is my certificate. That way, we all have something to bring home.”

You adjust your chair before smiling at the camera. “Anyway, I’m really happy that our practice paid off. It was an honor to even participate and meet other players.”

Most of the reactions were positive ones; congratulations and desires to see your team play together for more events. Yet, regardless of your achievements, there’s constantly a handful of negative ones.

hwithefool: Cant believe you won game changers. Ur not even that good. hwithefool: didn’t even get to champs L honeycube: boosted ass universefactory deleted hwithefool’s message. universefactory deleted hwithefool’s message. universefactory deleted honeycube’s message. hwithefool is now banned from this chat. Reason: Being rude honeycube is now banned from this chat. Reason: Being rude

Thankfully, your moderators were there to take control of such—but you’ll always know what people think of you.

“Anyway, for today’s stream, I’ll be playing with Juhak and Hyeju!” You exclaim as you switch scenes, now showing the Valorant lobby. “We’re going to play on our alt accounts for today, so it should be fun.”

real_juhaknyeon: LFGGGGG goated team rubyvobo: we get nom, jeorge porkwell, AND hyejuseyo?? We win today sunwooluver: what about nuguri?? he’s solo queuing right now rubyvobo: OFHEJSHSJJSKS I LOVE YOU GUYS sunwooluver: WILL NUGURI JOIN??

One of the few perks that comes with being an established streamer is that you could ignore comments, pretending you never saw them, and you’d get away with it; people just didn’t need to talk about it all together and you’d be fine.

So when you invite Haknyeon and Hyeju to your party, you continue talking to your chat about today’s stream. “We’re not going to play ranked today, I think?” You hum for a moment, going through the agenda in your head. “Well, we might, but I have no clue. It depends on what they want.”

Before you can continue with your rambles, your phone vibrates on your desk. Once you grab it, you notice that text messages from Kim Younghoon, the coach of the organization, have come your way.

coach bbang 🍞: hi y/n! don’t forget to remind your teammates about tomorrow’s meeting for vct ☺️ coach bbang 🍞: and gl with your stream tonight! y/n: teewai coach :DD see u tomo

“Sorry about that!” You put your phone away and give your full attention to your monitor. Hyeju and Haknyeon already joined your party, and you spot that they’re in a voice channel on the HYST’s Discord server. “Before I go join VC with the others, I just wanted to say thank you for supporting me and the others in Game Changers. It was a fun but tough competition, and I wouldn’t be here without you guys.”

Although your job did start as a hobby, you continued to persevere through such hardships thanks to your support systems; your teammates and viewers alike. You only ever considered going pro thanks to two friends. Unfortunately, time has its way of making you drift apart from them; you hope you can go face-to-face against them one day if the universe willed for it.

“Anyway, let’s have some good games!”

“I tuned in to your stream last night, Y/N,” Eunchae starts. “That losing streak is insane.”

You sigh, shoulders down as you walk dejectedly. “Don’t even get me started. Our randos were ass and wouldn’t stop talking shit.” You look at your younger friend who only pouts as you recap the events of last night. “I know you would always enter and clear sites for us, my Manchae.”

With your arm wrapped around her shoulder, her expression shifts into a smile. “I mean, that’s the least I can do as your duelist.”

“Well, not everyone seems to know that.”

The HYST headquarters is a three-story infrastructure whose interior resembles corporate buildings; the furniture is mostly of sleek leather and dark-stained wood. Monotone linoleum tiles and off-white walls stretch throughout the building.

As soon as you both arrive in front of the meeting room, you swing the doors open, revealing Sakura, Hyeju, and Jiwoo who sit together on one side of the conference table. You and Eunchae rush to them, exchanging greetings and embraces.

“Do you always play Valorant?” Jiwoo directs the question to you, referencing your stream last night with Hyeju and Haknyeon, to which you roll your eyes.

“No, I just had the itch to play!” You take a seat in between Sakura and Jiwoo. “Plus, I’ll take any opportunity to make some money.”

The doors swing open. “Hi, everyone. It’s nice to see you all,” Younghoon greets your team before walking to the whiteboard situated in the corner of the room.

The organization’s general manager, Lee Sangyeon, trails behind him, a smile painting his face as he takes a seat at the end of the table. “I’ll say this again, but good work in Game Changers.”

“Thanks, Sangyeon,” Sakura expresses her gratitude on behalf of the team. “We wouldn’t have been able to win without your help along with Younghoon’s.”

He shakes his head, trying to play it off. “No, I’m just here to make sure you guys get to participate, you know? Just want to make sure that you guys get recognized.”

Silence settles. The squeaking from Younghoon's marker is faint but loud enough to capture your attention. Although his figure covers most of what’s written on the whiteboard, you catch sight of a few gamer tags—Ailurus and bae.

Before you can decipher the other words, the doors open. “Hi, guys!” Haknyeon enters the room with all smiles. “Hello Game Changers winners,” he bows his head, making you chuckle.

His teammates, Jacob and Juyeon, trail behind him, relaxed expressions resting on their faces. “Congrats on the win,” Jacob shakes hands with everyone on your team. “That one play on Ascent went crazy, by the way.” His praise is directed towards you, and you try to play it cool.

“Ah, it was nothing. Just got lucky.”

“If I was in your situation, I probably wouldn’t have secured that round,” Juyeon chimes in as he takes a seat beside his teammates. The three boys sit across from your team.

Haknyeon smacks Juyeon’s arm, laughing at his words. “Yeah! Remember that one round in Breeze?” Juyeon only rolls his eyes while his teammates recap the events for your team.

You don’t really interact with Haknyeon’s team (or Jacob’s team if you were going to follow formalities), just the occasional greetings and small talk if you were going to be honest. It’s not like you didn’t want to be friends with them; there aren't enough opportunities to bond when you all have different schedules, let alone priorities. But you did enjoy their team's presence, and every interaction with them is one you hope may bring your team closer to theirs.

Except for one player.

“Sorry, we’re late!” Hyunjae enters the room with an apologetic smile. “Someone decided to sleep in.”

“Not true! Hyunjae’s lying.”

The room starts to grow dimmer, almost as if life were sucked out of it. Only you seemed to see it, never the others. There he is—the only exception.

He’s dressed in an oversized graphic tee layered on top of a white long-sleeved shirt and a pair of black baggy jeans. His hair shows its soft curls, clearly indicating that he’s the one lying.

A playful pout rests on his lips as he tries to continue his defense. Yet, when he locks eyes with you, he holds back. A scowl now paints his face.

If you follow esports, then you would know who Kim Sunwoo is—an established pro player who switched from Overwatch to Valorant. At first, many people were confused by his choice, throwing away years invested into a different game. Yet, it seemed that he didn’t care about what others had to say as he signed with HYST a few months after he started playing Valorant.

Within that time frame, he was able to impress Younghoon and Sangyeon with his gameplay. After all, Valorant and Overwatch required different playstyles. It was easy for him to become big in the Valorant pro scene, as you would like to say, for he made use of his existing fame.

He’s adored by many people who follow the pro scene; audience and players alike. You, however, seemed to think differently.

You shift your gaze to Younghoon, silently hoping that the meeting will commence. As if he heard your thoughts, he says, “No worries. Go, take your seats.”

Unfortunately, Hyunjae opts to sit across from Eunchae, leaving one vacant seat across from you.

Sunwoo sits on the chair as a dejected sigh leaves him, causing you to roll your eyes while you keep your gaze away from him. All you need to do is get through the meeting and you won’t have to face him for a while.

“Thank you everyone for coming here today,” Younghoon starts as he faces all of you. The whiteboard behind him has now been flipped, and the gamer tags are now hidden. “Uh, before we get into the agenda for today’s meeting, let’s congratulate the winners of Game Changers!”

Applause erupts from everyone who didn’t participate in that competition, but your eyes don’t miss how slow the boy across you claps, almost as if he wasn’t impressed.

“Now, we can get to the point of today’s meeting.” Younghoon steps to the side, revealing the text written—VCT GAMEPLAN with irregular shapes surrounding it. “We all know that VCT is around the corner, a few months from now, which means we’ve got to start our preparations.”

“Normally, we would’ve gone straight to strategizing and having you guys,” your coach looks at the team across you, “practice, but Sangyeon and I have agreed on doing things differently this year.” He flips the board, revealing everyone’s gamer tags. “We’re changing the roster.”

Many players are caught off-guard by Younghoon’s announcement. It’s not usual for a roster change to take place, especially with only a few months left before qualifiers commence.

“We know that not everyone may want to participate in the upcoming VCT, and I’ve spent weeks trying to configure what’s the best roster to represent HYST.” Younghoon then pulls out a blue marker and starts to circle some names; CHUU, Darong, bae, nuguri, and… Ailurus? “These are my picks for VCT.”

A frown appears on your face, but before you can comment, Haknyeon beats you to it. “I don’t know if having Hyunjae and Sunwoo play together is smart.” All eyes are now on him. “I mean, no offense,” his eyes flicker to the two subjects, “I don’t know if Jiwoo and Y/N would be able to keep up, and that’s not a diss to them.”

“I agree,” Jacob chimes in. “Haknyeonie, Juyeon, and I can play with Sunwoo and Hyunjae as duelists because we know their playstyles well. We’ve played together for years. Y/N and Jiwoo would be playing with them for the first time.”

Younghoon bites the inside of his cheek, deep in thought as he considers what’s been said. “Thoughts?” He directs his question to the two people in question. The two players exchange glances, almost as if they were communicating.

“Yeah, I know Sunwoo and I can adjust our playstyle but it took more than half a year for Juyeon and Haknyeon to get used to our playstyle,” Hyunjae says as he scratches the back of his neck. “And if it helps, I’d prefer to sit this one out. You know, I have a lot of sponsorships lined up that I need to stream for also.”

Your coach sighs. “No worries. What about you, Sunwoo?”

“Wait, can I say something?” Jiwoo gathers the attention of everyone in the room. “I also want to opt out of VCT. I mean, I just played in Game Changers.” A guilty smile takes over her features.

Thankfully, Younghoon acknowledges where Jiwoo comes from. “Of course, I understand. After all, that’s why we're having this meeting.”

Before your coach can try to reconfigure the roster, Sangyeon stands up from his seat.

“Can I suggest another rotation?” Younghoon nods before handing him a red marker. Sangyeon starts to circle another list of gamer tags, ones he believes should be in the final line-up of players for VCT; it consists of bokku, bae, gyulz, Ppiya, and… Ailurus, again? Your coach frowns as he looks at the selection.

“I think Sunwoo should be benched.” Your eyebrows shoot up at Sangyeon’s words, not expecting those words considering the player’s reputation.“He’s made some rash plays recently, and you know that.” You glance at the boy who sits across from you only to see that his gaze is affixed to the ground.

Younghoon shakes his head, clearly in disbelief at the manager’s words. “Yes, but that’s only for a few matches. Trust me when I say that Sunwoo is strong as a duelist and an initiator.” His attempt to defend his mentee is weak against Sangyeon’s opinion.

“He plays for himself!”

Clearly, the two higher-ups have opposing views.

“Think about it; Eunchae and Sakura are great duelists, and anyone else on that team plays initiator.”

Although Sangyeon seems to believe his proposed line-up is the best one yet, your coach shakes his head. “Eunchae isn’t playing.” He glances at her before saying, “She told me beforehand.” All eyes are now on the teen who only shows an apologetic smile.

“Sorry, I wanted to take a break from this year’s VCT to focus on my studies.”

Sangyeon scratches the back of his neck. “Well—”

“Hey,” Sakura cuts into the conversation. “Haven’t we considered that Y/N and Sunwoo might not want to play together?” She looks at you two with scrunched eyebrows, clearly confused by your coach’s proposal. “I mean, we all know their relationship, no?”

Your feud isn’t under the table. All of the players know about your distaste towards each other but they don’t know where it stems from.

“Yes, but their playstyles complement each other.” Everyone’s confused as to why Younghoon is persistent. “Out of all my mentees, I’ve worked with them the most, and I know exactly how they can work together.”

“Well, I want Y/N on that team.” As your manager says that, all the attention is now on you. You’re not sure why Sangyeon would say that. Uncomfortable with how you’ve become the topic of the conversation, you cannot help but sink into your seat.

“And I agree with you. But if we’re going to have Y/N play, I need Sunwoo on that team.” You lock eyes with Sunwoo briefly as your coach says that. “He’s my one-pick, and I know he’ll help the team out the most.” Sangyeon sighs, rethinking the roster once more. You shift your gaze to the ground, clearly unhappy being paired with the player across from you.

You weren’t happy that the two continued to discuss the final roster without asking you, but before you could speak up, someone beat you to it.

“Shouldn’t Y/N take a break?” Your gaze lands on the boy across from you, eyebrows now furrowed over his suggestion. “I mean, they did just come from winning Game Changers. We can have Juyeon take over.” When you spot a small smirk resting on his lips, you ball your fists.

Whatever game Sunwoo is playing, you don’t want any part of it. If anything, whatever he’s trying to insinuate has you clenching your teeth. And you’re about to retort—

“No,” Sangyeon says, speaking on your behalf. “Y/N’s a good leader and a team player. I trust Y/N the most out of all the people on the roster.”

Sunwoo raises his hands in defense. “It was only a suggestion.” But when he glances at you, you don’t miss the sinister smile on his face.

Not only was Sunwoo trying to bench you out of the competition but Sangyeon and Younghoon were too invested in their conversation, speaking on your behalf as if you were nothing but a tool for the organization. Without a second thought, you stand up from your seat. Everyone’s eyes are on you as you storm out of the room.

That’s the thing about being a pro player in the esports scene; no one seems to listen to you if you aren’t a man.

For once, silence settles amongst everyone. Your departure is a message, one that everyone failed to see earlier on.

A sigh leaves Sakura. “I know we’re all worried about VCT but let’s not forget to hear everyone out, okay?” She glances at the doors that are now shut closed, wondering where you may have gone. “You know Y/N. Just avoid speaking on their behalf and let them talk for themselves.”

“Yeah,” Eunchae huffs, “let’s give them time to cool down. We only wrapped up Game Changers a few weeks ago.”

As Younghoon crosses his arms, a sigh leaves him as he looks down to the floor. “Sorry, Sangyeon and I were too caught up with what we wanted.” He glances at his watch before shifting his gaze to the players who sit idly. “Let’s talk about this again once they come back.”

In the eye of a hurricane stands you, a witness to the chaos, wondering what course of action nature shall take upon you. Somehow, your screams are soundless—not a single soul minds the hurricane for as long as it doesn’t hit them.

You stand in front of the washroom mirror, taking your time to recollect your thoughts. The stress that comes from the upcoming VCT, the pressure to represent HYST once more, the likelihood of working with Kim Sunwoo for the first time—there’s nothing you can control.

The stars point you towards acceptance, perseverance.

It’s not that you were against representing HYST for the upcoming VCT events. If anything, you were grateful that Sangyeon and Younghoon trusted you to undertake such an important role.

Although you’ve competed in Game Changers, the audience it attracts is smaller in comparison to the ones your manager and coach want to see you in. All eyes will be on you as you compete to reach to Champions.

The weight that comes with playing in a worldwide esports event, one that most of the community is tuned into, rests on your shoulders—a coalition of anxiety from every round that plays out, migraines from reconfiguring your strategies, the comments of you playing just because you aren’t a man. Those reasons should be enough for you to decline the offer, to protect your peace, and to make more out of your streams.

But nothing can compare to bringing back home the fruit of your labor—the Champions Cup—the recognition that comes from competing, and the bond built amongst teammates. If you got to experience all that from Game Changers, you’re almost certain that VCT will bring experiences to be marked in your books.

But what do you know, right?

With a mind clearer after today’s event, you exit the washroom, still deciding whether you should compete or not. Yet, it’s as if the universe has plans to provoke you as you come face-to-face with the last person you want to see.

His eyes lock with yours and a snarl appears on his face. “What? I had to use the washroom.” Defensive, like always.

Before you can make your way back to the conference room, he grabs your arm, holding you back. You glare at Sunwoo, your eyes glancing at his hand on your arm, and he lets go.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “I know we don’t like each other.” Tell me about it. “But,” he sucks in a breath as he stares back at you. “I know we want to prove ourselves, so why don’t we just suck it up and work together?”

Anyone could believe that Sunwoo’s trying to play nice with you—he’s willing to make amends in hopes that there’s no bad blood between you two—but you could care less about what this man has to say.

“It’s not that easy,” you start. “You don’t understand what I want.” Unlike him, you know that proving yourself does nothing.

His frowns over your words. “What do you mean—”

“Sunwoo, you can easily say you want to play to prove yourself,” you cut him off. “I can’t say the same for me. It’s a privilege enough that I can even play in these events.” You jab your index finger against his chest, making him stagger backward.

That’s what makes you and Sunwoo different; while he chases praises from a few lucky plays, you’re left to deal with the backlash from just breathing.

If Sunwoo wants to retort, you don’t give him the chance to do so as you walk away from him. As you reach the doors, you take a deep breath in before swinging them open. The chatter is interrupted by your presence as you make your way back to your seat.

Sunwoo follows shortly, keeping his gaze on you as he takes his seat. You would’ve ignored the way he looks at you but the eye contact you two exchange amplifies what you told him then in the halls. So when an ominous grin appears on your face, the lousy bridge he tried to build towards you crumbles. After all, it was constructed on a poor attempt to save his career.

“Count me in.”

ROUND 2: “YOUR BIGGEST MISTAKE WAS THAT YOU PISSED ME OFF.”

With every day that passes, the weight of VCT rests heavier on your shoulders. Playing with a team you don’t compete with is not easy. Yet, you’re hopeful today—it’s all you have, after all.

As you enter the practice room, you are greeted by the chilly air that emits from the air conditioners. The practice room resembles an internet cafe; desks are lined up with monitors and keyboards while CPUs are placed under the tables.

You catch sight of Sakura and Haknyeon chatting away as they sit in front of their assigned computers. Jacob, however, is busy talking to Younghoon; you can only assume they’re talking about possible strategies.

Before you take a seat beside Haknyeon, you make sure to greet everyone. “And I couldn’t believe Juyeon just fell to the floor!” He exclaims which has Sakura laughing.

“What’d I miss?”

Haknyeon looks at you on the brink of tears before he retells the story. “Okay, because you know how Juyeon and I share a room?” You nod. “So, I told Juyeon to shut the lights off on his way to bed because I was ready to go to sleep. But somehow, he got lazy while walking so he had this genius idea to just jump to the bed.” At this point, your friend is laughing in between words, and the story has gone incomprehensible.

“And the next thing you know it, Haknyeon hears a sudden thump.”

You burst into laughter over the story. “You’re telling me he missed?!” The only answers you get are chortles from the two.

Preparations for VCT have fueled your anxiety for many reasons, possible losses and backlash to name a few, but Haknyeon and Sakura bring pockets of sunshine amidst the storm. If they weren’t here, you wouldn’t know how to deal with your worries.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Your mood shifts as your last teammate enters the room with an iced americano in his hand. You both lock eyes for a brief moment before you shift your gaze back to your friends, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Okay, hurry! Everyone, start fixing your setups,” Younghoon orders as he claps his hands, grabbing everyone’s attention.

You chose your seat in hopes that Jacob would sit beside you, making it easier for you both to discuss possible team strategies. Yet, the other in-game leader sits somewhere else, leaving Sunwoo to take the spot next to you. Your bubbly mood has turned sour.

“Anyway, today we will be having a practice match! So, what to expect is that…”

Younghoon’s words fall flat on your ears as your heartbeat fills your ears. As you try to fix your monitor and audio settings to fit your preferences, you hope that the anxiety will die down. Yet, you feel a pair of eyes stare a hole right into you—annoyance now accompanies your anxiety.

“Can you mind your own business and listen to Coach?” You raise the question, only loud enough for your annoying teammate to hear.

“I am paying attention.”

You scoff, “Oh, so you’ll listen now?” You rip your gaze away from the computer to glare at Sunwoo. “You didn’t listen to me last time.”

A few days ago, your team decided to scrimmage against the other members of the organization. It was a good way to practice before signing up for scrimmages against other teams participating.

Unfortunately for you, it was a match that solidified your dislike of the player. With every round, he found ways to get on your nerves, ignoring your comms and playing for himself to name a few. If you were going to be honest, you expected a bit more from Sunwoo—Sangyeon is right about his stance on the player.

Sunwoo shrugs, glancing at your coach who continues to explain today’s practice match. “I don’t know, your strats weren’t making sense last time. I trust Jacob more.”

You clench your fists as you close your eyes briefly in disbelief. “So, if it’s a man speaking, you’ll listen?” You shake your head in disbelief as you return your attention to the computer. “Jacob and I had the same plan, asshole.”

If Sunwoo wanted to defend himself, he’s not allowed to do so as Younghoon calls on both of your names. “Hey, are you listening?” The two of you nod profusely in a poor attempt to hide your conversation. “Okay then. For today’s scrimmage, you’ll be going against RUSH.”

There’s no way, right? “Sorry, did you say RUSH?” You earn a nod from him, and your world tilts on its axis. After how many years, it only took one scrimmage for you to reunite with your reasons behind why you stand in the pro scene today—Jeon Jungkook and Eric Sohn.

The three of you first met each other in university in a club full of people who liked to play video games. At first, you weren’t sure why you joined in the first place, dreading the possibility of dealing with men who would throw misogynistic comments towards you. Yet, the universe found a way to make sure you would enjoy your stay, gifting you two boys who became your best friends from university.

“Today is the perfect time to get to know your opponents, get a feel of what they do. I know that you guys have started playing together, trying to get a feel of what it’s like to play together, but I hope this scrimmage will build on it,” Younghoon says as your team quickly logs into their accounts on Discord.

Once you’ve logged in, you notice that Younghoon has sent you an invite to a Discord server. You accept it, greeted by the huge selection of teams participating, and you catch sight of RUSH in a voice channel. All of their gamer tags are recognizable, but two of them have stuck with you since your university days.

“You can all jump on the voice channel with them. Don’t forget to introduce yourselves.”

You’re the first to hop on a call and your teammates follow you shortly. Usually, you were the type to have someone lead the conversation, but to say you were excited to talk to your old friends would be an understatement. “Hi, everyone.”

“Oh my god, is that Y/N?” Jungkook asks, surprised by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Y/N?!” Eric’s microphone crackles over how loud he exclaims your name, and a grin rests on your lips over the reactions.

There they are. “I know, it’s been forever. I haven’t talked to you both since we graduated.”

The next thing you know, their faces appear on the screen; they don’t look too different from when you last saw them, but they’ve grown up. “Is it actually you?!” Jungkook asks. “I won’t believe it until I see you.”

A chuckle leaves your lips over your old friend’s words. “God, I’ll turn my cam on.” You click on the video icon, revealing your poor attempt to hold back your grin. “Happy now?”

“It’s been so long, what the fuck? I miss you! Congrats on your win!” Eric says. “Everyone, why don’t we turn on our cams?” Both his teammates and yours have turned their cameras on. “Let’s introduce ourselves.”

The introductions are quick. You learned the real names of Jungkook and Eric’s teammates; Choi Soobin, Jeon Wonwoo, and Lee Jeno. RUSH’s roster is a good selection of players. Your palms get sweaty as you hear your heartbeat in your ears—nothing could’ve prepared you for today’s scrimmage.

Before you can all agree to start the match, Sunwoo pops a question. “Sorry, how do you guys know each other?” You watch his expression through Discord, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

Jungkook chuckles before saying, “We went to uni together, met in this club which we all left after our first year.” All he gets is a hum from your teammate, but you don’t miss the way Sunwoo looks off into nowhere, almost as if he’s irritated—you wonder why his mood shifted. “Anyway, are we ready to have our match?” You all hum in agreement before turning your cameras off.

“Alright, good luck and have fun!”

The worst Valorant matches are the ones that reach overtime. It’s 12 to 13 on Icebox in RUSH’s favor, and your team is on the brink of losing—only one win is needed and your opponent will leave victorious.

“I think we should go through mid and then make our way through A-site.”

You shake your head in disapproval. “No, Jacob, I think we should enter a site together instead. It’s risky to pass through mid since,” you glance at the leaderboard to check how many credits Jungkook has, “I have a strong feeling someone will use an operator.”

Although Jacob seems to consider your suggestion, a groan leaves Sunwoo. “Wouldn’t it be better to split up?”

“No, we’re not strong enough to fight our own battles. We need to play together, fight together.” You would like to think that your team can handle isolated battles, but you guys were weak against RUSH. Perhaps they had good reflexes or better game sense.

As the timer starts to count down, Jacob orders, “Okay, we’ll go with Y/N’s plan. The most important thing is that we don’t pick fights on our own and plant the spike.”

The round commences, and you all make your way into your positions; Sakura and Jacob slowly make their way through A-main while you go up to the belt. Haknyeon carefully sets up his trip wires and camera before joining you.

“I’m going to dart first.” Once you get your recon bolt out, you shoot it far enough to land on the wall; it catches the presence of Soobin and Wonwoo. The toxic screen goes up, perfectly concealing the site.

“Go!”

It happens all too quickly, shots fired and damage dealt and received. Before you know it, your team is dead—except for one who didn’t seem to listen to your plans.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you say as you spectate Sunwoo, watching that he’s making his way back to where you guys died, leaving mid. There are only two players that he needs to fight, Jungkook on Jett and Eric on Deadlock. You know the round is tense, and the last thing you want to do is aggravate him.

Thankfully, Sunwoo plants the spike, but he situates himself in a spot that wouldn’t allow him to reposition quickly. A pair of footsteps go up the stairs, signaling that someone is making their way to heaven.

For a moment, he keeps his gaze affixed to screens, but he looks back to A-main, expecting a flank, and he’s right; Eric comes into his vision.

You expect Sunwoo to win the fight, but when his body falls to the ground, a sigh leaves you. The mood has plummeted, sinking into murky waters of frustration, disappointment. “Fuck, sorry,” Sunwoo apologizes as he covers his mouth in frustration.

“It’s okay, you tried,” Jacob attempts to console his teammate. “Good work, everyone.”

The spike gets defused; HYST has lost against RUSH.

“Come on, let’s go hop on a call with them again.”

With that, your team follows Jacob’s orders. “Tight match everyone, but a fun one!” Wonwoo says.

“Yeah, thanks for the game,” Sakura responds, trying to stay in high spirits.

“Well, we have to get going. We have another scrimmage,” Eric starts. “Y/N, send me your number through DMs. Let’s hang with Jungkook.”

You hum, a small smile resting on your lips. “Sure, see you guys in Challengers.” With that, everyone leaves the voice channel.

While RUSH is probably celebrating their win, HYST is in low spirits. It’s a practice match, sure, but still a match nevertheless.

“Good work, everyone,” Younghoon says in an attempt to cheer everyone up. “I really liked the energy I saw from you guys. You all put up a good fight and fought together.”

Although everyone seems to hum in agreement with your coach, you don’t join in. “Why did you stray off?” You redirect your gaze to the boy beside you, only earning a frown. “Didn’t we agree to play together?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “Yeah, but—”

“But what, Sunwoo? What could’ve been the reason for you to not enter with us and not follow the game plan?” You’re frustrated over everything; the stress of VCT, your loss against RUSH, your teammate who never listens to you.

“Hey, knock it off!” Younghoon gets in between you two. “Now is not the time to be fighting.” You and Sunwoo only glare at each other. “Cannot believe I’m dealing with a bunch of 5-year-olds,” he mutters under his breath.

“Jacob and Sakura, nice work in holding B-site, by the way. Haknyeon, you also did well holding A-site.” Then, your coach glances between you two. “Now, we still need to work on your coordination and teamwork.” It’s a statement for your whole team, but it feels as if it were directed at you and Sunwoo. You wish you sat out of VCT.

“You can go now.”

With that, everyone gets ready to exit the practice room. Your coach is the first one out. You think you’re at fault for causing stress on him but if only Sunwoo would work with you—listen, for the matter—then maybe you two wouldn’t be in this mishap.

“Hey, you two.” You look at Jacob who calls on you and Sunwoo. “Can you stay behind for a bit?” You glance at Haknyeon and Sakura who observe the interaction briefly. As you both nod, your other teammates have taken their leave.

Now, you stand in front of him with your teammate beside you. A sigh leaves him as he rubs his jaw while a frown rests on his face. You only see Jacob like this when he’s focused on his games, but never when it comes to dealing with issues like what your team (or you and Sunwoo, really) has.

“I know you two don’t like each other, and I still don’t know why.” You and Sunwoo exchange glances before ignoring each other once more. “But you understand that you both signed up for VCT, right? That means you will be playing many matches together.”

You’re aware that agreeing to represent HYST means having to work with Sunwoo. Your reasons for participating are enough to convince you that you handle all the upcoming matches with Sunwoo—all adversities will be dealt with. Yet, you couldn’t speak for your teammate.

“So, I’m asking that you guys focus on working together. I’m not asking you to make up or anything but to still be professional around each other. We still have to win the qualifiers, so no funny business, okay?”

Jacob was right. Your dispute is getting in the way of team dynamics, holding HYST back, and you didn’t want to inconvenience your team any further. With that, you nod, begrudgingly accepting Jacob’s request. You can spot Sunwoo nodding along with you in the corner of your eye.

“Okay, thanks. You can both go now.”

When you and Sunwoo leave the practice room, not a single word is exchanged.

ROUND 3: “DON’T LOOK SO SMUG, SUNWOO!”

Over the last months, you and your team have spent every waking hour on Valorant—practice, practice, practice, until you all felt satisfied.

To say you were sick of the game is an understatement, but some of your teammates try to make every minute enjoyable; Haknyeon would goof off some rounds and knife opponents from behind, Jacob would make comments that you never would’ve imagined leaving his mouth, and Sakura would ask questions about everyone before every round. You take your part in lifting the spirits and making these matches less monotonous by reading stories from the r/AmITheAsshole subreddit.

As for your relationship with Sunwoo, you’ve tried to keep it professional. During matches and strategizing phases, you would communicate with each other, exchanging ideas of how to win these games. Outside of those periods, however, were spent ignoring each other’s existence.

Thankfully, all those months of practicing didn’t go to waste—your team went against multiple organizations during Qualifiers, and now you’re on the last leg of the event. Only one more win is needed and your team makes it to Challengers.

Now, your team is in the practice room, head-to-head against another team. It’s 11 to 12 in your team’s favor on Ascent. It’s absurd that your opponents made a comeback from 3-9, but you’ll blame it on the superstition.

“Let’s play default. Their team tends to push out anyway,” Jacob orders before he takes a sip of water. “I’ll play by tiles while Sakura and Haknyeonie can go to A-site. Sunwoo and Y/N, play near B-site. Just make sure to not get caught by their Sova’s recon dart.” Everyone on your team agrees with Jacob’s plan.

The round commences. Just like what Jacob called out, a recon dart is thrown, but it doesn’t catch sight of you and Sunwoo. “Sova’s by B-site,” Sunwoo tells the team.

“I hear footsteps by tree,” Sakura starts, and Jacob takes it as his sign to smoke the cubby off. Before you know it, he takes a peek at mid and kills off the enemy team’s Gekko. Sakura flashes A-site before double-swinging with Haknyeon. “There are three players by A-site! Go to B-site!”

You and Sunwoo start to make your way through B-site. You walk in front of him, trying to smoke off hall and market. It should’ve occurred to you how weird it is that Sunwoo trails behind you, but it doesn’t, and you choose to enter the site.

The next thing you know, your body flops to the ground, and you let out a groan. As you spectate Sunwoo, he successfully trades you. “Spike down B,” the announcer voices out. Now, it’s a three versus one battle.

“Astra’s with me! Go plant,” Haknyeon calls out, and Sunwoo listens. He plants the spike like a breeze and situates himself in the boathouse.

Jacob tucks himself by mid, waiting for Astra to pass through spawn. “I can catch Astra off-guard while you try to pinch them,” he tells Haknyeon. Within a few seconds, he successfully lands his shots and kills Astra, securing HYST a win—your team will be participating in Challengers.

Everyone cheers, getting off their seats and huddling into a group hug. “Holy shit, Jacob! That was such a good 3K!” Haknyeon cheers as he’s overfilled with joy.

Your teammate tries to shrug off the compliments. “We all did good.”

A pair of arms wrap around you and Jacob. “That was an amazing play!” Younghoon is thrilled by today’s matches. “WE’RE GOING TO CHALLENGERS!”

It’s a dream come true; you’ll be competing on stage in front of a wider audience against teams who are more capable than you—who have more experience than you—but the journey has only started. You wonder what the upcoming months will have in store for you and your team—what will time do for you and Sunwoo?

You’re the first to break up from the hug, everyone else following along. “I’m going to call Sangyeon over,” your coach announces before making his way out of the practice room.

Then, Haknyeon pulls out his phone. “Wait, the guys are blowing up our group chat. I’ll just call them.”

Sunwoo is about to follow his teammates, but you grab hold of his forearm as you hold him back, and he frowns at you. “I need to talk to Sunwoo,” you smile at the other guys who only glance at each other, confused by your actions. Yet, they let the matter go, letting you deal with your business with him.

Sakura grabs your shoulder. “I’m going to call the team. Anything you want me to tell them?”

“I’ll tell them myself, it’s okay. You can go.”

With that, it was only you and your teammate.

You let go of his arm and a frown replaces the grin you once showed. “What was that during the last round?” As Sunwoo scrunches his eyebrows further, you groan. “You literally baited me.”

An exasperated sigh leaves him. “God, it’s not that serious.”

“Sunwoo, you’re playing duelist. You’re supposed to be entering sites for the team.”

“And I do!” He glares at you, annoyed by your complaints. “We still won. Can’t you just be happy that we made it to Challengers?”

That’s the thing you hate about playing with Sunwoo; if the outcome is good, he’ll turn a blind eye to his mistakes. How does he improve as a player if he doesn’t acknowledge his faults?

He’s about to turn away from you—make his way to his teammates and celebrate today’s win—but you grab his hand and pull him close to you. The sudden action almost has him toppling over you, and thankfully, his reflexes are quick enough to make sure you both don’t fall.

But the distance between you two is smaller, his eyes wide while yours remain stern. He holds his breath while yours grazes his skin.

You’ve never seen him this way—compliant, obedient—and it’s a sight to behold, one you’d like to keep for yourself. If only he were like this to you, then maybe you wouldn’t—no, snap out of it.

“Sunwoo.” He gulps at the way you call his name. “I’m your controller, I’m supposed to stay alive longer to support you.” You hold his gaze. “Try to keep this behavior up during the rest of VCT, I dare you.”

There’s malice laced in your tone, an attempt to make him cower—obey—over your threat, and you know your job is successful when Sunwoo doesn’t try to retort. He has every opportunity to retort—rile you up like all other times—and yet, he remains silent.

With that, you let go of his hand, stepping away to give you both room to breathe. Patches of warmth litter all over your skin, from your neck to your chest. To have Sunwoo look at you like that has—

“Guys!” Younghoon comes back rushing into the room with Sangyeon trailing behind him. You catch sight of the smile that rests on your manager’s face, clearly proud of your team. “Let’s look at the list of the teams who made it to Challengers.”

Your coach fiddles with the television remote and opens up the stream. Just in time, you’re able to look through the teams who made it to the next event. As you spot HYST in a sea of esteemed teams, fulfillment bubbles within you.

Yet, you know the battle doesn’t end here. RUSH makes the cut—will your team remain victorious or will it meet its demise?

ROUND 4: “YOU’RE HERE TO TAKE MY KILLS, SUNWOO? LET’S MAKE IT A COMPETITION.”

You were lying when you said you were sick of Valorant. There were other games you could be playing, Minecraft, Overwatch, and Stardew Valley to name a few. Yet, here you are, playing your favorite (read: most hated) game for today’s stream.

“I won’t lie, I’m not sure why I’m playing this game on stream,” you chuckle. “Like, I could be playing something else to save my mental health.” The comments keep coming as you ramble, trying to kill time.

keybladetwo: CONGRATS IN PLAYOFFS!!! GOODLUCK IN CHALLENGERS orangecheeko: HYST TAKEOVER 🔥🔥🔥 hungrydinosaur: the 3k bae did last round was INSANE

A flood of compliments comes your way, making you smile. “Awe. Thanks, everyone! I still can’t believe I’ll be playing for Challengers, and then there’ll be Masters and Champions.”

reingoaway: how was it like playing with the others :O noxturnal: U and Jacob on the same team must be crazy! Aren’t u both IGLs

A hum leaves you as you think over your answers. “It’s fun for the most part,” you admit. “I mean, it took us a while to get used to each other’s playstyles, but I’d like to think that the practice paid off.”

You fiddle around with your Valorant collection, changing skins on some firearms. “I’d like to think Jacob and I do pretty well in strategizing in the middle of matches. Sure, we have our fair share of contrasting opinions but we always consider each other’s ideas.”

Although the time you spend practicing with your team can be tiresome, your teammates try to make every round enjoyable. It’s thanks to them that you’re able to deal with the weight of VCT for the most part. There is burnout that comes from playing the same game at a pro level—at least you have most of your teammates to thank for the most part.

tagmeup: Will you play with nuguri? ailguriluver: YEAA u guys go crazy together ashfallen: nuguri & ailurus stream 🙏

You would’ve ignored it as you used to with all other streams, but your chat seems to flood the same question; there’s no escape even in the safety of your own channel. “Uh,” you scratch the back of your neck, “I didn’t really plan to stream with nuguri.”

nugunuguwho: He’s on stream right now!

“He is?” You bite the inside of your cheek as you type out his username on Twitch. His profile shows up, showing that he’s live, and you adjust your stream so that it shows your browser. Now, your audience can see that you’ve searched him up.

Once you click his stream, you are greeted with the words “DEFEAT” flashing on the screen. “Aish, fuck this game!” On the top left corner of the screen is your teammate, all dressed in a gray hoodie with hair messier than usual, and frames resting on the bridge of his nose. He leans back on his chair, tonguing the inside of his cheek out of frustration from losing a match.

The screen shifts to the match summary, showing that he’s currently 00RR in Ascendant 3. “Man, you would think that people in these ranks would at least understand to comm!” He then showcases his match history and—holy shit, it’s a red carpet. “Guys, it’s not looking good.”

You hide your smile behind the back of your hand. Although you make comments about how terrible of a player Sunwoo is, you would’ve never imagined him to be on such a horrendous losing streak.

(At the same time, it could be the fault of his teammates, but you weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. He’s an awful player, point blank.)

“Ailurus is on my stream?” You are snapped out of your thoughts as he mentions your gamer tag. “How do you know?” He scrunches his eyebrows as he reads the chat. “They’re streaming?”

You rush to close the window and frown at the camera. “I can’t believe you guys sold me out!” As you shake your head, you shift your stream back to the game. “I was trying to spy on him! Anyway, I’m going to queue up because I cannot have Sunwoo ruining my win streak.”

You’re about to queue into a game, hoping to end the discussion, but your eyes catch sight of a familiar name and you halt your movements.

nuguri: r u down to play?

It’s an internal battle—should you pretend you didn’t see Sunwoo’s message or should you fake your relationship with him?

Time ticks. The more you contemplate, the more you realize that you can’t play off that you saw his message in a sea of unfamiliar usernames. You’ve dug up your hole—there’s no turning back now.

“Okay, add my alt account.” Not a single mention of his name, and yet, your audience knows exactly who you’re talking to. The chat is filled with messages of excitement.

A friend request has been sent to you. “Is “sawako’s bf” your fucking alt?” Your gaze shifts to the chat, waiting for a message from Sunwoo.

nuguri: check discord

You roll your eyes before accepting his request on Valorant before opening up Discord. Another friend request has come in, and—is that a Smiski as his display picture? Your mouth parts open as you accept his request. Before you can shoot him a message, he calls you, and you don’t think twice before picking it up.

“I didn’t know you liked Smiskis,” you admit, surprised by the sight of the figurine. The sight of your profile picture, a Smiski from a different series, beside his photo is humorous—who would’ve thought that you two would match? “I didn’t even know you had another Discord account.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. “I mean, you just don’t look like the type you know? You reek of “loser e-boy that can’t do shit” energy.” As you hear him gasp, you chuckle.

Perhaps it helped to interact with Sunwoo in front of an audience. You can say diss him if you wanted, boiling it down to banter, and no one would question it.

“First off, I have a Discord account for work and another one for just personal use. And second, I am not a fuckass e-boy.” His defensive energy has you rolling your eyes. “Hey, I see you rolling your eyes!”

“The fuck? Get out of my stream,” you say as you glance at the camera. As you go back to Valorant, you see that you’re invited to Sunwoo’s party. Once you accept the invite, Sunwoo queues you both up for a Ranked match. “If we lose, I’m blaming it on you.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that I lost all my matches today.”

You bite on the inside of your cheek, holding back your laughter just in case he’s still watching your stream. “Okay, whatever you say. I know you only peaked Immortal 1.”

“Immortal 1 is a good rank! What are you trying to say?” A chuckle leaves him as he says those words, clearly knowing that he’s unfortunately not like you who is currently ranked at Immortal 2.

“I think you just want me to boost you.”

“Match found,” the announcer voices out. You are greeted by the opening screen of Sunset.

“Yeah, sorry. I’m down on my luck that I need someone to boost me.” Sarcasm is evident in his tone, and you can’t help but laugh. The screen then shifts to agent select. “What’s good, everyone?” A bad attempt at deep voice leaves Sunwoo as he talks to a team full of strangers.

You’re thrown back by the sudden tone shift, causing a giggle to leave you. “What the fuck was that?!”

“Go! Talk to the team.” You shake your head as if he can see you. (Maybe he’s still watching you, after all.) He hovers over Reyna before telling you, “It won’t hurt.”

The thing about you is that you would never talk to a team full of strangers, but you don’t think twice when you say, “I’m good,” before hovering over Omen.

“There we go!” He exclaims in your call. You try to hold back your grin.

Unfortunately, the moment doesn’t last long. “Didn’t you mean to hover over Sage?” A stranger on your team asks.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“Because you’re a woman.”

You should’ve seen this coming—there’s a reason why you don’t like to speak in this game.

“Just because I’m born a woman doesn’t mean I need to play that agent. I can play Skye if we need a healer,” you suggest, trying to keep your cool over what the stranger says.

“Nah, Skye might be too complex for you.”

You’re thinking if you should just lock in on Omen or retort, but both choices lead to an outcome where they’ll constantly be on your ass. Before you can make a decision, however, someone speaks.

“Hey, let them play whoever they want to play. You can play Sage if you really want,” Sunwoo cuts into the conversation, hoping to diffuse the situation. But when a chuckle leaves the stranger, you know it’s far from reaching that.

“Ah, I see how it is. How’s the head?”

You’ve officially reached your limit, and it seems Sunwoo has reached his as well. “This shit isn’t worth it,” Sunwoo ends the conversation with that. Before you know it, you’re back in the lobby, alone. “Sorry, I quit the game. Just give me a second to boot it up.”

As you hear those words, warmth surges within you. You don’t like your teammate at all and he’s never given you any reason to treat him with kindness, but just this one action is enough to make you see him in a different light—is he rotten to the core or have you been blinded this whole time?

Before you know it, he requests to join your party, and you accept the invite. When your eyes catch sight that he’s deranked to Ascendant 2, it hits you that he lost some RR just to avoid playing with the player who was giving you a hard time.

(Would it be bad to hope he did it for you?)

You hop in the queue to find another match.

It’s quiet for a moment; the mood has been ruined by some stranger on Valorant. Yet, Sunwoo seems to have something under his sleeve, a way to lift your spirit. “What if we pick each other’s agents?”

“This is a ranked match. You know that, right?”

Sunwoo lets out a groan. “I know that! But think about how fun it would be! We can play each other’s mains!”

“Do you really want to play Omen or Sova?” The screen then shows you’ll be playing on Pearl. “I thought you wanted to win some games.”

“Hey, I can definitely play those agents!” You roll your eyes over his words, clearly not believing him. “Let’s make it a competition. Whoever gets placed on top of the leaderboard wins, but you play Raze while I play Omen.”

A hum leaves you as you contemplate his proposal. “What’s the prize?”

“Well,” Sunwoo pauses, thinking over what can be done. “What if the winner gets their wish granted by the loser?”

“A wish? What type of wish?”

“Well, that’s for us to determine in our own time.”

You should’ve said no—why would you agree to such a bet with the one guy you can’t stand being in a room with? But the problem is that your pride is on the line, and you wanted to prove to Sunwoo that you could do his job better as a duelist.

So, you don’t think twice when you say, “Ah, fuck it. Let’s do it.”

You should’ve played Raze earlier on in your esports career. The match passes you like a breeze, entering and clearing sites and shots landing on your opponents every round. You don’t remember having this much fun playing Raze for the first time.

But somehow, the universe didn’t listen to your wishes—Sunwoo sits on the top of the leaderboard while you’re under him.

“Fuck! I only needed one assist and I would’ve beaten you.” As you complain, your teammate laughs.

“Ah, I wonder what I should have you do for me.”

You roll your eyes before looking at the time. “God, it’s that late already? I think I’m gonna end the stream already.”

“Yeah, me too. I’ll be back.” Before you know it, he deafens himself on Discord.

A sigh leaves you before you briefly look through the chat. “Sorry guys, I’m gonna end it early. I still need to pack my suitcase for Challengers next week.” There’s a mix of comments, ones that beg you to stay while others that thank you for today’s stream. “I’ll try to stream again before I leave but no promises. Bye, everyone! Hope you enjoy the rest of your days!”

With that, you end the stream. Another good stream out of you despite how short it was.

The most surprising thing to come out of this stream is that you were enjoying your time with Sunwoo. Whether it may be from the later hours of the day or just a front that he was putting up for the audience, you didn’t want to think too much of it. You’ll accept it for what it is now.

As you quit out of some of your applications, you look back at Discord to see that he’s back.

For a moment, it’s quiet. There’s an internal struggle within you—should you thank him for what he said earlier or not?

You didn’t want to call attention to the issue anymore. Unfortunately, you’ve had your fair share of experiences with misogyny throughout your life, and it pained you to say that this wasn’t the worst thing you’ve heard.

But he beats you to it, almost as if he was bothered by the silence, and says, “I’ll think about the wish for a bit, just want to think of my options.”

A groan rips out of you. “Don’t make me do anything stupid, please.”

He hums for a moment, almost as if he was considering your request, but you know who he is. “No guarantee! I’ll see you soon.”

Before you can retort, he ends the call. You stare blankly at your screen. If you thought Sunwoo was okay, you were absolutely wrong. He’s still a shithead.

But when you get in bed, you stare at the ceiling for a moment, and you can’t wipe off the grin that rests on your lips.

God, you need to sleep.

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sungbeam · 4 months

Text

𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫

artist!kevin moon x senator's daughter!reader

after a long night, you find yourself on the front doorstep of a man who's heart you still held tightly in your grasp.

4.0k words, exes 2 lovers?, bittersweet angst with a happy ending, kissing, swearing, mentions of arranged marriages and controlling parents, mentions of social class, it takes place in washington dc bc i had a specific place in mind lol but i've also only went to dc once(???)

a/n: dug this up and dusted off the cobwebs — originally inspired (partly) by youngk's cover of moon river <3 (im sorry i always give you angst kevin...)

It was late when you knocked on his door. It was so late, in fact, that the fog had begun to roll over the Potomac and dampen the cobblestones beneath your shoes. You would have taken off the death traps your mother called fashion, but you'd seen your friends on the rowing team get foot diseases before. The streetlights here glowed from their perches in golden yellow flames, not amber like they did in some parts of the district.

You hadn't really expected him to answer. You knew he was almost guaranteed to be awake, but there were always exceptions. You knew he would recognize you, too, but if he would open the door for you… it didn't matter that he was the kindest person you'd ever met, there were always exceptions.

His expression sat carefully blank when you faced him, a war brewing in his beautiful eyes of a long past you shared. He swallowed, scanning your form.

"I'm sorry," you managed to say. You suddenly felt stupid. Why were you here? Why had you run all the way across the river to his place in Georgetown? Why him? Out of all the people, you chose the one person who's heart you let fall to the ground and shatter. It was a miracle he even opened the door. "I—I didn't know who else to go to."

The bobby pins in your hair stabbed your head and intensified the headache building in your scalp. It had been a long night; you weren't sure if you were even of sound mind and thought right now.

Kevin Moon considered you for a moment, his eyes and posture softening at the lines. "Come in," he murmured as he stepped aside in the doorway, "it's late."

You swallowed as you took slow steps into his townhouse and he closed the front door behind you. Everything was as you had last seen it—pictures of him and his family, his friends; his artwork hung on the entryway walls; stair leading up to the upper floors, and hallway traveling back toward the parlor and kitchen. You could extract the memories that you had of this place, but that would keep you up the rest of the night. It would be a dangerous endeavor, you thought, as if coming to Kevin in the first place wasn't already.

"Here." He held out one toned arm for you to grasp. "So you can take off your shoes."

You gave a barely-there nod. "Oh, uhm, thank you," you said, locking your hand against his forearm as you swiftly discarded the stilettos from your feet. When your aching feet met flat ground, a weight fell from your shoulders, and you lined up the pair against the wall neatly by his shoe rack.

He began trekking up the stairs, beckoning you to follow. "You can have the guestroom," he sighed, carding a hand through his hair. It stuck up in the back, you noticed whilst following him up, which meant he had probably been tossing and turning for awhile.

Everything smelled the same, felt the same.

A different weight fell upon your chest, suffocating. Was it a mistake to come here? It was all coming back to you.

And he was opening the only other bedroom door besides his on the floor, leaving the door open for you to follow. He fluffed the pillows and pulled a blanket out from the closet shelf. This room used to be for guests, not for you, but that change was your fault.

"I'll grab you something to change into," he said in the silence with one hand cupped behind the back of his neck. He didn't look at you this time. "You still know where everything is?"

"Yeah," you rasped. You cleared your throat and held your clutch in front of yourself like a pitiful shield. "Thanks, Kevin. I… I promise I'll be out of your hair by the morning."

A beat passed. You felt his eyes on you and met them.

"Just—" his arm fell to his side and tucked into the pocket of his sweats, "—take your time, Yn. Good night."

You watched him leave. "Good night."

The house was quiet again after you finished washing up in the bathroom and retreated into the guest room. Kevin could hear the door close even from the third floor in his attic studio, his feet pressed against the cool wood, eyes staring out at the half-filled canvas on the easel. He'd been stuck for awhile, having not yet decided what he wanted to do with the rest of it. This indecisiveness came with the artist's block, unfortunately.

He didn't like to admit that one of the few ways to get him out were the dozens of canvases shoved against the far corner. There was a drop cloth draped over them so he wouldn't get distracted, but… most nights he couldn't resist.

There was always something soulful about the way he painted your eyes. It had always been that, and your smile, that he intentionally captured first whenever he painted your portrait. It was a greedy, selfish attempt to keep some part of you for himself because he knew that it was and could never be like that in the real world. He knew that fact all too well.

The vision of you on his porch tonight… he'd almost believed he was dreaming.

Kevin released a frustrated huff from his mouth, rubbing his hands down his face, then up through his hair. His brushes remained untouched, canvas on the easel left undone.

He stood from his stool and quietly made his way back down to the second floor.

He could've sent you away, he thought. He could've, but did he want to?—

"Oh. Hi."

His eyes shot up at the sound of your voice, meek and soft. You stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom with his T-shirt and sweatpants hanging from your frame like it was two years ago. He lost his breath for a second; he didn't think you were still awake. "Did I wake you?" He asked, clutching the banister.

"No," you said while leaning against the door jamb. "I was… I wasn't sleeping."

That made the both of you.

"You still have bandaids in the medicine cabinet?" You asked him.

He nodded, stepping down fully onto the second floor. "Yeah. How many did you need?" He shoved the intrusive thoughts away from the forefront of his mind and replaced them with the idea of bandages. He padded over into the bathroom, turning the light on to rifle through the medicine cabinet.

Never mind that you knew where they were and that you were capable of getting them yourself—he already lost when he let you into his house.

You slipped in behind him. "Just a couple small ones is okay—for my feet."

Oh, right. He'd nearly forgotten you must have traveled all the way from across the river to get here in those god awful shoes. Not only that, but no doubt spent an entire night in them at some stuck-up, rich-prick gala—

Not now, he hushed. Most of the time, it was never your choice to even go to those functions.

He withdrew the box of Band-Aids he kept, all beat up from years of figuring out where they belonged. There was a mishmash of sizes, but most of the medium-sized ones were all gone, leaving only the extreme sizes on the spectrum. He picked out a few of the small ones for you, staring at the tile on the floor while you sat on the lid of the toilet to cover your blisters and bruises.

“I know that my showing up here unannounced was really unfair to you,” you suddenly said. He raised his head a little. You were grabbing your heel now, gently massaging your foot. “Especially at this time of night. I—” You paused, “I just—I’m sorry.”

If he didn't think about it too much, he could pretend this apology was only about you showing up unannounced, out of the blue, at an ungodly hour, and not about every other elephant in the room.

“It's okay, I understand,” he murmured. He felt his body move to settle on the edge of the bathtub across from you to take your foot from your hand to rub soothing circles into your aching bones.

You connected gazes again and he saw the flicker of gratitude in them, and something else he didn't want to see. Hope was so cruel sometimes. “You don't have to do this.”

“I know. I want to.”

It felt like college all over again, just you and him. Those four years had been some of the best years of his life—but they were filled with naïve bliss. The long, humid summer days and nights along the river; the golden light filtering through his windows as you read and he painted; the picnics on the Georgetown University lawns; the echo of your laughter against cobblestone walls and streets.

They were engraved into his memory, even with the rose-tinted lenses off.

He would call it a fever dream, but he knew you were solid and real when he held you. Your smile was real, your love was palpable. He could hear your humming in his kitchen in the evenings and feel the ghost of your arms around him in the mornings.

When you were called away by your family to fulfill filial obligations, you would always return home to him. Not them, him.

In this moment, he knew exactly what he was doing, even if he chose to pretend he didn't. Like this wouldn't lead to his heart getting broken again when all that was left of you in the morning was your perfume on his clothes and bandaid wrappers in the trash.

“So what was tonight about?” He piped up, daring another glance at you.

You shook your head. “You don't have to—”

“Only if you're comfortable.” Sometimes it helped for you to talk about it, and sometimes it didn't. He wanted to help, nonetheless. He still cared about you, after all.

You wrestled down a swallow. “It was some dumb charity that wasn't even about the charity,” you rasped, returning your bare feet to the floor when he was done rubbing the hurt away. You had to look away, and he resisted the urge to turn your chin back to him. “And something about—something about marriage.”

His heart fell to the bathroom tiles. “What?”

Marriage?

“It—it’s nothing—”

“Nothing,” he repeated, speechless.

“Not nothing,” you amended, tripping over your words. You shouldn't have mentioned it. Why would you mention it? Out of everyone, you and to say it to him. “My parents mentioned something about it, but it's just one of those things where they're urging me to start looking. I don't know. It's not arranged or anything.”

He said exactly what both of you were thinking, “Yet.”

You looked at him then. He saw the way silver lined your eyes, the hurt threatening to spill over just like what pounded against the floodgates of his heart. Yet.

If you waited any longer, who knew what your parents would do to secure a political alliance? You were a Senator's daughter, your family's jewel and pawn piece. You were born to be someone Kevin couldn't be with and god-fucking-damn did that hurt like a bitch.

They were giving you time to make your own, careful choice. It was an illusion of free will that made him seethe and ache for you.

“It's gonna be fine,” you said with little to no strength behind the words. “I'll be fine.”

Kevin stared at you. You and he had shared plenty of arguments about this exact topic before and it all ended in the same place. He didn't know what to say this time to make you say or think or do differently.

What could he possibly say to make you stay? To make you rethink your entire life and career, to make you turn your back on your own family?

“I'm sorry I said anything about this.” You sighed. “I don't know why I said anything about this.”

He swallowed. “I asked in the first place; it's okay.” His hands yearned to touch your skin, to swaddle you in his arms and rock you into assurance. He missed when he could reach over and warm your knee with his palm to silently tell you he was here and listening.

“We should try to sleep. I've taken so much of your time already. I'm sor—”

“Yn, love, stop saying you're sorry.” You didn't ask for any of this and you kept acting like you did, like it was your fault. He couldn't fault you for anything if he tried.

It looked like you were about to say something to him. He could practically taste the words that sat on your tongue.

Tell me I'm not suffering alone. Tell me that you still love me, even after all this time.

Instead, you nodded while rubbing your eye. “Okay,” you exhaled. “Thanks for the bandaids and your time.”

When you stood, so did he. He pressed a warm palm to the small of your back to lead you out of the bathroom, his other hand hitting the light switch.

He reluctantly drew his hand away from you to step towards his own bedroom.

He heard you stop, his head pathetically raising to meet you as you turned around.

“Kevin, I…” There it was again.

Oh, he wanted so badly for you to say it. But it was late and neither of you were in the right state of mind.

“Sleep on it,” he whispered. He couldn't handle any of those words exchanged now if you were going to regret it later. “Please.”

You inclined your head, lips pressing together. “Good night.”

“Good night,” he said back, for the second time tonight, and for as many opportunities as he was granted. As long as he didn't have to say goodbye instead.

Sleep refused to take you and you tossed and turned for what felt like hours. Two long hours of torture, and you gave up, throwing the sheets off your body to step over to the window. The street below was dark with only a small halo of golden light from a street lamp to provide some reprieve from the darkness. You'd always seen this back street from Kevin's bedroom, never this one. It was so odd seeing it from a different point of view.

You closed your eyes with a sigh and rested your forehead against the cool glass. What were you doing here? Why were you troubling a man who you'd already troubled before? Your being here had to be bad for the both of you, but why did your being here feel right instead? You could separate comfort from rightness anymore, couldn't find where the line was in the sand because maybe you had danced all over it before to muddle it up.

Maybe you didn't want to define it—you just wanted it to be him.

You would never forget this moment, standing with your eyes closed against a cold window pane, that you came to an understanding. You had little to no sleep in your system, but your heart hurt as much as your feet, and while there were plenty of ways to soothe sore feet, there weren't as many to heal a broken heart.

Maybe a glass of water would refresh you enough to fall asleep. It would be terrible of you to wake him up, especially when you'd bothered him this much. He had already done so much for you.

But you'd seen him just hours ago, and you'd seen the tenderness in his gaze, felt the tenderness in his touch.

The way he'd asked for you to “sleep on it” had been loaded with something. Hope was so cruel sometimes.

Your chest tightened and you pulled away from the window. You stepped over to the door to quietly open it and slip out. There was no light coming out from beneath Kevin's bedroom door, and you tiptoed across the landing to make your way downstairs.

When you'd successfully retrieved a glass of water, you climbed back up the stairs, only to freeze at the sight of Kevin stepping up onto the ones leading up to the attic. Your heart galloped at the sight of him.

“I hope I didn't wake you up,” you whispered this time, gesturing to the cup of water in your hand. “I just needed some water.”

He nodded. “Don't worry about it. Can't sleep still?” He asked.

You shook your head. Not even if you tried.

He seemed to understand, and with a sweep of his hand through his hair, he beckoned you up to the third floor with him.

You hadn't been up to the attic for as long as you had been away from Kevin. It was his studio space, somewhere he could let his creativity run wild. There were canvases pressed and stacked up against the slanted roof, paint cans and boxes of brushes off to the side, and the chaise lounge you always draped yourself over when the sun filtered in just right. It was the perfect spot to curl up with a good book, and you could feel its cushioned back imprinted against yours even now.

The memories all flooded back in one, big tidal wave and your hand tightened around your cup.

“Are you working on anything?” You asked quietly, lingering at the stair landing to sip your water. You feared you weren't allowed to venture further, as if you needed permission to wander now.

He glanced back at you from his easel stool, forehead creasing between his brows when he saw you still standing there. “Yn, you can sit,” he said, nodding to the chaise lounge. “Not really,” he confessed. “I just… I've been in a block, I guess.”

You crept over to the lounge chair and seated yourself on the edge, stiff and with your legs crossed one over the other. You leaned your forearms onto your knees, looking in the direction of Kevin, his body half blocked by the wooden easel. “Ah, I see,” you murmured. “Have you had trouble sleeping lately?”

His eyes flickered to yours. “It's… on and off. You?”

“Same.” Your mind went to what you thought about in the guest bedroom earlier. Would it be out of left field to spring it up on him? You didn't even know if he felt the same way anymore, but… but you had to try, didn't you?

Why did you come to him? Out of all the people and places in this city, your feet carried you here.

“I—” Both of you said at once, eyes clashing when you realized the other's voice was speaking.

“You first,” he said.

You shook your head. “No, please. I—I think you should go first.”

He seemed to hesitate, but relented. There was so much emotion in the way he looked at you then; the wideness of his eyes gave it all away. “Why are you here, Yn? Why are you really here?”

It was like he could read your mind. You knocked back the rest of your water and placed the empty cup on the floor a little ways from your feet so you didn't knock it over. “I,” you began, “I don't… at least, I don't consciously know.”

He pursed his lips together. “Do better than that. I know you can.”

You knew he was right; you could do better. You knew the truth, but it was a matter of how much courage you had to face it. “Kevin, I—I should've never let you go that easy, and I should've never let my judgment be swayed by my parents as it had. I'm so sorry for hurting you; you never deserved it. You never deserved any of it.

“I think,” you said, one hand grabbing your other shoulder, “after all this time, I still know who I want, and it's never been anyone but you. That's why—that’s why I'm here.” You wished you could shrink into yourself with his gaze pinned to you like it was. “And this is all so unfair to you—I know. I know it is, and I am so, so sorry.”

You would bear your entirety to him in hopes that he believed you and saw your sincerity. Because while your parents had raised you to be their perfect daughter, they missed the part when you fell hopelessly in love with your best friend from college. It tore you apart that day they forced you to part ways with him—you knew it did just the same to him, too.

Kevin was quiet for a moment with a pensive expression on his face burning into his floorboards. He suddenly stood and made his way over to you, your body shifting to make room for him on the chaise. The pair of you sat side by side with your shoulders and legs pressed against each other, sharing the other's warmth.

“I don't blame you if you're bitter,” you said. “I would be, too. And you can kick me out if that makes you feel better, because I…”

“Don't say it's because you deserve it.”

You tilted your gaze over to him.

He shook his head. “You don't deserve it. You hurt me, yes, but I know why you did it and I can't blame you for it, no matter how hard I try.” He turned his gaze up to the ceiling for a moment. “Sometimes I wish I had been born in a different position so neither of us would have to hurt so much.”

Your chest ached.

“It's not your fault,” you said. “Kevin, it was never your fault.”

His smile curled into something somber as his hand reached over to thumb your cheek. “I know it's not. And it's not yours either.”

For a moment, his hand lingered, and you let it.

“Don't marry someone else,” he said so quietly you thought you'd imagined it. But there was that tenderness in his eyes then, loving and imploring, and you knew you hadn't just kidded yourself.

His hand went to cup the side of your face. “I can't—” he swallowed, “I can't stomach that thought. I love you too much to see you unhappy.” His words were slurring together, voice watery, as he attempted to cover it up by pressing his lips to your hairline.

“I love you so much it hurts,” you told him in earnest. “Of course I'd run back here to you. It's always been you.” No amount of parental control could change that. They could never choose who you fell in love with when your heart was yours to give.

Kevin shifted to press his lips against yours, soft and cautious, giving you the space to back out. You reciprocated though, hands coming up to cup his face. And as you kissed, a sense of comfort settled over you, something akin to contentment, like knowing this was where you were meant to be. All the worries and heartache melted away for one split second of bliss that you found in a man whom you loved too much to let go.

His nose gently bumped against yours, his thumb caressing your cheekbone affectionately. “I love you. You can break my heart when you leave in the morning, but let me have this at least.”

“You can have this, and you can have me,” you said, nodding against him. You were going to fight this time; you would fight until you bled because you would be damned if you let him go so easily a second time. “You've always had me.”

a/n: i have to be up early tmr as usual... but i hope u didn't get bored by all the wordiness sjfbdkdn

tbz m.list

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @justalildumpling @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @outrologist @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @kflixnet

#kflixnet #deoboyznet #the boyz x reader #kevin moon x reader #moon hyungseo x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz fanfic #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshot #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #kevin moon imagines #kevin moon oneshots #kevin moon drabbles #kevin moon scenarios #kevin moon angst

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winterchimez · 5 months

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🔎 — the 007 files

James Bond—or rather, the public was more aware that his code name, agent 007, has been working behind the scenes for decades now. imagine this: what if the agent 007 that you have come to know of was actually more than just one person? what if the famous group The Boyz were all agent 007 working under M16. buckle up as you access M16's top secret operative files, aka the most famous missions these individual agents have succeeded in.

A/N: why hello my fellow readers! i present to you a tbz x 007 cross-over collab series!! i've had this idea for a while now and thanks to @sungbeam who gave me the genius idea of hosting an open collab (and co-planning with me) for this!! i'm so so excited and i really hope this doesn't flop lmao 😭 so yes, please feel free to join the fun! 😉

🔎 STARRING: the boyz x f!reader/oc // g.n!reader/oc

🔎 GENRE: crime, angst, fluff, crack, suggestive, smut (only for 18+ writers!!), assorted pairings (more to be added)

🔎 WARNINGS: will be stated in each respective files!

RULES & REGULATIONS:

↬ choose a tbz member & a bond film to start off! you may write the story loosely based on the storyline of the film/a certain scene(s) inspired by the film itself! or alternatively, write it based on the themed song for the specific film you have chosen! (eg: sangyeon - the spy who loved me)

↬ slots will be first come first served! in total there will be 11 slots for 11 members

↬ only tbz member x reader / tbz member x oc!! no tbz member x member for this

↬ as mentioned above, writers will have the option to choose to either write a female/gender neutral reader/oc!

↬ minimum wc would be 1k, and there's no maximum so feel free to write as much as you'd like! pls include a "read more" feature after your summaries/genre/warnings/word count/a.n.

↬ you are allowed to write any genre you like! pls make sure you're over 18+ if you wish to include smut in your work.

↬ no sensitive topics will be allowed (eg: su*c*de, r*pe, r*cism, etc.)

↬ i will be making a discord gc for easier access, updates, and even brainstorming with one another! it will also help me loads with any announcements i will be making. joining in would be highly encouraged (though if you choose not to that's totally fine by me, just keep me regularly updated in my dms!)

↬ the project will officially kick start off on December 1st 2023, and you will have till March 31st 2024 to complete your work! if ever you wish to drop out / need a bit more time to publish your work pls do let me know!!

↬ fill out this google form to secure your place in this collab :) (key: shaken not stirred)

↬ lastly, reblog this post, @ me in your fics & use the hashtag 🔎 — the 007 files in your works!!

FILES:

Lee Sangyeon — The Spy Who Loved Me @winterchimez

Jacob Bae — The World Is Not Enough @snowflakewhispers

Kim Younghoon — Goldfinger @daisyvisions

Lee Hyunjae — Skyfall @kkinou

Lee Juyeon — For Your Eyes Only @juyeonszn

Kevin Moon

Choi Chanhee — No Time To Die @maessseongs

Ji Changmin — Casino Royale @sungbeam

Ju Haknyeon

Kim Sunwoo — On Her Majesty's Secret Service @kimsohn

Eric Sohn — From Russia With Love @cloverdaisies

#🔎 — the 007 files #kpop collab #the boyz #tbz #the boyz x reader #tbz x reader #the boyz collab #tbz collab #the boyz crime #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #the boyz suggestive #the boyz smut #the boyz x 007 au #tbz x 007 au #james bond 007 #james bond au #007 au

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stealanity · 2 months

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playlist one , the boyz ( cch to src ) :

⠀

ꕤ choi chanhee ,

the so-called boyfriend ( smau , hiatus )

better

yarrow

cry for me

strawberry flavor

⠀

[ 8:42pm ]

[ 10:42pm ]

[ 11:12pm ]

[ 5:25am ]

⠀

ꕤ ji changmin ,

you did well

lying eyes

first love

dream of you

dream of you ( part two )

⠀

[ 10:32pm ]

[ 2:24am ]

[ 6:17am ]

[ 6:14pm ]

⠀

ꕤ ju haknyeon ,

our secret little date

⠀

[ 12:24pm ]

[ 8:23pm ]

[ 9:36pm ]

⠀

ꕤ kim sunwoo ,

color palette ( smau , finished )

game over ( ft. eric , written serie , discontinued )

you're save

late night kiss

a to z being your boyfriend

old toy

new toy

ghost train

just friends

easier

unashamedly

⠀

[ 3:47am ]

[ 3:45am ]

[ 9:45pm ]

[ 6:38pm ]

[ 11:57pm ]

[ 11:25pm ]

⠀

ꕤ sohn eric ,

endless race ( smau , finished )

game over ( ft. sunwoo , written serie , discontinued )

age of love

broken night

never be you

roulette to your heart

because of you

black hair & red lipstick

all over

one bed

birthday present(s)

⠀

[ 3:22pm ]

[ 2:56pm ]

[ 2:24pm ]

[ 2:04am ]

⠀

ꕤ ot-eleven ,

sorry, for breaking your heart ( written serie , hiatus )

kiss or kill? ( one shot )

the boyz as the vamps' songs

october 19 : international kiss your crush day

kiss their s/o for the first time

their s/o asking them for one last kiss

their s/o having a habit of sitting on their lap

their s/o being drunk

their s/o cutting their hair short

their s/o holding hands when they're anxious / clingy

their crush not being touchy

always having an extra scrunchie for their s/o

watching a horror movie with their s/o

sharing a bed with their s/o for the first time

accidently outing their relationship on vlive

⠀

. . . link to hyung line !

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sanaxo-o · 2 months

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Heartbeat Pounding (Lee Sangyeon)

Warnings: cursing, friends to lovers (kind of) fluff, very cute, Sangyeon just being the best man out there. Nothing else I can think of but lemme know if I should add anything ;)

Word count: 2,274

Sana: hiii so like a very cutesy fic for Sangyeon is here and tagging my Sangyeon enthusiast @winterchimez (hope you’re doing well hon) and @strayed-quokka <3 hope you both enjoy this small piece of mine hehe.

Taglist: @kimsohn @cloverdaisies @mosviqu @mars101

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Heaving out a long sigh you keep staring out the window with your thoughts all jumbled up. Who would have thought or guessed that a small date like this would mess you up so bad??

You just thought that going on a date a few days before your birthday would be a great idea. It would help you socialise more but instead you were now in this depressive slump because of that jerk of a date.

Throwing your head back in anger you let out a frustrated groan as you mess up your already messy hair.

That date was such a jerk, you should have known about that the moment you entered the restaurant. The more time you spent with that jerk the more you realised, he was single for a reason and that’s clearly showing.

Not only was he belittling other women he dated but he had the audacity to think that they were the problem in the relationship when he clearly was the one.

Rolling your eyes, you stand up from your place and go towards your doorway to open the door for your friend Sangyeon.

You have known him since you both were in middle school, he knew almost no cut that he knew everything about you.

Yes, there were times when you would think what it would be like to date him, have him as your life partner but they remained as thoughts within would be left unanswered and unknown.

No matter how close you are with him, no way in hell are you going to risk ruining your friendship with him over a stupid crush or attraction you had towards him when you were young.

“What are you doing here?” You ask him as soon as you open the front door and lean against the wall so that he can enter the house.

“Oh, nothing. I am here to pick you up.” You hear him say from the kitchen as you sit down on the couch comfortably as you wrap yourself in a huge blanket to keep your body warm.

“Pick me up? I am not going anywhere though..” you say in confusion as you lift your blanket up when you see Sangyeon walking back towards you with a glass of juice in his hands.

“Oh we’re going out..” he says softly as he gets in the blanket and makes sure to tuck you both in it tightly.

Placing his hands on your shoulders he lets you snuggle close towards him as if it was not a big deal.

I mean it wasn’t, being close with each other like this was a normal occurrence when it comes to the two of you. So you don’t know why it feels so different suddenly.

“Going where?” You ask, your voice coming out mumbled as your head was placed on the crook of his neck. You could feel Sangyeon’s soothing hand patting your head gently which made you feel better than before.

“Oh that’s for you to find out. Now get up and go get ready, will ya?” He says as he pulls your head away from him and makes you stand up.

Scowling at him you throw him a glare as you walk away from him and go into your room to get ready.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

“For how long are we gonna be here for?” You ask with boredom as you let out a small sigh with your cheeks puffed out because of tiredness.

“Till your mood gets better..” Sangyeon says as he chuckles when he sees you rubbing your eye, “What’s wrong, hmm?” Sangyeon asks once he notices that you were still rubbing your eyes with your hand.

“I think something got in my eye..” you whisper as you continue rubbing your eye. You could feel it sting and burn but you could not help but keep on rubbing it.

“Here, let me see.” You hear Sangyeon say as he takes a hold of your hand and pulls them away from your eye.

He lets out a sigh in concern when he notices your eyes turning red. Grabbing a hold onto your cheeks he makes you look up slightly as he blows air in your eyes hoping it would help.

“Come with me. Let’s wash your eyes..” he says softly as he grabs your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours as he drags you towards the washroom.

Entering the washroom he stands in front of the basin and turns on the faucet, “Wait, let me tie your hair back..” he says in a hurry, taking your hair tie from your hand he gently pulls your hair back in his hands as he strokes them carefully trying not to pull them.

Tying your hair back he makes sure it’s tight but not tight enough to hurt your scalp or pull them too hard.

“Good?” Sangyeon asks softly as he walks towards the basin again and turns on the faucet. “Bring your face here..” he says softly as he helps you wash your eyes.

Grabbing a hold of your neck he gently brought it closer to the water, washing your face with the water he made sure your eyes got better.

Turning off the faucet, he grabbed a few tissues and tapped them on your face, careful to not mess up your makeup which was not much but in his eyes you looked pretty either way.

“Feeling any better?” He asks softly as he removes your hair tie gently and fixes your hair for you.

Nodding your head you give him a small smile. You could feel your smile widening when he grabs your hand and starts walking ahead.

“Where do you want to go first?? The arcade or the toy store?” Sangyeon asks once you were on the escalator going on the second floor.

“Why would we want to go to the toy store?” You ask in confusion as you stare up at Sangyeon. You noticed him give you a grin as he messed up your hair slightly.

“To buy you a stuffed you, of course. We will just go to the toy store and get you a stuffed toy, yeah?” He says once you guys reach the second floor.

You just shake your head knowing there’s no way he’s going to listen to you if you say no.

Reaching the toy store you both stroll around the shop abit when you come across a plush toy of Sylveon.

You had liked that Pokémon since you were a kid, it was one of the eighth evolutions of Eevee.

Picking it up you checked the price only to place it back down, it was expensive and you did not want Sangyeon to pay so much over a stuffed animal just because you like it.

Walking away from there you fail to notice when Sangyeon himself takes the toy in his hand and goes towards the counter to buy it.

“Do you like anything?” You hear Sangyeon whisper behind you, flinching as you drop the small stuffed animal of a panda which was placed in a bamboo.

“Hmm, this panda stuffed animal..” you say as you show him the one which was in your hand.

“You like it? Then let’s buy it..” saying that he snatched the animal from your hand and walked away to pay at the counter again.

Skipping your way out of the shop you look back at Sangyeon when you notice the paper bag in his hand.

“What’s in that?” You mutter in confusion as you try to take a peek inside only for Sangyeon to hide it behind his back.

“Nothing, let’s go to the food court to buy some food for you. You must be hungry after walking the whole day, yeah?” He says that as he walks away with fast steps leaving you behind as you just stare at his back in confusion.

—x—

Settling down on the table you keep staring at the paper bag which was in front of you. You knew Sangyeon took notice of that but he chose not to speak on it knowing how stubborn you can get, “Just tell me what’s in the bag..” you say as you shake his arm which was holding a piece of pizza.

“No way, it’s a secret. Now let me eat my food in peace.” He says with a scowl as he continues eating the pizza with a smile on his face.

You knew he was enjoying your distressed behaviour over wanting to know what’s in the bag but it’s for you so you’re gonna know about it sooner or later so that’s what matters.

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

“Ah, I am so tired. I am gonna head off to bed. You can leave or stay over.” You tell him as you remove your coat and place it on the couch.

Not having the energy to place it on the hanger properly, you just leave the living room and go in your room.

You could hear Sangyeon nagging at your untidy behaviour from the living room but you just rolled your eyes. Being used to this at this point.

Getting under the covers you cover your body with your thick blanket which has been a source of comfort for you, it was gifted to you by Sangyeon so of course you would never let go of it even when it’s old and rough.

“Are you sleeping?” You hear a small, gentle voice ask from your door. You knew it was Sangyeon but you kept your eyes closed waiting for him to continue with what he was about to do.

“Okay good, you will probably see this once you wake up so I will just place this here beside you..” he talks to himself as he places a stuffed toy between your arms.

Peeking one of your eyes open you could feel your heart warming up to his kind gesture once you process the fact that it was in fact the Sylveon stuffed animal you had your eye on.

“I hope you hold this stuffed toy I bought for you whenever you feel down…” he whispers as he pats your forehead in a rhythmic manner.

You could feel your cheeks turning up in a smile but you tried your best to hide it. You could not believe that Sangyeon still remembers this small thing you like.

It must have been long ago when you mentioned in a conversation that you liked when people would pat your forehead in rhythm. It would help you calm down and feel better. You never thought that Sangyeon paid such close attention to it but now you.

“I hate that guy you went on a date with, the way he made you feel made me upset. Well I was also upset over the fact that I did not take you on a date but what can I say? I am a coward like that.” He says with a chuckle as he stops patting your head. “I like you…I like you Y/N..I have liked you since the moment I saw you dating that guy in high school. I thought of confessing to you a numerous times but I always backed out last minute. I was afraid, you know? Afraid that you might reject me or I might just not reach your standards. I was scared that I might lose this friendship we have built over the years over my feelings. I don’t want that..you’re probably the only friend I have kept in touch with and I am glad I did because I don’t know what I might do without you in my life Y/N..” he says in a hushed voice as he leans down and gives your forehead a small kiss, “I love you Y/N, I always have and I always will.” Saying that you hear him close the door.

Clutching onto your chest you let yourself breathe again. Looking back at the closed door you heard Sangyeon close your main door.

‘Think fast stupid. It’s now or never’ saying that in your mind you immediately get out of the bed and dash out of the house with the Sylveon plush clutched tightly in your hands.

“Sangyeon! Wait!” You scream at the top of your lungs when you see Sangyeon walking out of the complex. You knew tomorrow morning a complaint would be at your door the first thing in the morning but that was your least of your worries at the moment.

“Y/N? What are you still doing up? I thought you were sleeping?” Sangyeon mutters under his breath but you catch onto it quickly.

“I heard what you said..” you said once you were standing in front of him, “You idiot…I..I like you too..” you mutter as you take another step closer to him.

“I knew I liked you but I just could not accept the fact that I was liking my own best friend. I was in that denial for too long..I tried everything. I tried to distance myself from you so that my feelings don’t grow but in return it hurted both of us. I tried to bury my feelings away by dating but none of them felt right and most of the dates turned out to be huge jerks anyways…” you say with a chuckle as you take a hold of sangyeon’s hand in yours.

“I think it’s about time we give this new relationship of ours a chance..” you say with a smile adorning your face.

You could hear your heartbeat, it was pounding so loud that it reached till your ears. You were pretty sure Sangyeon heard it too.

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wolflowers · 3 months

Text

୨ ୧ ̩ new ⎯⎯ lockscreens

79 notes · View notes

itsbeeble · 4 months

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LET LOOSE

SUMMARY: Younghoon has hated you since the day he met you. He thought you were stuck up with that better-than-you princess attitude of yours. What better than to just…fuck it right out of you?

GENRE: smut, fluff, angst, crack

PAIRING: Kim Younghoon x afab!reader (ft. eric)

WC: 5.3K

SERIES MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: Swearing, public sex, floor sex, academic rivals that everyone knows secretly want to fuck, enemies to lovers, missionary (that's a first wow), sexual references, mentions of alcohol, insults (not sexual), arguments, pining, mentions of killing someone as a joke, dry humping for like two seconds, making out, mentions of marking, mentions of oral, guys i think this is the least slutty fic I've written for this series, y/n is stuck in a perpetual state of denial, let me know if I missed anything but i think that's it

A/N: Everyone allow me to introduce Doll's less-slutty cousin!! I can't believe we're over halfway through this collab omg. I'm really glad people are loving this and I hope you guys have been catching the easter eggs me and Fawn have been throwing into our fics 😏

If anyone asked you what you thought of when you thought of local star student, heartthrob, and frat boy Kim Younghoon, you would scoff and cross your arms over your chest.

“I hate him,” you would say, your lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed until they were practically touching. “I hope his house burns to the fucking ground.”

One would think this was a gross overreaction, that you probably held a grudge over something stupid, or that he killed your dog or maybe he copied off your essay but made it seem like you were the one who plagiarized. And oh, how that would’ve been much simpler.

The true story, however, goes all the way back—

“Thinking about me again?” A hand cracks down on the desk in front of you, your mind and body jerking back to reality.

There he is, you think to yourself, the bane of my fucking existence. Your teeth are already grinding together, your grip tightening around the pencil you’d been using to write your notes and all he’s doing is standing there with a stupid fucking smirk.

“Why would I be thinking of you?” You bite out and Younghoon places a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

“Ouch, sweetheart.” Your body stiffens and your face contorts with disgust at the nickname.

“Don’t call me that, douchebag.” Younghoon sighs dramatically, dropping down to be at eye level with you.

“So cruel to me,” a pout, and then he’s smirking again. “What if I was into that, sweetheart?”

You might throw up.

“What do you want?” you groan, noting how other students have begun to flood out of the lecture hall while you’re putting your things away. Younghoon shrugs, rising to his feet at the same time as you. Had you been a weaker woman, his height would’ve had your knees wobbling and your panties hitting the ground but, fortunately, you were a strong woman. Some of your friends couldn’t relate to that despite your very clear and very much valid hatred for him.

“I just wanted to see what you were up to,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, rocking back onto his heels. “Considering that we’re now partners for this assignment.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, your eyes widen, and your cheeks are fighting between going pale and burning bright as a tomato.

“What are you— what do you mean we’re partners?” You echo, and his smirk only widens. Your shoulder bashes into his arm while you make your way to the front of the lecture hall where the list of partners is posted. He trails behind you, long legs making it easy to keep pace despite how impossibly fast you seem to walk.

“Aren’t you so excited?” He sounds too excited about this, and you have to physically stop yourself from grabbing him by the neck and choking him where he stands. “We get to work together for the whole semester!”

“I still don’t see how this is a problem,” Dawon tells you her tongue running over her lip as she watches you pace the length of your dorm suite’s lounge area. “Isn’t he, like, super hot? And smart?”

Your lip curls into a sneer and you whip your body around to look at her.

“He is not hot,” your voice has raised in pitch, your arms waving frantically. “He’s— he’s stupid and— and annoying, and he doesn’t know how to shut up, and his face— oh his face is just so— so—”

“Kissable?” Suyeon offers when she makes her way over with a steaming mug of tea.

“I think rideable is a better word,” Dawon grins at the way your jaw drops at the two of them.

“He does have a very rideable—”

“Okay, enough!” You snap, your face beginning to burn bright red in anger.

“Ooh she’s blushing!” Suyeon giggles and your face only burns brighter.

“You both are insufferable,” you throw yourself back onto the couch, your head turned toward the ceiling. “Kim Younghoon is annoying, stuck up, and his face is not kissable or rideable.”

“So you’re saying you’ve thought about it before?” Suyeon presses and you roll your eyes.

“Hell no. Why would I think about that?”

“Because he’s your mortal enemy and everyone ends up fucking their mortal enemy at some point.”

“Plus he’s a yummy, scrumptious, daddy cupcake.”

“Ugh, so true Dawon.” Suyeon squeezes your roommate’s hand, the two of them grinning deviously at each other.

“That’s— did you just call him— No, that’s not the point. The point is, that’s not true!” You lift your head, eyes wide with horror. “That only happens in books!”

“Not just books,” Suyeon raises her mug to her lips with a hint of a smirk on her face. “Didn’t you hear about the KAT and TBZ presidents?”

“Oh my god, Eric told me about that!” Dawon gasps. “Apparently they—”

“I don’t need to know the details of their sex lives.” You interrupt again. “God, you two are just…”

“Don’t you just love us?” Dawon winks at you, and you wrinkle your nose in distaste.

“Let’s not go that far.” Her lips twist, and the three of you go quiet for a moment.

“Why do you even hate him?”

Ah, there it is. The same question everyone had been asking since the day you started at this school.

Why do you hate Kim Younghoon?

“It’s complicated,” you tell them what you always say. You tell them that it’s nothing they should be concerned about. He knows what he did.

“Then uncomplicate it.” Suyeon is much softer than Dawon, her eyes furrowed but not with the mild irritation Dawon has. It’s more…concern than anything else, and for a moment you think about telling them. Think about dropping your petty act, let them know exactly what about Younghoon bothers you so much.

You open your mouth, and the two girls in front of you lean forward expectantly, practically on the edge of the tiny couch that had been squeezed into the suite.

“I can’t.”

“That isn’t going to work, sweetheart.” Younghoon says, waltzing up to you after your failed attempt to talk your professor into letting you change partners or work alone. Your shoulders are slumped in defeat, something that Younghoon seems to laugh at. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I really hate you, Kim Younghoon.” You lift your head, wanting so desperately to glare at him but you can only find the strength to stare blankly. He kisses his teeth, eyebrows furrowing.

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

“Who cares? It’s true.”

You want to scream. You want to throw your body onto the ground and throw a tantrum, to cry and whine, to kick and punch the air—anything to get out of this situation.

“All this because I got a better grade than you in one class in high school.” Younghoon shakes his head, his hair falling into his face and obscuring his eyes partially. Your heart thuds against your ribcage (because of the memory, obviously).

“You really think that’s the only reason I hate you?” Hint: he’s right for once. Would you ever tell him that? No. As far as he knows, you have endless reasons to hate him. As long as he lives, that list will grow. In fact, it would be better if he knew that you’d be pissed if he died before you because that means he tried to escape one last competition, but you’d hate it even more if he died after you because that means he would win one last time.

“That’s all I can think of,” he shrugs and you kiss your teeth.

“Disappointing me again, douchebag.” He scoffs at that.

“Of course I am. When am I not upsetting you about some bullshit?”

Oddly, this time you don’t answer him. At least you don’t give him an answer to that question.

“Listen, Kim Younghoon,” you place a hand on your hip, shifting your weight to lean mostly on one leg. He leans toward you a bit, slightly angling his head as if trying to hear you better. “You’re the most annoying, egotistical, snobbish boy I’ve ever met. You always have this, like, need to be better than me— than everyone.”

Younghoon inhales, his eyebrows knitting together and his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. You can see the irritation in his gaze, can see him fighting the urge to snap at you and it has your stomach churning. When he finally responds, it’s not exactly what you expected. You thought he would snap back at you, tell you to go fuck yourself, to call you the same insults you just called him.

He doesn’t.

“Meet me in the library at 4 o’clock.” Your head jerks back, your nose wrinkling with confusion.

“Excuse me?” Younghoon just smiles coyly, already turning away from you.

“Don’t you wanna get this project done so you don’t have to deal with me?” He can practically see the wheels turning in your brain, contemplating all your options.

“I mean yeah, but how do you know if I’m even free—”

“You’re always at the cafe at the same time as me,” Younghoon glances down at you, stepping to the side as he pushes open the door of the lecture hall. You say nothing as you push by him. “I’m starting to think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart.”

“That’s not— I would never— how—” You sputter, stumbling over your words and waving your hands in the air while you try to come up with something to say. Something to deny. Younghoon begins to smile again, coy and near-mocking.

“I don’t hear you actively denying anything.” His eyes widen and he bends forward, lowering his face to be near yours. Your cheeks are heating up, your mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Words. You need words. Why is nothing coming out?

“Shut the hell up, douchebag.” He laughs and your stomach churns again. Is he laughing at you?

“I’ll see you at 4, sweetheart.” Younghoon starts to reach his hand toward you as he leans up, but thinks better of it and drops it back to his side.

“Yeah, sure,” you scoff and turn your back to him.

Fucking prick.

“You have got to be kidding me,” You toss a stack of papers onto the table you’re sitting at, glaring at the notes Younghoon wrote on the whiteboard. He’d rented a study room for a few hours, giving you time to start working.

Or, at least, try to start working. You had made no promises about not trying to kill him and making it so neither of you could get any work done. Although, you had thought about running him over with your car so that you would have an excuse to work on this alone.

The blinds over the door had been shut, blocking anyone from looking in and potentially seeing you try to kill a man. Lucky for you.

“What’s so wrong with what I wrote?” He squints at the board and you push yourself out of the old, creaky chair you’d been sitting in.

“It’s contradictory!” You complain, reaching around him for the eraser. He grabs your hand before you can do anything, turning on you with a scathing glare.

“It’s not, though!”

His grip tightens on your wrist when you pull it away. You narrow your eyes, but he doesn’t waver at all. There’s heat behind his gaze, heat that makes you nervous. You know he won’t hurt you, that’s not who he is. The heat though…that makes you nervous. It’s the same heat you’d felt several times in the past few weeks.

“Let me go, Kim Younghoon.” He leans his head toward yours and your throat begins to close, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Not until you tell me why it’s contradictory!” He snaps. You swear your ears start to ring, your vision closing in until all you can see is Younghoon.

“It’s— why does it matter so much to you?” His grip finally loosens and you rip away from him with a huff.

“Because you’re putting down my work! Again!” He flings his hands into the air and you bite your tongue. “Why do you hate me so much?”

A lump in your throat, tears in your eyes, and Younghoon drops your hand. He looks defeated, his shoulders slumping and his lips set into a deep frown.

“I just,” Younghoon sits in his chair, the old wood creaking under his weight. You stand in the middle of the study room, hands by your sides and your eyes flicking around nervously. Your posture is so tense compared to his, your eyes flitting around anxiously. “I’m tired of this shit. Not knowing what the fuck I did wrong. You never give me a reason and, at first, I was fine with it. I liked the casual rivalry. But now I’m just…it’s been four years, and I still don’t know what I did.”

“Choi Yuna.” It comes out fast, the name of your ex-best friend. So fast that Younghoon doesn’t catch it, he just stares at you with a look of pure confusion.

“What?”

You say her name slower this time, tugging at the edge of your shirt. “Choi Yuna, you dated her from freshman year until late sophomore year.”

“Okay, yeah,” he leans forward with his elbows on his knees. “What does she have to do with this?”

Your cheeks are burning, and you know he can see it. See how flustered you are.

“She was my best friend.” You bite on your tongue, trying to find the right words.

“I know,” he said, and you purse your lips. “She talked about you all the time.”

“That’s funny,” you scoff, a spark of anger returning to your tone and to your facial features. “Considering she’s the reason I hated you for so long.”

“What are you talking about, sweetheart?” Younghoon huffs, rubbing at his eyes with his palms. You can tell he’s frustrated, so you speak quicker.

“She— she knew that I liked you.” His eyes snap up, wide and bulging. “She knew that I wanted to ask you out in freshman year, so she made sure to get there first. I— at first I thought that you knew that’s why she did it.”

“You thought that I knew your best friend wanted—” Younghoon huffs and rises to his feet.

“Just—” You hold up your hands as he begins to step toward you, slowly backing you into the wall. “Just let me talk. I thought you knew, yes. She told me that you asked her out first and that she just— she just agreed. So yeah, I started to hate you. I started arguing with you and every answer you gave in class because I was just so…angry at— at everything, at myself.”

Your back is against the wall now, and you’re slowly curling in on yourself as Younghoon gets closer.

“And…?” he cocks an eyebrow and your swallow thickly.

“By the time I realized that it was all her….at that point it was just easier to keep hating you. To keep everything at bay.”

“Everything?” He echoes and had you been looking at his face instead of his chest, you would’ve seen the smirk you’d always claimed to hate plastered onto his face.

“Yes,” you groan and lift your head. Your breathing hitches in your throat, your body pushing even closer to the wall when you finally see just how close Younghoon is to you.

Just a few inches from your face is his own, his eyes dancing from your eyes to your lips. His breathing is, compared to yours, slow and even. Inhale, hold, exhale. You can see his chest rising and falling with the rhythm.

“Why—” you clear your throat. “Why are you so close to me, Younghoon?”

“No legal name this time?” He murmurs, one of his hands coming up to rest on the wall beside your head. His head dips down and now his lips are brushing against yours, every breath you take mixing with his. “What happened?”

“I just— you’re a little close to me.” Your hand presses on his chest, but it's as if you aren’t even trying to push him away. “We— we probably shouldn’t.”

Younghoon kisses his teeth, shaking his head at your suggestion. Arguably, it’s a wise choice, but right now he has you exactly where he wants you. If he lets you leave now, who’s to say you won’t pack your bags and take a one-way flight to Brazil?

“I’ve been waiting,” he says and you squeeze the hand on his chest into a fist. “For three years for you to get your head out of your ass. I’m not letting you go now that I have you.”

“Have me?” Your tone shifts into one of challenge rather than the nervous air you’d surrounded yourself with. “If anything, I have you, Kim Younghoon.”

You yank him to you by his shirt, reaching up on your tip toes to place a firm kiss on his plush lips. You hear a groan rumbling in his throat, the hand not on the wall wrapping around your waist and squeezing tightly. Your lips mesh together, but it isn’t messy. It’s slow, calculated just like every move either of you had made against each other. Every argument, every challenge. The build-up. It all led to this, and you’re not letting him go this time. He’s yours and Choi Yuna can’t take him this time.

With a new fervor, both of your hands come to lace into his thick strands of black hair, effectively trapping his lips against yours. He drops the hand that was on the wall, both hands now on your waist and sipping under the loose fabric of your shirt. You gasp at the cold feeling of his hands on your skin, and he takes that opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth. It’s experimental, the way his tongue caresses yours, pushing gently and letting you suck at the warm muscle. He listens to the pretty little whimper you let out when he does the same thing in return and a shiver runs down his spine. His hand slides up the back of your shirt, emerging from the collar and lacing into the strands of your hair.

Air. You had to come up for air. You needed to breathe. Your lungs are aching, but fuck his lips are addicting. They’re soft, and warm, and they feel so good against yours.

Your knees cave slightly, your mind going fuzzy and Younghoon rips away from you to steady your body, his knee shoved between your legs to help keep you upright.

“Sweetheart,” his tone is lighthearted, but you know he’s scolding you. “You need to learn to breathe. I’m not leaving just because you need some air.”

A pretty little whine escapes you, but Younghoon is quick to realize that it’s not because you can’t find the words to respond to him. Well, if you think about it, that kind of was the reason.

Your hips are rolling down on his knee, your hands gripping his shoulder for dear life as you ride his thigh. Your head is rolled to the side, your eyes squeezed shut as you try to find the right pace and the right amount of pleasure to ease your arousal. Younghoon’s jaw drops, and he feels his dick twitch in his pants at the sight of you trying so desperately to relieve yourself on him. Unfortunately for you, he notes, your jeans seem to be in the way of you achieving your pleasure.

“Sweetheart,” he coos but his voice is shaky and he thanks god that you’re too far gone to notice. “Look at you, trying so hard to get yourself off.”

You whine, and his breathing hitches when you try to ride him even harder.

“Is it not enough?” He presses and your eyes fly open with the quick nod of your head. But then you shake it, and his heart clenches at the confused furrow of your brow.

“‘S not!” You whine. “Need more, Hoonie.”

He smiles when you reach one of your hands down, undoing the button of your jeans and trying desperately to shove them down as far as they can physically go without interrupting your ministrations. To your dismay, they barely get anywhere before Younghoon has to set you down and starts to tug them down your legs gently.

You never thought you would enjoy watching a man get down on his knees for you, never thought you could have this much of a reaction to it. Younghoon though…the sight of him looking up at you through his lashes, the nearly pathetic look in his eyes when he sees just how soaked your panties are— it’s enough to have you practically crumbling to the ground, your lips crashing against his again and forcing him back to lay on the ground.

His hands are everywhere— your hair, your hips, your ass, anywhere he can reach. He squeezes the soft flesh of your ass when your lips trail down his neck, sucking little marks into the skin and pulling groans and quiet whimpers from his throat.

Your hands run under his shirt, and he weakly tries to help you push it over his head to be tossed somewhere else. You shush him, a playful look in your eye as you place a finger on his lips.

“Gotta be quiet now,” you unbutton his jeans, slowly dragging them and his boxers down and he lifts his hips to help you slide them down to his knees. He doesn’t bother with your shirt but makes quick work of your bra and shoves it up. You’re sliding your panties down your legs when he shoves his hands under your shirt, squeezing and tugging at the soft mounds of flesh on your chest. A quiet moan at the feeling of him tugging at your nipples, and his hands falter momentarily when you wrap your hand around the base of his cock.

“Don’t hurt yourself,” he teases and you scoff while lining him up with your sopping wet pussy. You know he’s big, both of you do, but you’d never admit that to his face. Never admit that you’re nervous about taking it all in, nervous that you won’t be able to take him at all.

“As if your little dick could possibly hurt me—” your voice catches and he watches with strained amusement as you begin to sink down on him. Your walls are tight around him, practically squeezing the life out of his poor cock while you try so desperately to keep sliding down on him. Younghoon pulls his hands out of your shirt, sliding them down to your hips and gently rubbing them as a means to ease your discomfort.

“What were you saying about my little dick?” Younghoon sneers and you have to fight back the whine that threatens to slip out of you. He’s just over halfway in when you force yourself to give up, the stretch beginning to be too much for you to handle. “I could’ve prepped you, y’know? Made this easier for us both.”

You can only lower your head onto his shoulder, biting harshly into the skin while he flips you around and pushes your legs up toward your chest.

“Hold these here, sweetheart.” You do as he says, gasping sharply when he begins to sink into you.

“Fuck, Younghoon!”

“Shhh,” he kisses you gently while continuing to press into you, using the width of his shoulders to gently spread your legs a bit further apart. “‘M almost there, I promise.”

“‘S too much,” you whimper, a tear slipping out of your eye and dripping onto the carpeted floor below you. “‘S too much, Hoonie.”

“I know sweetheart,” he coos and looks down at where the two of you are connected. He fights the sudden urge to cum when he sees the fluttering of your walls, sees them clenching around him, and trying to force him out. “I’m almost there.”

Another whine from you and he quickly slides the last three inches into you, clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle the scream you release. He stays still for a moment, listening to the sound of you sniffling, and turns his head briefly to look at the door. A shadow passes by and he exhales quietly.

“And you were worried about me being too loud. Who’s the one with a hand over her mouth, hm?” You can’t don’t respond and Younghoon pulls out entirely, leaving just the tip inside of you, and when you whine and let go of one of your legs to reach out for him, he sinks into you in one harsh thrust.

The moan you let out behind Younghoon’s hand is guttural, and your back arches off the floor. His thrusts are rapid, yet he doesn’t falter in pattern. He sinks deep inside of you, punching into you so deep that you swear he’s going to hit your cervix. He lets his hand drop from your mouth listening to the way you try to hold back your noises. Every whine, every whimper and moan and cry, you try so hard for him.

“Such a good girl,” he coos. “Keeping quiet and letting me fuck her real good.” His voice is so quiet, the words practically hissed into your ear and it’s so hot that your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your grip on your legs loosens and then your hands drop them entirely, letting them fall onto his sturdy shoulders. He watches as both of your hands disappear under your shirt and he feels a pang of irritation as you begin to play with your nipples. They draw sharper noises out of you, higher in pitch and slightly louder. Although, Younghoon can’t complain when the combined pleasure has your cunt fluttering around him and fresh waves of arousal washing through you to make it easier for him to fuck in and out of you.

“Hoon,” your whine is loud. Too loud. “So close, please!”

Younghoon hushes you again, his hand running up the side of your leg and squeezing at the flesh of your thigh.

“I know, sweetheart,” he tells you. “You gotta be quiet f’ me. Gotta be quiet so nobody walks in, okay?”

“I can’t.” You sob out and Younghoon pushes himself closer to you, practically folding you in half so he can kiss you. You open up immediately, whining and letting him slide his tongue in for you to suck on.

Younghoon’s hips begin to stutter, his body shaking against yours, but you’re closer. Your body spasms, and you nip at his tongue to keep him close to you while you cum. Younghoon grunts at the combined feeling of your bites and the clenching of your walls around his length. It’s all a bit too much and it only takes a few more thrusts before he’s shuddering and collapsing against you, spilling ropes of white hot cum inside of you.

He can feel the combination of his and your cum beginning to squeeze out of you around the tight fit of his dick inside of you, but he doesn’t have the strength to pull out of you just yet. You’ve stopped biting at him, your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth slowly sucking at the warm muscle he continues to provide you.

Your body is sore, your thighs aching and likely bruised when you walk into your dorm a few hours later. You hadn’t gotten any work done after that, spending the rest of the time making out in a chair and grinding on each other like some damn horny teenagers. You know you’re a disaster, but you’re more than content with that knowing that Younghoon looks the same (if not worse).

When the door clicks shut, it’s dark in the suite and you silently thank god that Dawon and Suyeon are asle—

“Where the fuck have you been?”

The lights flick on to reveal your two friends at the counter in the suite’s living area. Dawon looks furious, but Suyeon looks like she just wants to go to be. You grimace, dropping your bag off your shoulder and onto the ground next to you.

“Out.” Your voice is hoarse and you grimace. You imagine your throat is a little bit bruised from…things.

“Doing what.” Dawon snaps.

“Or who, judging by the looks of you.” Suyeon clicks her tongue and rises from the couch. “Look at you! It looks like someone tried to eat you!”

Dawon squints at you, and you turn your gaze to the floor.

“You fucked him, didn’t you?” She inquires, but you both already know the answer.

“Who?” Suyeon frowns. “Who did she fuck?”

Your nose wrinkles, and you turn to her with a look that says I think you know. Suyeon tilts her head, her eyebrows knitting together in thought.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. OH— OH MY GOD—”

The Tau Beta Zeta frat house isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. At least not party-wise. The moment you and your friends walk in, you’re engulfed in noise, drunk partygoers, and scattered members of the frat. In one corner you can see what looks like two members of the frat making out with their girlfriends. Haknyeon and Changmin, Dawon said, Too bad they couldn’t find a private space. Damn exhibitionists. A smile quirks on your lips just slightly. Oh, if only she knew the truth.

You barely acknowledge her, however, scanning the room for Younghoon.

“Eric!” You grab the passing boy by the arm and he jerks to a stop, nearly spilling the contents of two cups.

“Yo!” He grins at you, and you can just faintly see the crinkle of his eyes under the red baseball cap of his. “What’s up?”

“Have you seen Younghoon?” Eric purses his lips in thought.

“You aren’t gonna kill him, right?” You laugh and so does he.

“No, not anymore. Or…I might if he doesn’t show up soon—”

“BOO!” Someone’s hands wrap around your waist lifting you off the ground and spinning you as you scream for him to put you down. Eric slips away, casting his eyes behind him to watch you and Younghoon as he approaches a girl in the corner.

“Kim Younghoon!” You snap, swatting him upside the head. Your boyfriend smirks at you, bending down to try and give you a kiss that you block. “Don’t kiss me, you douche! That wasn’t funny!”

“It was kinda funny,” he laughs, swooping in to give a kiss that you choose not to block this time. It’s deep and slow, and he tilts his head to get a better taste of you when you bring your hand to the back of his neck.

“Mmm, I think I like it when you don’t hate me.” He murmurs when he pulls back, grinning wickedly when you place a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Do you now?”

“Mhm.”

“Shouldn’t have scared me then.” You scowl, turning away from him and beginning to stalk away. He scrambles after you, frantically trying to keep up despite the crowd.

“Where are you going?” He whines, grasping at your fingertips. You turn your head, a coy smile playing on your lips.

“We gotta let loose, don’t we? We’re a little tense right now.”

A puddle of drool is practically forming in Younghoon’s mouth and he’s suddenly in front of you, moving with a renewed fervor.

When the door of the third bedroom on the right of the third floor shuts and clicks locked, nobody questions it. Not the thumping, nor the loud grunts and moans.

When someone needs to let loose, people know better than to interrupt. Especially when it’s Younghoon and his former-crush-turned-enemy-turned-girlfriend.

282 notes · View notes

sohnric · 6 months

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paris – l. juyeon

pairing: lee juyeon x fem! reader

genre: exchange student! juyeon in paris (ft. his erasmus friends). friends to ???, angst, fluff. actually, the genre is longing. halloween party au but the halloween part plays like,, 0 part in the fic, basically. idk the paris pics did something to me he is so european coded. paris by the 1975 without the drugs in a fic, essentially

warnings: cheating from yn's side, swearing, alcohol, smoking. the reader is canonically french im sorry 💀

word count: 6k

There’s quite a few reasons why Juyeon never told his friends from home about you- the girl he met on his student exchange trip. Some were the cause of Juyeon’s insecurities in himself, some the cause of your relationship status, all the cause of his unrequited love and the way you broke his heart, making Juyeon’s whole memory of Paris a bit hazy and bittersweet and the leave, paradoxically, that much harder. But still– and maybe you’re the reason for it– oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

a/n: do NOT cancel me for being a casual matty healy enjoyer i am a 2014 tumblr girlie at heart

“And where are my gifts? Where are the souvenirs?” Hyunjae calls after the boy that’s still kind of jet lagged from the flight (even though it’s been 3 days since his landing and he slept the whole day after his brother picked him up from the airport), the latter looking at him with tired eyes.

“That’s all you want from me after not seeing me for 6 months?”

“Yes. Where’s my baguette?” Hyunjae glares, making the younger boy whine at the request.

“I didn’t know you wanted a hard rock baguette from me. If I had known, I would’ve taken one with me and smashed it against your head the moment I arrived here.”

“Well, if it’s authentic,” Hyunjae shrugs, laughing. “I’m just joking… I know we’ve been calling and texting like, every other day, but let me ask again. How was it?”

Juyeon finally smiles at his friend’s question. This is what one expects after coming home from studying abroad for 10 months– not a souvenir request. And trust me, Juyeon did bring gifts, out of the warmth of his own heart, but after being asked for them, he kind of doesn’t want to play Santa anymore. Kind of like when you decide to wash the dishes, but your mum tells you to do it at the same time of your decision– the motivation fades away the mere second you’re requested to do the thing.

“Well, it was good,” he shrugs, “it was… something,” Juyeon says– because how does one fit 10 months of their life into a few sentences without stammering– and before he gets a chance to say anything, Hyunjae catches him off guard with another inquiry.

“Is it true, by the way? Are European girls really prettier?” he grins, wiggling his eyebrows at the boy as if to suggest something– but all it does is make Juyeon shrug, acting not really bothered with the question.

“Dunno,” he hums, “I think it’s equal to here.”

“So you’re telling me you went 10 months without getting laid in France?” Hyunjae gasps, making Juyeon furrow his brows in utter disbelief.

“When did I say that? Or anything that would even suggest that?”

Now, this was a trap. Juyeon is too gullible. See, Juyeon was pretty transparent with everything during his calls with Hyunjae back when he was in Paris. He told his friends back home all about the European food, the rock-hard french baguettes, the weird looks and annoyed sighs he got when speaking English to the clarks in the shops, the cold showers in his accommodation and the pretty park in front of his university building. They also know all about his friends from Paris– the international students he met in his course like Shotaro from Japan, Bence from Hungary and Marco from Italy– but when the question of girls came around, specifically in the romantic light of things, Juyeon went awfully quiet. You can’t blame Hyunjae for getting into suspicions.

“So you did?” Hyunjae gasps, grasping at the straws.

Juyeon sighs, reaching for his bag. His awfully big hand slips inside of the black backpack, fingers touching various things before he brings out a bunch of gifts: a keychain with the Eiffel tower, some magnets, postcards, a fashionable beret he found in one of the souvenir stores but never saw anyone actually wear in the whole 10 months in the streets of Paris, some perfume and high quality chocolate. Hyunjae’s eyes go wide, making satisfaction swim through Juyeon’s veins at the sight– he managed to deflect the attack.

Sometimes, having materialistic friends is a plus.

As he watches Hyunjae touch all the things on the table, fingers trailing over metal and the shiny wrapping of the dark chocolate with an acknowledging nod, Juyeon takes out another thing out of his bag– his digital camera that he brought along for the ride. He sent his friends a lot of pictures when he was in Paris, and he also posted quite a few on Instagram for everyone to see, but the camera held more memories and more moments than anyone’s ever seen before– it’s a source of treasure for himself as well, but he figures it wouldn’t hurt to share a glimpse with his best friend.

“Wanna see? I took tons of pictures, but you can look through only the interesting ones, if you want to,” Juyeon hums, offering the camera to the male, the display already shining at him from the gallery, small icons of all pictures on the SD card in a 3x3 row on the small thing.

A few pictures of the town are on preview right now, but if you scroll through the gallery, moments of his friend Marco’s birthday party that his friends threw for him, or the snapshots of his friend’s faces come into sight– Juyeon’s sure Hyunjae’s eager to see how all of the people he’s been talking to him about look like.

Hyunjae nods, taking the camera from him and squinting at the little icons. His fingers move along the touch screen and scroll through the gallery, eyes zooming on the interesting ones and grinning as he shows them to Juyeon, awaiting the backstory of a certain image.

Everything goes well, until Hyunjae gets to the latest pictures on the SD card– well, apart from the ones Juyeon took from the window on his flight home. And Juyeon really doesn’t know what he was thinking, but hey– sometimes he doesn’t think things through as much as he should– and that’s why when a particular photo comes into his best friend’s sight, turning the camera towards Juyeon with a shiteating grin on his face, the question ‘Who’s that?’ makes the poor boy a bit shaken.

His tall figure, standing alongside someone shorter– you, in your vampire costume, fake blood running down the side of your mouth, a hand thrown over his shoulders and your side pressed into his a bit too close as he stares down onto you with an obviously star-struck face, suit covering his body in a poor attempt at Joker’s costume– the moment stares back at him like a haunted memory.

He clears his throat. “That’s… that’s just Y/N.”

Hyunjae hums, having a staring contest with the picture on the screen. The date on the bottom reads 31/10/23, the last day of Juyeon’s stay before he had to go home. “How come I’ve never heard about Y/N?”

“There wasn’t much to say, I guess,” Juyeon shrugs, taking a sip from the bottle of beer on the table.

“Sure…” Hyunjae doubtingly nods, scrunching up his nose in disbelief.

“I’m serious. She’s just a friend I met there,” Juyeon offers, licking his lips in nerves.

And it’s the truth– you were just a friend and there really wasn’t much to say about you two– so why does Juyeon’s heart hurt a bit as he recognizes the events of the night as if it happened yesterday? Why does he feel nostalgic, maybe a little bitter about the way you two left off?

Hyunjae doesn’t know, but there’s quite a few reasons why he never heard about you in the first place. Some were the cause of Juyeon’s insecurities in himself, some the cause of your relationship status, all the cause of his unrequited love and the way you broke his heart, making the whole memory of Paris a bit hazy and bittersweet and the leave, paradoxically, that much harder.

But still– and maybe you’re the reason for it–

oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

31/10/2023

The buzzing of the room makes Juyeon’s already thumping head ache in its crevices, the smell of alcohol in the breath of everyone talking to him only making his stomach twist and turn with acid. He’s had his fair amount of drinks himself, but there is a very faint line between the amount that’s just enough to keep him going through the night and the amount that makes him puke and have a two-week hangover, and with the flight home he has to take tomorrow afternoon, he doesn’t think drinking more would be a good idea.

“Don’t break it!” Juyeon tiredly hurries out as he sees his friend Marco handle his camera, the device almost falling out of the foreign friend’s hands.

“I won’t! Hold on, let me just–” the Italian mutters, the coating of vodka shots and the cheap red wine (made to look like blood to keep things festive) making his words slur together as he speaks.

Juyeon reaches towards his drunk friend (while also questioning how he’s going to take a plane back to Italy tomorrow in a very hungover state) and tries to pray the prized possession out of his hands, but comes to a fail as the tall man waves him off with a theatral arm wave, shoving the poor boy towards the white wall and putting the camera up against his own face. “I’ll take your picture! So you can– you only take pictures of us, Juyo,” he rambles on, “I’ll take your picture so you can show it at home to your friends!” Marco grins, having Juyeon aimlessly sigh and stretch out his lips into a fake smile, waiting for his friend to take the picture so he can get his camera back to safety.

“Me too! Me too!” he suddenly hears from somewhere to his right, and before he has the chance to decipher the owner of the female voice, a weight on his shoulder tells him you just jumped at his side– almost topping him over and into the spooky decorations to his right– as you giggle into his ear. “Have it?”

“Aaaalmost!” Marco stretches out as he squints at the camera– and in the spare few seconds before the shutter goes off, Juyeon allows himself to stare down at your figure glued to his side. You’re wearing a dark lipstick on your smile, a drip of fake blood rolling down the side of your mouth. There’s a corset top enveloping your middle and a flowy black skirt only pulling the whole look together even with the absence of fangs– and while you don’t suck out his blood, Lee Juyeon can physically feel how you sucked out all oxygen out of his lungs in your sexy vampire costume.

He’s seen you around tonight, but he never got the courage to walk up to you. Something about this being his last night in Paris might be the reason why.

He was simply too bummed out about how things between you and him never went further than fits of laughter in class as you helped him with his French, or friendly hugs when you bid him goodbye at the corner of his street. Maybe it was his own fault for falling for someone so out of his reach. He always knew his stay in France was temporary– hell, he was an exchange student, he was aware of what he was getting himself into– but still, he couldn’t help but recognize the familiar warmth in his stomach whenever you were around and the strange racing of his heart whenever you were close enough for him to smell your shampoo for what it was. He was completely, utterly smitten with you– a french local that would be erased out of his lifestyle as soon as he lands back home in Korea.

The shutter of the camera is all it takes to break his train of thought, making him snap his head back to his Italian friend. A sigh of relief is heard in the room as Juyeon finally reunites with his digital camera (he was surprised to see Marco let go of it so easily), and before he has the chance to think of a conversation topic to indulge in with you, you have his words catching in his throat at your own pace of speech.

“Have you been here for long?” you ask, flattering your eyelashes at him. Juyeon gasps before he presses his lips together into a tight line, shrugging.

“A bit.”

“Why haven’t you said hi?” you frown. “You said it’s your last night! You wouldn’t leave without a goodbye, would you?” you shake your head at him, playfully poking his shoulder with your pointer finger.

He was going to. Not anymore, he guesses.

“No,” he disagrees instead, “I was gonna look for you when it was my turn to leave,” he quickly comes up with an explanation, having your features relax as a warm smile overtakes your pretty features again.

Even with your face all bloody and your eyes having dark circles under them from eyeshadow (and mascara that weared off a little, which you were completely unaware of), Juyeon finds you absolutely, utterly and fascinatingly beautiful. He’s glad no one is able to read his inner monologue– or else he’d be the one with blood running down the side of his face. If the punch to seal the cut would be coming from you or your boyfriend, he’s not quite sure.

Maybe both. The main thing is, you’re taken and his feelings aren’t reciprocated.

Which is why his silly crush on you that maybe, just maybe, turned into something more meaningful was that much damaging to his poor soul.

Because Juyeon swears he never loved anyone before, but after spending the night with you drinking cheap wine in his empty dorm room on his birthday completely alone– since it fell on a Sunday this year and he didn’t have that many friends yet to celebrate with, only having spending 2 weeks in Paris at the time– during which you taught him French swear words and kissed his cheek goodbye (which he thought may be a cultural thing, although he wasn’t sure); after all of this, he felt like you’re the person he’ll think of when someone asks him about his first love when he's old.

And even if he had the balls to do anything about it (which he didn’t), he simply couldn’t. You were out of reach.

“You’d better,” you hum, “or else I’d hitchhike a plane and come over to Korea just to kick your ass.”

“You can’t hitchhike a plane, you weirdo.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Of course I can. Watch me.”

Juyeon finds himself grinning at the adorable determination in your voice. It makes him feel a certain type of way that he knows he shouldn’t– but after spending 10 months with the feelings (5 of which you were single, 5 of which you’ve spent dating your boyfriend) and absorbing the idea of leaving you and everything behind tomorrow, Juyeon no longer feels as guilty about the act of loving you. Not anymore– not tonight.

“I like your costume,” Juyeon comments, pointing to the attire you’ve dressed yourself in.

“Really?” your eyes light up. “Look, I even wore the bow my idiot of a boyfriend said looks tacky,” you say, making a little twirl for the man. Your skirt flows nicely in the air and you stumble a bit due to the alcohol in your system, but when Juyeon catches you by your forearms and steadies you, there’s a content smile sitting on your lips despite your previous sentence.

“It looks pretty on you,” Juyeon hums, nodding. “It’s not tacky at all.”

“I always knew you had more taste than him,” you sigh dramatically, making Juyeon question your actions.

Oh?

“Anyways, I like your costume as well,” you comment.

“Thanks,” he says, although his half-assed attempt at a Joker’s costume wasn’t anywhere near your level of preciseness, “Shotaro was supposed to go as Harley to match with me, but he pulled out of it at the last minute,” Juyeon pouts.

“Gosh! That would’ve been fucking amazing,” you laugh, swatting your friend in the arm playfully– the way you always do when you laugh– but as you come down from it, there’s a bitter tone in your voice. “I asked my boyfriend to wear a couple’s costume too, but he said all my costume ideas were lame.”

“Y/N–” Juyeon starts, wanting to speak up about the matter very obviously present in the conversation, wanting to console you, say anything, but you cut him off again– your courtesy– with a shrug and a grin on your face made to mask your true emotions (didn't work. Juyeon knows you too well).

“It’s okay. That’s why I dressed up as a slutty vampire just to spite him,” you say.

“What’s his costume?” Juyeon asks.

“Not sure. I think he just bought the Scream mask, or something,” you mutter, rolling your eyes at the male.

And now, Juyeon was never big on gossip. But if gossiping meant poking fun at your boyfriend, the last night before his plane back home takes off is not the time he’s passing on a snarky comment. “Lame.”

“I’m so glad we are on the same page, Juyo.”

His heart leaps at the nickname– a lot of people call him that, but the tone you say it in, the sweet melody of your voice as you throw it at him like a promise (of everything and nothing at all– you’re fond of him, but never fond enough), only you have this effect on him when you call him that. He wishes he had you saying his name recorded, documented somewhere on his phone, your accent and all, so he could hear you say it when he foolishly misses you in the middle of the night, like he knows he will when he lays awake at home, in his tiny, silent room.

“Do you want to get out for a bit? It’s getting too hot in here,” you say as you wave yourself, hoping to cool off, but failing miserably with the heat created from the bodies swimming through the house, and Juyeon finds himself nodding at your question.

Your feet drag you outside of the house, the cold breeze instantly cooling down your sweaty bodies. You two stand on the front porch together, watching the world around you revolve in a fast, yet slow manner– there are couples making out in the corner of the yard, one of them pressed up against the tree, and friends chasing each other down in zombie costumes, passing by bottles of alcohol between each other.

Juyeon hears you hum, making him turn his head towards you and see you offering a cigarette to him. He'd never been much of a smoker before, but Europe taught him to never turn down a cigarette when offered, and so he only takes out one out of the pack, watching you mirror his movements. You fish for your lighter in your bra (and Juyeon finds himself too mesmerized to look away during the action), clicking it and putting the flame against the cigarette trapped between his lips.

He doesn’t know what it is about the action that makes his eyes hooded as he watches you– noticing the forgotten speck of glitter from some step of your makeup routine under your eye, making him want to swipe his thumb over it and take it off for you– but he can’t get his gaze off you as he breaths in the smoke, his head going more fuzzy than it has been only a few minutes prior.

When Juyeon’s cigarette is lit, you move to light your own, all while the male watches you with almost a dreamy look on his face. Somehow, he’s glad no one’s watching you. He doesn’t think he would be able to conceal his feelings for you tonight.

“Are you gonna miss this?” you suddenly ask, looking up at him from his right.

You? Absolutely.

“I think so,” he nods, “it’s a lot different to home, but I made a lot of memories here.”

He watches a hint of smile spreading over your features. “Do you remember when you accidentally told our professor you were horny instead of excited?” you laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” Juyeon laughs at the memory. His French never really got to a perfect level– that’s why most of you settled on speaking English between each other– but the first few weeks were a living hell of a language barrier for Lee Juyeon. “The more concerning part is that this is what made you approach me,” he notes.

“Well, I recognised that you needed help, and I was willing to provide it,” you say, taking a drag out of the cigarette and blowing the smoke into his face.

Juyeon looks at you through the smoke cloud, snickering. “I’m kinda grateful, though. You were the first friend I made here.”

You look at him with a tender look– something so full of care Juyeon swears he feels his stomach doing somersaults– before you press your lips into a solemn smile. “Well, I’m honored, Juyeon Lee,” you drag out in a posh accent, making the boy break out into a laugh.

He takes another drag off the cigarette, inviting the nicotine into his system. Mixed with the alcohol in his veins and your aura surrounding him, he almost feels on cloud 9, like he’s flowing in space and he can’t get down. He watches as you lean over the railing of the porch, forearms meeting with the metal in a set of goosebumps. Breeze flies through the air, making your barely-clothed figure shiver.

He knows he probably shouldn’t. Your boyfriend is somewhere inside, and although you two are seemingly in a weird sort of fight, it’s not his place to act as a gentleman.

Still, Juyeon finds he has nothing to lose. He shrugs off the suit jacket he’s been wearing and drapes it over your shoulders wordlessly, noticing the way you look back at him over your shoulder with a soft smile on your lips.

A comforting silence overtakes you two. Juyeon takes the last drag off the cigarette and puts it out on the iron railing, enjoying the effect your sheer presence has on him. The music coming out of inside is only a mere background noise now, providing him an occasional distraction to the buzzing of his own thoughts.

“Say, Juyo,” you start, “do you know where Dorothy lives?” you ask.

Juyeon hums in disagreement. “Don’t think I do. Why?”

“I’m sleeping over at hers tonight,” you mumble, mentioning your best friend– the girl Juyeon’s met plenty of times in the 10 months of knowing you. “I was supposed to stay at Andre’s, but I’m not talking to him right now.”

“Oh,” is all Juyeon says. The mention of your boyfriend always throws him off the track a little.

“I dunno where Dorothy went, but I’m getting kind of sleepy.”

“Why can’t you just go home?” he asks.

“Juyo,” you laugh, “my parents would kill me if I got home tipsy and smelling like cigarette smoke. Don’t you know how they are?” you joke, shaking your head in disbelief.

He doesn’t. He kind of wishes he had the chance to know, though– because if he knew your parents, maybe it would imply something. Signify something more.

“Do you want me to walk you to Dorothy’s?”

“Yeah,” you nod, lids heavy. Juyeon doesn’t know what time it is, but the last time he checked, it was well past midnight– he doesn’t think he’d stay around much longer himself.

“Okay,” he nods, watching as you slowly peel yourself off the railing and wear his suit jacket properly, the fabric drowning you, but keeping you warm. The sight, the sentiment of it, makes Juyeon’s hands shake and his throat go dry. You’re so close, yet so out of his reach.

Your feet are slow as you march towards the direction of your best friend’s house. Juyeon doesn’t know how far it is, but he wishes for you to take the long way home– if those are the last moments he has with you, he wants to drag the evening out the best he can.

The night is quiet. The only thing ringing in your ears is the sound of your own footsteps, when Juyeon surprises himself with the question that noisily cuts out of his throat.

“Why don’t you break up with him?” he asks.

He expects you to go mad at the question– you were known to have quite the fierce temper. You and Andre have had a few problems in the past: he was known to be reckless with his snarky comments that somehow hurt your pride, his nasty behavior when he got drunk, and the not-so-happy opinion your parents had of him. You were known to blow things out of proportion, screaming, crying and making a scene whenever you could if you thought it was appropriate, known to talk about your conflicts with your friends and digging out opinions out of them on the matter.

Juyeon always made sure to give you lukewarm arguments whenever you asked him about your boyfriend. Never too heated to make himself seem suspicious. Your relationship was none of his business.

Again– tonight, though, he has nothing to lose.

“I dunno,” you shrug, your steps a little uneven on the pavement, “it’s… a matter of habit, maybe? It’s weird,” you say.

The explanation gives Juyeon just about nothing. A matter of habit? Is it a habit to stay with someone? Was there not more needed for a relationship?

Juyeon doesn’t find it in him to reply. Instead, he lets you talk.

“I think I might love him, or something. I’m not really sure…” you mumble, the sentences breaking Juyeon’s heart a little by little, shattering it right in front of you on the pavement, “because if I didn’t, why else would I put up with all of this?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

“All the shaming, the spiteful remarks. The pettiness, the silent treatment… tell me, Juyo, do I have any dignity?” you laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Y/N…”

The snicker that escapes out of you quickly turns bitter. Your body grows impossibly closer to his, your hands sneaking around his bicep. You walk with linked arms, your head falling to his shoulder. “I don’t think I really love him, though,” you suddenly rebuttal, “‘cause like… I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t tell my grandkids about Andre, y’know? I think that’s the way you know. If you can imagine thinking so fondly about someone that you… that you’d mention them even in 50 years, ‘cause the memories still feel fresh and you’re delighted you once knew them, then…” you trail off, voice fading.

“Do you know what I mean?” you hum, pouting.

He does know.

“Sorry, I’m rambling–”

“No, I get you,” he reassures you, nodding to himself.

“You always do,” you sigh, breaking Juyeon’s heart into a million pieces, “anyways, with that being said… I think I’m with him only because breaking up is too much of a hassle. And, I think I like the attention,” you splutter, laughing at yourself, “that’s… so desperate of me, I know. I’m starting to doubt if it’s even worth it.”

“He’s not,” Juyeon finds himself saying as you two cross the corner.

“You’re only saying that as my friend.”

“No, I’m saying that as your– as someone who cares…?” he stutters, mentally kicking himself for sounding so readable. Surely, you must’ve already noticed. If not from his current statement, then from the way he looked at you the whole night. You are a smart girl– you were always quick to point out the men that would soon hit on you when you were at the club. You have a good eye when it comes to others.

You only laugh, though. Oh, how Juyeon loves the sound.

“Thank you,” you hum.

You two fall silent for a while. Juyeon finds himself enjoying it. It feels comfortable– to walk with you through the emptied Paris, accompanied by the yellow lampposts and soulless streets. Only you two, your linked arms and his suit jacket around your shoulders.

“We’re at Dorothy’s,” you muse when your steps come to a halt, gesturing towards the silent, dark house on the other side of the street, “I think she’s not home yet, though. Her light would be on.”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Juyeon looks from the house and back at you, then back at the seemingly empty house again. “And now what?”

“I have to wait for her,” you shrug, “will you… keep me company?”

You don’t even have to ask. He’d always keep you company.

“Well, I’m not just gonna let you stand alone in the street in the middle of the night, am I?” he playfully shakes his head in disbelief, but secretly enjoys the fact that he has more time with you before you have to pay each other goodbye.

“Always knew you were a gentleman.”

“Pretty sure that was my middle name,” he notes.

“I thought you said that was ‘handsome’ once?”

“I have two,” he laughs.

“Is that possible?” you tease.

“Of course! Look it up,” he says, turning to you as he talks. “My name’s actually Lee Handsome Gentleman Juyeon, it’s on my ID and everything,” he jokes, watching as your eyes turn into moon crescents and your throat lets out a fit of amused giggles.

Another playful punch to his shoulder. A happy sigh. A shake of your head, full of disbelief.

“Damn, Juyo. I’ll miss you like crazy, you know?” you suddenly utter, making the boy’s heart fall down into his stomach. The implication of your words sounds a lot like a goodbye, and although he was aware of the fact that he was leaving before, he doesn’t think he really let the reality down on him until now.

This time tomorrow, there will be no Paris. No Marco. No Shotaro. No Bence. No French locals, no bagels for breakfast, no shitty ass dorm room.

No you.

“I’ll miss you more,” he says. He thinks he’s right.

You’ll miss him like a friend. He’ll miss you like his first love.

You stare at him for a heartbeat. One, two– before you latch onto him, much like when you first met tonight. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him close, head resting on his shoulder only when you notice his hands wrapping around your middle. Breathing in your scent, Juyeon focuses very hard to keep his heart rate in check– it’s hard to not falter under your touch when your nose buries itself into his neck, cold skin nuzzling into his hot one, hands squeezing him tighter.

Juyeon doesn’t think you’ve ever hugged him like this before.

And now, you won’t ever again.

You break away from him only enough to still be in his hold, your forehead resting against his. The new intimacy between the two of you makes him gulp, eyes focused into yours– watching the silver and gold swirl around your irises, counting your eyelashes. Noticing the faint mole on the top of your nose bridge.

Foolishly letting his eyes dip lower. Memorizing the shape of your lips with his gaze. Taking in a shaky breath when he feels your fingers playing with the hair on his nape.

“Will you tell your grandkids about Paris?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. Juyeon would almost think you’re suggesting something with your question, but when you speak up again, the suspicion is proved correct. “Will you tell them about me?”

The boy drags his eyes up back to yours. He examines the intention. He finalizes that he has nothing left to lose.

Tomorrow, this will all be a memory. A moment out of his reach– much like you, all this time. A moment of time he experienced and won’t ever get back.

“I will,” he nods, swallowing. “Will you?”

You smile at the boy, the curve of your lips capturing his attention again. If anyone asked, he’d tell them it’s pure biology– the way his eyes zoomed in on your mouth the moment your expression changed. That’s how attention fluctuates– he learned about it in class somewhere, he’s fairly certain.

Why he’s unable to look back into your eyes after the question is a matter of something else, though.

“I think I might,” you breathe out.

There’s buzzing in his fingertips as he relishes the moment. The sentiment makes his knees weak, his brain fuzzy, his sight blurry and a little hazed. When he finally catches a glimpse of your gaze, he finds it glued to his mouth.

He could take it as an invitation.

He won’t, though.

“Kiss me?” you ask, whispering.

He shakes his head in disapproval. “I can’t.”

Not when you’re taken. Not when he’s aware. Not when he knows you might regret this in the morning.

“Can I kiss you, then?” you ask.

That, however, is a whole other situation.

You asked to. You're making the first step. He doesn't have to feel guilty– who cares whether either of you might regret this decision tomorrow.

A simple nod–

that’s all it takes before you lock your lips with his. Your mouths move against each other with a passion he’s contained for his whole stay. You taste like vodka and orange juice, the slickness of your lip gloss making Juyeon’s lips slide against yours with more ease. He kisses you like you’d kiss your first love– with everything in him, with everything he is.

He kisses you in a way that shows he wants to remember this forever. In a way that makes you lean even closer, pressing up firmly against him as you angle your head to make the kiss deeper. One of your hands moves from behind his head to twist itself deeper into his hair, tugging a little at the root to make the boy gasp under your actions. That has you inviting your tongue into his mouth, eager to taste him, to explore.

Juyeon doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed like this. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so vulnerable, so open while kissing someone. This is him with his heart on a plate, naked and ready to be stabbed, squished by the weight of circumstances breathing onto his back.

His cold fingers move along your sides. Your hands settle on his shoulders to steady yourself, head pulling away to gasp for oxygen.

You look so pretty when he opens his eyes. Lipstick smudged and eyes blown out, hair a little messy from the October wind. He’s like an addict presented with his favorite drug– he can’t get enough, he can’t resist as he chases after you, leaving kisses along your jaw and the corner of your mouth, where the blood is, slowly meeting your lips again in another lock.

Everything else disappears. In this moment, there’s just you, you, you…

No flights. No weight of his own conscience. No boyfriends, no unsaid feelings.

No regret.

And Juyeon thought he had nothing to lose, but suddenly, with you in his arms, he feels as if he’s being stripped of everything he never even had, only got the glimpse of last minute, a few hours before he’s gone.

You lean away again. Juyeon watches you with big eyes. A smile appears on your face as you move a finger up to his face, cleaning up the side of his mouth off the dark lipstick you’ve imprinted on him. He feels fragile under your touch. One bad move and he breaks, falls apart under you.

“You have to come back to visit one day,” you whisper, cradling the side of his face.

Juyeon nods. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance.

But as you stand on your tippy toes and press a kiss to his forehead, making a million different fireworks erupt in his stomach, he doesn’t let himself think of that (im)possibility. He watches as you smile at him, locking your eyes in a gaze tender and soft, yet electrifying, holding something special.

Before you take off to meet your best friend walking up the other side of the street, you hug him one last time and whisper into his ear.

“Goodbye, Juyo.”

Seeing as you lock your arms with Dorothy, walking up into the silent house and never looking back, Juyeon lets himself feel the last hint of longing for someone he always knew would never be his. And it’s strange, because he hasn’t even left yet,

but oh, how he’d love to go to Paris again.

#deoboyznet #the boyz #juyeon #lee juyeon #tbz #the boyz x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #juyeon x reader #juyeon fluff #juyeon angst #lee juyeon x reader #lee juyeon angst #lee juyeon fluff #tbz x reader #tbz fluff #tbz angst #juyeon scenario #juyeon fic

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halaboyz · 4 months

Text

backburner, sunwoo

the boyz sunwoo x gn! reader angst wc: 2k warnings: drinking a/n: ...hello

One, two, three.

You don't know when you started counting, but it felt like it's only been a day.

It's been weeks.

It's been weeks- two, to be specific, when he last messaged you. Not that it matters; you only wanted to know whether he's dead or alive.

Right?

That's how it has always been.

"Can you..." Sua begrudgingly turns your phone facing the table, incoherently swearing, "...please stop looking at your phone?! It's been weeks, for heaven's sake!"

"Sorry." And it's been a waterfall of apologies for your friend. "I'm just worried."

"That's the problem! You're always worried about him, but the fuck does he even do for you?" Sua sighs, getting ready for the hundredth talk about your situationship. "He messages you when it's convenient for him. Meanwhile you, you're ready to drop even the biggest things just for him! Is a screw gone loose in your head?"

"Sua, I know. Believe me... I know. I just... I don't know." You could only sigh back, not having any words to explain the right feeling. But you swore you know, you just don't know how to explain it.

"The fuck are you saying? Hey, look. I'm sorry for the choice of words but... aren't you a bit sorry for yourself? One, you missed a project deadline because he wanted you to pick him up from a bar because he was dead drunk, what is he, a kid? Two, you missed four plates from, let me emphasize, one subject- a major one that is! Just because he was crying and only wanted you to have to talk some sense to him, about another person! And three, and I hope it is the last, you managed to fail a minor subject because you didn't get to pass the only activity you've been nonstop doing for weeks, just because when the day of the deadline hit, your Sunwoo was borderline dead because of his flu. Again, what is he, a kid?!"

Sua was indeed fuming. Besides the fact that she just rambled, she was red in anger. Yet you stayed quiet because... she was right.

Nothing she said was wrong, everything she said was on point.

Yet why... why does it feel like you can and will do it all over again, when it came to Sunwoo?

While you calmed her down with a stroke in the hand, mumbling continuous apologies, you bring her a glass of water and assist her to the bed.

"I get it, I get it. Come on, it's our pajama night in months, let's just not talk about it." You coo, trying to get her back to her good mood.

Well, not until your phone vibrated.

You jumped off the bed in a flash, checking your phone.

sw: asjkdlalkklj

The single message was all it took before you rang his phone, took your coat and wore your running shoes, shouting an apology to your friend and getting your keys in an instant.

"Hello?" An unfamiliar voice picks the phone up, "This is the bar's manager. We've only got to open his phone right now, but it has been an hour since we've been trying to get mister to go home. We're letting this off the hook since he's a regular." The manager doesn't even give you a second before he drops the bar's details, and hanging up the phone.

You sigh, starting your car's engines and chuckling when you see Sua peeking out of your window and throwing you a middle finger, before you drove off.

You immediately, shamefully bow your head to apologize at the staff while you scram your way to Sunwoo, who had his head down at the counter and lips smacking continuously as if still savoring the bitter taste of the alcohol he had just been drinking.

You sigh, it all felt like deja vu.

"Sunwoo." You shake his shoulders, careful not too much in case he vomits on your car like the first time. "Come on, I'll get you home. I just need you to wake up for a minute."

"No!" He swats your hand away with his eyes closed, facing the other way. "Not going... until y/n's here..."

You sigh again. You thought, is it even going to be the same person you're finding when you're sober?

Swallowing the lump on your throat, you ease up a smile and lower your back to his level.

"I'm here. It's y/n." You pat his back and he gets his one eye open to peek at you. He inevitably bursts into the biggest smile and jumps at you.

"It's y/n! y/n is here!" He sing-sang and you finally get ahold of him, bowing once again for the man as you assist him back to your car. "I missed you."

Sure he did. When he's drunk.

"Sunwoo, here, drink some water first." You hand him a newly opened bottle of water, tugging on his jacket as he tightly hugs the seatbelt.

"I don't want to," He whines, keeping his arms away from you.

"Please?" With a coo, Sunwoo finally takes the bottle and gulps it at once, giving you the empty bottle back as he succumbs to the warmth of your carseat.

You sigh. Again. The things you're willing to do for a man who only needs you.

Sunwoo stirs on his sit, eyes squinting everywhere.

"Sober?" You put your phone back to your pocket after writing Sua a long paragraph apologizing.

"Oh, y/n." He giggles, moving in his seat to face you. "Hi."

"Can I drive now? I don't want you vomiting all over the place because of your motion sickness."

"How long have you been waiting?" You hand him another bottle of water, finally starting the engine.

"Almost an hour."

"That long? I'm sorry," Sunwoo coos, reaching for your resting arm. He caresses it sweetly and you don't give an effort to avoid it. "How's my y/n been doing?"

"Bad. I've been missing you." You reply with no hesitation, eyes not leaving the road. You've always been this honest with him, it wasn't something new you spoke your feelings.

"Oh. Sorry about that. Just busy," Sunwoo gives you a small smile, retracting his warm hand. It didn't make sense that every time Sunwoo made an excuse of ghosting you, you still believe him.

Why?

Because the moment he gets drunk, he thinks of you.

At least, he thinks of you.

"Can I stay at yours for the night? I don't feel like staying alone tonight." Sunwoo changes the topic while you stop at a red light, raising your brows at him. "Please?" His playful whine makes you chuckle, giving in.

Times like this he didn't need to give you an explanation.

No- actually, if it came to Sunwoo, you didn't need anything. Explanation, excuses, reasons, anything. If it was Sunwoo, you'd drop everything for him.

Because who were you kidding? This is Sunwoo we're talking about.

"Hey, we're here." You shake his shoulder lightly after turning the engine off, smiling at him. "Can you walk?"

"Of course, you're talking to Sunwoo." He chuckles, removing the seatbelt.

He can't. He was too drowsy to eve take a step out. So you had to assist him by the arm until you're inside the flat, making him lay on the bed.

You prepare a warm water and a towel to wipe Sunwoo's face when you notice a note stuck by the magnet on the refrigerator, written by your lovely friend.

Next time I see you get ready for an ice cold bath from yours truly, in hopes of trying to get you in touch with reality.

PS: schedule another pajama night or you're dead !!!

You chuckle as you hide the note behind another bigger note, getting what you came for in the kitchen and another glass of water and his medicine to take when he wakes up.

You gently place the warm-wet towel on his forehead, waiting for any reaction to get nothing so you continue to wipe his face, and next his hands.

When you were done, getting up from beside him, you felt him swiftly tug your middle finger.

"You're going to sleep beside me, right?"

"Huh?" Sunwoo's eyes open for a second and close again, as if only to confirm it was you beside him.

"Your curtain's scary. Please sleep beside me. The couch is uncomfortable to sleep on, too."

"I sleep there all the time, Sunwoo. It's fine,"

"Not you. Me. You're not letting me sleep there, and I'm not letting you sleep there. So let's stay here together." Sunwoo's nonchalance is breaking you to pieces.

If it wasn't the nth time did this to you, you yourself know that if it was the past you, you would be feeling all over the place and giddy, above all that.

But no. This time around, it was breaking you to pieces.

Because this time, realizations come to mind.

Like how it wasn't all a big deal for him. This. All of this. Like it was all normal between... friends. Or are you even friends? Borderline lovers?

Whatever you two are- it was clear. He didn't feel the same way you do. He doesn't look at you the same way you do.

"Okay." But you're fine with it. "I will." You will always be fine with it.

And that's the problem with you.

When it came to Sunwoo, you will always fold.

"Okay. Let me get some sleep first okay? Make sure you come sleep beside me!" He giddily makes himself comfortable inside the blanket, going to dreamland with a smile.

Leaving you with a forced one.

You only sigh as you clean yourself up, washing your face with cold water and looking at yourself in the mirror. "You're pathetic." You whisper, feeling disappointed of yourself.

The people around you took good care of you fondly up until now, and you let yourself be pathetic over one guy who only contacts you when it's convenient for him? You remember Sua's words perfectly, because that's where it hit home.

You grew up with so much love and care, yet you fail to see your worth over one guy.

You heave another heavy sigh, opening your eyes to trace Sunwoo's facial features with your eyes.

"How come it had to be you?" You whisper, stopping your tears before it even dropped.

And just like that, the night continued.

Sunwoo wakes up at around 6 in the morning because of his phone continuously vibrating inside his jacket, grabbing it with his free hand to take the call.

Before he answers, he takes a good look at you and chucked. Sunwoo ended up hogging the whole blanket (you rather gave everything to him) so you were snuggling beside him, making his other arm your personal pillow.

He carefully places you down to the pillow and covers you with a blanket, letting the ring end and going outside the bedroom to call back.

After the phone call, he sneaks back in the bedroom to see you soundly sleeping, taking his things and leaving a note on your bedside table.

He takes a while as he stares at you, giving you a small smile.

He knows what he's done, what he's been doing- yet he can't stop. He loves the thrill, he loves the feeling that someone is willing to do everything for him. That's it.

But that doesn't mean he didn't feel sorry for you, for what he has been doing with you. And it doesn't mean he doesn't feel sorry that he can't return your feelings.

He knows, of course. Only a rock wouldn't know how you felt towards him.

"I'm sorry this time too, y/n." He caresses your cheeks before leaving, making sure to lock your door.

After a few minutes, you sniff your tears away right in the morning.

"Sorry, huh." You chuckle bittersweetly, looking at the note he left for you.

I'm going out with Chanyi today, she asked me to breakfast! Thank you y/n, sorry I had to leave early, you were sleeping cutely~

I'll contact you!

And with that, your getaway was done.

Your bed was left empty, your apartment empty,

and you, empty.

But you knew you'd do it all over again.

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cloverdaisies · 9 months

Text

FANTASIZE★彡 - K.SW 🎀🩺🌬️

sunwoo! x reader! bartender! ʚїɞ suggestive ! tbz short imagine!

description: “i fantasize about it all the time if you were mine.. ♪” there was something about your coworker that made you want him, maybe it was his cherry red lips or every charming word that slipped from them - whatever it was, you couldn’t resist. ʚїɞ

member: sunwoo x reader

genre: short! mildly suggestive!

SATURDAY NIGHT, 20:45 # PM

Darkness drew over the city, the night lit up with booze and bass lines blasting from every bar in the quarter. The bar you worked at particularly was the space for pre-drinks, with sober party goers coming to drunken themselves up before filling up the clubs later in the night.

Every night you signed yourself in, checked the list of other staff working and everytime you saw Sunwoo written in scruffy hand writing on that sheet your heart beat just a second faster than usual.

Irresistibly attractive, he seemed to be a favorite amongst every customer to waltz through the doors and it’s not hard to see why. With his messy hair, a jaw that could tear paper, dark eyes that produced the most seductive stare and lips that could kiss the most perfect mark on another’s skin. He was probably some reincarnation of the devil’s favorite persuader.

The bar didn’t look particularly busy despite it being a Saturday night, it was usually lined with drunkards begging for another pint but tonight there was only a few customers to serve.

“Hi.” You walked onto the bar greeting Sunwoo, as he was pouring a pint of beer into a glass from one of the pumps. You observed his hands, the veins running up them, leading to his thin long fingers which were wrapped around the beer glass.

“Hello.” He replied with a bright tone, briefly looking up to send you a smile as he carried on serving customers. It was a gorgeous grin that sent serotonin running wild around your brain, everything else in your body urging you not to just collapse right there and then.

Since tonight didn’t seem to be getting any busier, whilst Sunwoo served you grabbed a mop to wipe down the bar before a possible rush came in. You began swiping up the bar, managing to get every spot but under the shelf where Sunwoo was stood.

“Can I just get where you are?” You asked politely, he replied with a quick “sure thing” as he was still between pouring a drink. He stepped back hand still under the beer pump finishing the pint, you slid past him to mop the missed patch, almost stopping your whole pulse, he placed his free hand on your waist as you got past. A light touch that sent warmth, running through every stream of blood in your body. You could feel the silver bands of rings wrapped his finger make contact with your spine, it felt like magic.

With red ears, you quickly finished up the job and put the mop back in its place, fighting every instinct within you to not just grab his shirt and pull him into the back and put all this pent up tension to rest.

For the rest of the night, the bar continued at a slow pace, which was unusual for a Saturday. However it only meant you could close up earlier, an early bed time wasn’t on your list on complaints at all.

The door swang open last minute, causing yours and Sunwoo’s attention to move to the entrance where a girl in a pretty pink party dress sauntered in confidently.

“Hey baby.” She sat on the front of the bar stools, opening her purse and asking for a quick pint to which Sunwoo huffed out in frustration.

“What’s wrong with you? We’re going out tonight, cheer up. Jeez.” She shook her head, as he pulled out a glass to pour. You felt nothing but anger pool at the bottom of your stomach, acknowledging how she’d spoke to him like dirt.

“I told you already, you can go out. I’m not going anywhere.” Before she could reply to that statement, the ale pump began dropping and spurting. “Ah shit, we’re out of ale, I gotta go change the keg.” Sunwoo sighed as he checked the pumps, needing to have them ready for the morning staff to use.

“I’ll come take out the old barrel.” You followed him down to the cellar, conveniently the only place in the entire bar without cctv attached to every corner. Plus moving one of those massive metal barrels tended to be a two man job anyway.

“Is that your girlfriend?” You scoffed, sitting on top of one of the crates in the drinks cellar, it was enjoyable watching how he made the heavy lifting look as if it was easy, the way his muscles flexed poking out of his short sleeved shirt.

“Unfortunately.” He replied briefly, trying to focus on the job at hand but miserably failing as he caught sight of the way your legs looked, your skirt having rode up as you sat down.

“Then why is she your girlfriend if it’s unfortunate?” You taunted him, with a laugh, trying to make light of the fact he was letting himself be dragged around like a poor dog on a leash.

“Ehh. She wasn’t always like that.” He dusted off his hands, standing up straight to look at you with those familiar piercing eyes.

“Mmm. If you’re unhappy you should let her know.” You simply suggested, watching him roll his eyes as if he hasn’t heard that statement a thousand times already.

“You don’t think I haven’t?” He cocked his head, giving it a crack, which exposed his neck in the most attractive way you’d ever seen a man move.

“Do better.” Your voice dropped to be more sultry, taunting him again as you jumped down from the crate to your back against the metal shelves behind you.

“Better?” He laughed in annoyance walking closer towards you, with slow daunting steps that raised your pulse to the maximum, anticipating the worst you backed as much as you could up to the shelf.

“I think I could do much better right now.” He was dangerously close, so close you could feel the warmth of his fire chest the fresh scent of his breath and cologne mixing into to this masculine heat that sent all of your natural instincts wild. You looked up at him with your sparkling eyes, that sent him into heaven every time he caught.

“Fuck sake. I can’t do thi-” Before he could finish that unforgivable whine you grabbed him by his collar and smashed your lips on to his. Fire sparking between you both, hips crashing into one and others as he firmly gripped on to your waist his hands threatening to travel lower. All of your fantasies about this man, coming true in one moment, as things began to get more and more heated.

You broke things up, looking up at him with awkward eyes that only riled him up more, it took everything within him to tear himself away from you, you were absolute poison to him, you only made him more and more weak every time he laid eyes on you.

“You’re gonna kill me one day.” He grunted, smiling slightly towards the end of the sentence, a sly smirk that drove you wild. He was a dangerous case, you knew that from his every move, however it was impossible to resist.

a/n: how i feel after writing this! 😵‍💫 DIZZY… he’s more delulu than us… fr… also ari better release fantasize ik she’s kinda cancelled atm but that song is absolutely unreal… i’m a sucker for anything with a britney sound… KIM SUNWOO YOU WILL KILL ME MF!!!

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zzoguri · 3 months

Text

safe haven (how much longer do we have?) ➵ jacob bae

jacob bae x reader, slight lee hyunjae x reader

you can only hope for more tomorrows with jacob.

genre/warnings ➵ strangers to lovers, heavy angst with a happy ending, touch of fluff, afab reader (no-gendered terms), lowercase intended, apocalypse au, hurt/comfort (both physical and emotional), depictions of grief, descriptions of gore/blood, use of guns, allusions and discussions of suicide, minor character deaths, hyunjae is your ex, changmin and kevin appearance :'), elements of the last of us (don't support neil druckmann!), mostly written in past tense (because u're remembering!)

word count ➵ 6.2k words

inspired by ➵ “anaheim” by niki, “are you happy?” by @wavesmp3, “love wins all” by iu, episode three of hbo's the last of us, and “you’re gonna carry that weight” quote from cowboy bebop

a/n ➵ my life changed forever reading shawna's piece. thank you for letting me write a piece based on your work (if you haven't read it, go check it out!) just like you, i am a sucker for apocalypse aus :')) hope i did justice to your beautiful work. anyway, love wins all coming out yesterday was a miracle because it's definitely made for this fic </3 thank you to @heemingyu and @deobienthusiast for betareading a bit of this! if you enjoyed reading, please do reblog and leave feedback!

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlist

time was the one thing that occupied everyone’s minds. it held value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and people revolved their lives around it.

questions flew around with every tick and tock—what day is it today? when’s your next doctor’s appointment? how long has it been since you’ve last seen your friends from high school? until when does this meeting last?

as the hands of the clock continue to rotate, the calendar pages would flip along. birthdays were celebrated with every revolution as candles on cakes were lit up, awaiting the puff of celebrants as they wished for their desires. holidays were ones to look forward to; people dressed up to celebrate periods of the year that mattered to them while others slept in until noon. and days were spent counting down until graduations, where caps with tassels would fly to the expanse of blue and orange as cheers and sobs sound throughout.

but now, no one keeps track of time. clocks stopped moving and calendars weren’t produced annually. once the surge of the infected took over, grabbing on humans, taking them away from the lives they’ve lived, everyone ran like they were running out of time. with every second that passes, people are ridden with possibilities of how they might bid farewell to life itself—would it be through the hands of the infected or their own?

now, only one question echoes within their minds: how long do we have?

yet, the clock continues—tick, tock, tick, tock. it keeps going, and going, and going, like how everyone expects it. while everyone seemed to let time go, you still kept track of it all: birthdays, holidays, a graduation you never had.

the outbreak hit two years ago on the day of hyunjae’s graduation. cheers turned into screams. white togas and diplomas were splattered with red. the lively became lifeless.

you remember hyunjae’s hand in yours, fingers gripping you as if you were his life, as you charged out of the gymnasium, legs keeping up with the speed of his. you darted off to nowhere as images of the infected tearing people apart took up every block, all the way from skin to bone.

and while it was a rush of tragedies, hyunjae was the only hope you had.

“keep your eyes on me,” he glanced at you, eyes off the path as he met your gaze. “don’t look at them. only look at me.”

it was impossible to ignore the wails that filled your ears, but you would repeat his words—his soft-spoken voice—to drown them out.

by nightfall, you and hyunjae found yourselves in a motel room, skin cleaned from blood splatters and dressed in clothes that engulfed your figures, and in each other’s arms on a twin-sized bed. the duvet that wrapped around you two is thin, not at all keeping you warm for the night, but the warmth of hyunjae was enough to provide you a sense of security—stability amidst the ever-changing world.

he whispered into the crown of your head, words meant to dispel your fears, all while you sobbed into his shirt. there was nothing that he could do but stay strong for you.

and for a few days, that room acted as your safe haven. the time spent within those four walls is the life you imagined your future with hyunjae. it would’ve been in a two-story house with a garden where a singular orange tree stands, lounging on the couch as you played movies to fall asleep to, but all you had was an old room with a carpeted floor with unrecognizable stains and a bathroom unable to fit two.

yet, you would choose this over anything. even if it meant eating instant noodles for every meal or sleeping on a mattress that ruins your backs, you would choose this if it meant hyunjae would be with you.

still, time continues to move. hyunjae knew that you both couldn’t stay in that room or else the infected may reach you. so when you both went to bed on that last night, you outlined his features from the space between his eyebrows all the way to his lips, and you spent that time memorizing his warmth to carry with you for the rest of your life. you could only hope that he stays with you until the end.

after a month passed, you and hyunjae met changmin, an injured boy who only wanted to live. at first, hyunjae was hesitant to take the stranger in, but you wouldn’t allow yourself to live with the idea of abandoning someone in need. in a world where the infected have taken over, it only seemed right to help out others, save them from a fate they’re not ready to meet.

what started off as a pair turned into a trio. you’ve learned more about what it takes to survive in this life. long gone is the need for money to buy necessities; you need to scavenge if you want to live in an infected-ridden world. thanks to changmin, you and hyunjae got to learn about how to find supplies in every building that you pass on the journey.

but it’s not enough to know where to find food and bullets. hyunjae decided that it was only right to teach you how to use a gun. with every morning that came, you two spent hours learning how to hold, reload, and fire.

“don’t worry,” he told you as his chin hovered over your shoulder. you both stared at the tin can situated on a stack of boxes only a few meters away. “you won’t have to worry about fighting alone. i’ll be here with you.” as you exhaled, your eyes zeroed in on the target. “now, shoot.”

six months have passed, and you were happy that you were still a trio. changmin became your best friend over that time. his laughs were enough to shine glimmers of hope onto you. you were glad that you decided to help him off the ground and tend his bullet wound that day.

until you found yourselves retreating from the horde of infected.

time moves at a constant speed but it can become swift if it decides to. when you and changmin reached the doors leading to safety, you remember seeing hyunjae fighting off those who were once like you, bullets firing at their heads. you remember your screams, telling him to run to you—go to where it’s safe—so that you can keep having tomorrows with him.

yet, hyunjae glanced at changmin, nodding at him before his eyes met yours. you watched how his mouth moves, a soundless three-word phrase leaving him before the doors shut before you. you would’ve pried them open but changmin kept his arms around you, holding you back from letting the infected reach you, from letting hyunjae come back to you.

the wails that left you are enough to attract the infected. if only the infected were to burst through the doors, grab onto you and bring you to hyunjae, then maybe you would stop crying. yet, changmin dragged you away. you never saw him as your best friend after that.

a month passed, and you still refused to talk to him. the boy tried to strike up a conversation with you, trying to earn your laugh like he used to, but he was only met with a cold shoulder. with every brick he put, you smashed your sledgehammer against it, dispelling any hope he had in rekindling his friendship with you.

the two of you learned to live in silence, fighting for survival while dealing with the loss of the one who would always bring you both to safety.

until you came across another boy who pointed his gun toward you. his defensive demeanor reminded you of hyunjae, and you wondered if this was his doing—his reincarnation. but before he could pull the trigger, changmin saved you from meeting your fate.

somehow, the duo had turned into a trio once more. you still refused to talk to changmin, but would eavesdrop on the conversations he shared with the stranger. you learned that the new addition is named jacob.

but even the stranger wasn’t enough to fill the void that hyunjae left. with every nightfall, when the soft snores of the two boys filled your ears, tears streamed down your face as sobs threatened to spill out of your mouth. the palm of your hand wasn’t enough to muffle your weeps. behind your eyelids, hyunjae’s last words to you play on repeat—the ones he failed to say, the ones you’ll never hear again.

maybe if you didn’t leave that motel room then he would’ve still been with you, arms finding their place around your waist as he trails kisses all over you. if the outbreak didn’t happen, then maybe you would be living in that two-story house with him. maybe you would wake up to a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice by the bedside table and the warmth of his lips on your forehead. and maybe you could finally tell him yes before he slips the silver band on your finger—you could’ve grown with him until your hair turns grey.

the weight you carry never got lighter with time. the void continued to consume you whole with the goal of ripping you apart. as another month passed, another life was lost—not to the infected but to the raiders.

“changmin, you have to stay with me.” those were the first words you told him since hyunjae’s death. crimson continued to spill out of his abdomen through the gaps between your fingertips in the same way tears flow out. “jacob! find gauze, betadine, anything!” you never glanced at the stranger, keeping your gaze on your best friend whose eyes continued to droop.

still, changmin caressed your face, thumb wiping teardrops. as he slowly entered territories that you both knew he would never escape, he grinned at you one last time. “i missed hearing you. i’m glad you’ll be the last thing i hear.”

but you tried to tell him that you couldn’t be the last voice he heard. it should’ve been with someone he can imagine his future with, maybe in a two-story house or a cramped flat in an apartment complex. he deserves more tomorrows in the same way hyunjae did.

but time continues to move. it took him away from you in a matter of minutes, slithering away without a second thought and no regard for the value of life, and all you were left with was his temple—still, lifeless. as you sobbed into his shirt, still holding the wound, the warmth of jacob’s hand stayed on your back, moving along with your wails.

now, you carry the loss of two. it never got easier with time.

jacob still sticks with you. it only seemed right. stay strong in numbers as you wander off to nowhere, grasping at the loose ends of survival.

two weeks have passed. you and jacob got used to the new dynamic; while he goes hunting and you’re tasked with scavenging, you both played your roles in combat, ready for any raid or horde. when night would come, you both took shifts, keeping watch while the other got some shut-eye.

until that one evening.

you recall the sounds of wood crackling from the fire. it stood strong against the breeze—burning, shining—surrounded by greens that latch on browns. hues of amber cascaded over your skin, painting you with warmth—it’ll never compare to the one you craved. your eyes drifted to jacob who sat across from you, his eyes trained on the fire as he rubbed his palms together. perhaps he craved the same type of warmth you longed for.

“we used to be three.” his eyes snapped towards yours. “before you came, we used to be three—changmin, me, and—” it rose in you like bile, wanting to escape but never leaving. “we were three then.”

you glanced at the fire that continued to burn. “we met changmin a month after the outbreak, spent six months together until—” the claws of the void struck against your throat, holding you back from sharing with the stranger what your life was before he came. while you never found the right words to say, jacob never pushed, letting you say what you wanted to share while filling in the blanks on his own.

“i resented changmin after what happened.” you moved your gaze to jacob whose eyes never left you. “refused to talk to him. refused to forgive.” and you remember how you hesitated, taking a deep breath in before sputtering out the next sentence. “refused to accept.”

nine months ago, the outbreak didn’t happen. nine months ago, you were attending hyunjae’s graduation. nine months ago, you two were imagining your tomorrows—together, for eternity.

and those nine months fractured all hopes and dreams; the glass is now littered with cracks, ready to burst into shards.

“but i think about the last time we saw changmin,” the image of him sitting in front of you all frail, treading the line between life and death, flashed in front of you; it’s quick but strong to remind you of what’s lost. “and i wish i could’ve learned how to forgive during those two months.”

but it was an impossible request. how could you ever forgive a boy you’ve known for only six months for taking your future away? how could you forgive a world that took him away? how could you forgive and live?

and still, you did.

you left it at that. they were enough. so when you told jacob that you’ll take over tonight’s shift, he never asked to hear more. instead, he laid near the campfire as you keep an eye out.

and once enough hours have passed, you allowed yourself to sob like other nights. the breeze that passed through branches reminded you of changmin; rustling leaves imitated the giggles of the boy you’ve only known during the apocalypse.

the wind that grazed against your skin should’ve been a nuisance, but the warmth of the fire wrapped you up like the duvet in that motel room. and you don’t complain—it’s the only part of hyunjae you have left.

the heat was enough to last you the night, but the chill of reality sent you back to the void.

that night, jacob listened to your sobs. not one of you got enough rest for the journey.

another two weeks went by. you two got into a better groove of the routine; instead of hunting and scavenging in silence, you and jacob found yourselves talking more about your lives before the outbreak. you learned that he was born the same year as hyunjae, and he shared that he had plans to pursue music.

“if the world finds a cure to this mess, you have to promise me that you’ll get me front-row tickets to your first show.” it was a joke. in what world could there be a cure for the infected? but the wishful thinking of what could be—what could’ve been—is all you had left.

still, jacob promised you that.

that night, you two stayed in the living room of an abandoned house. instead of lighting the fireplace, candles were placed on the coffee table. they shined in the middle of you two, you who stayed on the couch and jacob who sat on the mattress lying on the floor.

“where were you?” his eyes met yours. “on the day of the outbreak, i mean.”

he leaned back, hands resting on the mattress before he looked once more at the wax that continued to melt. “it was my graduation.” it hit you like a sudden downpour on a sunny day. “i was next in line to go up on the stage until the infected came.”

and when you said the name of the university, his gaze met yours as his shoulders stiffened. “m—my hyunjae.” it’s the first time you spoke of his name, and the sight of jacob’s eyes widening over it was enough to speak for himself.

“i—i didn’t know,” he whispered, but his words were loud enough to shatter glass. “i only spoke to him a few times. he spoke of you with so much love.”

your heart skipped beats; it should’ve been enough to send you off into the same territories where hyunjae and changmin now stay. your mouth turned dry as jacob’s voice morphed into radio silence.

before you knew it, the two of you left the information to hang in the air as you tried to drift into slumber. the clock continues to tick. minutes turned into hours; time moves like it usually does once more.

yet, you were stuck in the same gymnasium, fixing hyunjae’s toga as you scolded him about how wrinkled it’s become—hey! you’ll go up on stage soon. we can’t take pictures of you like this. despite your words, he smiled at you before grazing his lips on your temple—his silent way of telling you the three-word phrase.

in a split second, you were off the couch. you barged out of the house, clutching your chest as the knot constricted your throat, and your feet dragged you off to nowhere. every sound has turned into a buzz—only the voice of hyunjae being the one clear thing amidst the hysteria.

before you knew it, you stood before a horizon of green. it takes only one step into the woods, alone with no protection, for you to meet your demise. you would’ve charged into it in the same way you would’ve charged out to save hyunjae that day.

all it takes is one step, and—

“what are you doing?!” a pair of hands gripped your shoulders, spinning you around until you were face-to-face with the last form of life that you know of. his breaths were short as his fingers dug into your arms. “you can’t just rush out in the middle of the night! i woke up worried sick.” his eyebrows knitted in frustration. confusion. distress.

the voice was caught in your throat. how does one begin to unpack the baggage they’ve learned to carry? when the items they bring are revolting, rotten, repugnant, how does someone not feel shame about showing all the tattered-up objects? how do you learn to open up to someone you’ve only known for three months?

your hands trembled; you’ve carried the weight of it all for too long.

in that split second, your nose met the juncture between his chin and shoulder. the material of his shirt against your cheek allowed you to bathe in what you miss—the hand of changmin that once caressed your face, the lips of hyunjae that lingered with every kiss. all the moments that you hoped time would freeze just for you lives in the boy you stick with for survival.

all it took were jacob’s hands to rest on the lower side of your back for the tears to begin their stream. the sobs spill out. for once, they weren’t muffled like those other nights. they sounded throughout the space that surrounded you two. you allowed yourself to drop the baggage only for a few minutes.

jacob took you back to the house that night, allowing you to sob about all that you’ve kept under the wraps. when sunrise came, you found your legs mixed with his as his arms remained wrapped around you, and your ear pressed against his chest. the sound of his breathing is the one reminder of what a safe haven is.

half a year went by. jacob still stays by your side. the baggage got lighter.

it should’ve been the same routine; jacob goes off to hunt while you scavenge, and you’ll take turns on the night shifts. but that night shifted something between you two—stolen glances, quiet giggles, linked fingers.

two months have gone by. the moon shined through the trees, their shadows cascading on an abandoned cabin that you and jacob decided to stay in for that night.

it should’ve been the same set-up as other nights spent in abandoned houses; you’ll sleep on the couch while he sleeps on a dragged-out mattress. instead, he sat with you on the couch, your back resting on his chest along with his hand staying on your arm.

a lit candle rested on the table; its amber tones painted the jacob’s skin—close to the fruit tree that stands in your lost future.

“what would you do if there is a cure to this?” you watched how his fingers danced across your skin, calloused from plucking guitar strings or wielding a gun.

jacob’s chest rumbled against your back as he hummed. “what would you do?”

a giggle left you as you looked at the boy. “i was the one who asked you first!”

he shot you a grin as his hand slipped into yours. the candle continued to burn; it did a poor job of giving you light and warmth that night. but he did it all—one smile. one exhale. one indication to show that he lives.

“travel, maybe? or i’ll go back to writing music.” you nodded at his plans before looking back at the light source. “what about you?”

“i don’t know.”

there was no point in going back to university after such a catastrophe. if anything, the year spent surrounded by the infected, fighting for survival, has shown you that there’s more to life than the perpetual cycle of working a nine-to-five.

so…

“i would settle down if i could.” the wax continued to melt. “i think i’ve seen enough of the world. for once, i just want to stay home, indulge in my hobbies, live the life that i want.”

his breath grazed the top of your head. “with someone?” and suddenly, you became aware of it all—the heat that emitted from his palm, the movement of his chest against your back, the gravity of his question.

the words get caught in your throat. your heartbeat rang in your ears. for the first time since hyunjae’s death, you considered it.

“with someone.”

before you knew it, his hand caressed your cheek. you were forced to meet his eyes—they glistened with devotion. he leaned forward, his breath grazing your skin while you held in yours. you didn’t miss how his gaze flickered to your lips before he met your eyes once more.

then, he held back. it’s a choice, one only you can make. but when your eyes shut, it’s a quiet plea—a silent yes.

his lips met yours.

the warmth that blossomed in your chest wasn’t like the one in that motel room. not like the embrace of the one you’ve lost. it was one of all seasons—changing with the weather, bringing comfort throughout the everchanging times.

it’s a perpetual cycle of fighting for survival. you’ll endure through it all.

a month passed by, and you came across another boy on the journey. he’s named kevin, and he told you of a safe haven located in the town that you and jacob grew up in.

for a moment, it was an internal debate—should you go back to where the downfall started? can you go to where the memory of hyunjae still lives?

but one glance at jacob was enough to settle it. the three of you embarked on your journey.

you remember that day. it was a walk with the goal of finding a car to make the journey back an easy one. the heat of the sun prickled against your skin, but you still kept your arms crossed.

“are you two together?” kevin asked, causing you to whip your head towards him. your eyes met jacob’s for a split second—confusion, dejection—before they landed back at the stranger who kept his eyes on the path you took.

“no, we aren’t.”

for the rest of the journey, it was quiet.

sundown came, and you found yourselves in a convenience store for that night’s shelter. jacob was in charge of taking the night shift, allowing you and kevin to rest up. when the stranger went off to sleep on the makeshift bed, you were left alone with jacob.

you watched how he cleaned his gun with a rag stained with dark splotches. the moon gleamed through the window—it cannot compare to how jacob shines.

you needed to get some sleep is what you tell yourself. with one spin, you were about to make your way to where you’d sleep for that night.

“are we really not?” you halted in your tracks. you couldn’t look at him. “did it mean nothing?”

not a single answer left your mouth. your eyes remained straightforward, refusing to meet his gaze.

the warmth vanished with a lack of an answer. instead, it was replaced once more with the cold—the void—that attempted to consume you whole.

and when a scornful chuckle left jacob, you knew that you’d burnt the bridge. you walked away, leaving him to do his job, bidding farewell to the closest form of a safe haven.

two weeks went by, and another goodbye had to be done. kevin stood in front of you two, a grin on his lips while tears streamed down his face. his arm was out, revealing a bite mark. the veins near the wound had already turned black. he would’ve turned in a few hours.

“go out.” those were jacob’s first words to you since that night in the convenience store.

you remember the last thing you told kevin before you left the room—you’ll get to your safe haven. the sobs that spilled out of him are ones you’ll never forget. and when you shut the door behind you, it took 20 seconds until you heard a gunshot.

the weight got heavier once more.

another two weeks went by, and you and jacob found yourselves standing in front of the remains of a safe haven. the fences were torn down. streaks of dark red littered over pavements. not a single sight of a soul lived.

still, you two trudged your way through the town, all the way until you reached jacob’s house. like others, his was abandoned. the cream walls were littered with red strokes and vines. when you both entered, you didn’t miss how jacob’s eyes lingered on a photo hung on the wall—a picture of him, his brother, and his parents.

you gave him all the time he needed to explore, to sit with the mess, while you stayed in the living room. as you sat on the couch that had gathered dust, you caught sight of a bowl of plastic produce that rested on the coffee table. it held a variety of fruits whose paint had chipped: watermelon, chestnut, and fig.

but amidst the crowd of old, torn-down, plastic fruits, a pear and an orange leaned against each other as grime collected on them. once your hands reached out to the fruits, you pulled them apart—a mess of green and orange stained the two.

he came back to you in 30 minutes, eyes glistening with tears. yet, he only gave you a nod, and you two went to another house.

you then stood in front of your old house with jacob by your side. weeds grew in the front yard, and the wooden exterior has turned a few shades darker. silence settled between you two.

to be back in a place you grew up in, where all your memories live, is a process—a grieving one. being face-to-face with the damage brought by the infected can only remind you of what you had and could’ve had.

and once you made your way to your childhood room, you were reminded of all your hopes and dreams before the outbreak. dust rested on top of books. the laptop on your desk had no charge. potted plants have withered.

when you approached the picture frames found on your table, your hand darted out to a photograph of you and hyunjae. there was no occasion when that picture was taken—the fact that you two were together was enough for it to be remembered. memorialized.

as you made your way back down the stairs, you saw jacob crouched in front of the console table with eyes. trained on photographs. “was this your high school graduation?” you approached him and saw the picture he was referring to, you who stood beside hyunjae with a big grin as his lips were on your temple.

“yeah,” you said as you crouched beside jacob. “we knew each other back when i was a freshman.” your fingers trailed on the wooden frame, gathering the dust before flicking it away. despite your efforts, it was still covered in grime, but you didn’t mind.

“and you stayed together since?” all you did was hum. “did you find anything up there?”

for the first time since you entered your old house, you looked at jacob and he met your gaze. your eyes trailed his features. the eyes that speak of a thousand words. the lips that once kissed yours.

and it hit you like the gunshot that filled your ears, the breeze that rustled the leaves that one night, the doors that shut close. it was 20 months since the outbreak happened, 13 months since you lost hyunjae, and 11 months since changmin told you his last words—but it was also 13 months spent with jacob, choosing to survive with him.

“yeah.”

you found a lot of things within those four walls. there were books you once read growing up, stuffed toys you slept with, and the one picture of you and hyunjae; they’re the remaining pieces you have left of a life that was good.

you would’ve kept it all, rebuilt the life that was ripped away by the hands of the infected—

“but nothing to hold on to.”

they’re memories, ones you’ll carry with you, but ones worth moving on from.

“oh,” he said as his eyes still held your gaze. “okay.”

and with one exhale, you said, “let’s rebuild it, just a place for us two.”

it was a whirlwind of emotions in jacob’s eyes, ones you can’t identify. for a moment, you thought he’d say no. maybe he decided that 13 months was enough. one more day with you would be too much, and—

“okay.” when his hand reached out for yours, linking fingers with you like all other times, you gave him a small smile.

when you and jacob stood up, you made your way out of the house, off to find a place just for you two—a safe haven to last you many tomorrows with him.

a month passed. the safe haven was rebuilt; the fences stood strong with electrical wires and barbed wires, and the town was cleaned of all remnants of grime and blood. the two of you took up different tasks ranging from cleaning, cooking, building, and maintaining the haven.

but while you were okay with a knife, accidents did happen. “fuck!”

“what happened?” you remember how jacob came rushing in, only to see you pressing on the skin around the cut on your finger.

before you knew it, you were sitting down with him as he wrapped gauze around the wound. “jacob, it’s just a cut. i’ll be fine.”

“still, i don’t want you getting hurt.” you watched how his eyes were focused on treating your finger. “i’ll be in charge of cooking now.”

you shook your head. “no, i like to cook. i want to cook for us.” his gaze then met yours, his filled with worry while yours filled with determination. they flickered back to your finger, and his hands busied themselves with covering it up.

once he was done, his hand continued to hold yours. you remember the heat of his thumb as it drew patterns on your hand. he’s etched himself onto you.

his eyes met yours once more, and he said, “okay, just let me help out.” all you gave him was a nod.

another month went by, and you woke up to the sound of gunshots. you remember how hazy your vision was that night, fresh from sleep but panic coursing through your veins. and when you looked beside you to only see an empty spot, you didn’t think twice about rushing out of bed.

when you exited the house, you saw jacob holding his gun, firing at the people who attempted to tear down the haven’s fences. “jacob!” when he looked back at you, you caught sight of the crimson that poured out of his abdomen.

another gunshot was fired, grazing jacob’s leg, and he fell to his knees. you ran to him, reaching out to rest your hand on the wound as you began to sob. “fuck! you have to stay with me.” with his arm resting around your shoulders, you dragged him back to the house.

you set him on the table and moved his hand to hold where he was shot. “hold it.” you rushed to where the medical supplies were stored and gathered whatever you could hold. when you got back, you saw how blood continued to spill out.

you got to work, focused on trying to patch him up—making sure he stays. “you can’t go. i won’t let it happen.” and while your hands busied themselves with treating the injury, you remember how jacob’s hand caressed your cheek, thumb wiping away the spilled tears.

“in the basement, there’s a piece of paper that has all the codes. if you ever—”

“no, you’ll be okay.”

still, he continued to talk. “if you ever forget the codes, you can always look at the paper. don’t forget that you need to always check the water system every two days, and—”

“jacob!” you croaked out his name in between sobs. “you’ll be okay. you have to, okay?” the more he went on about what to keep in mind, the baggage got heavier. “i can’t do this without you. i won’t allow it.”

because 15 months ago, you would’ve bid farewell to the mayhem. 13 months ago, you hoped for time to drag you away. 12 months ago, you would’ve walked into the forest. but it’s been 22 months, and you were still walking on this earth, choosing to live amidst the chaos—so long as jacob was with you.

and when you leaned your forehead on his, eyes closed, you felt his breath graze against your lips. “i need you.”

all it took were three words from you. “okay.”

it’s been two months since that happened. the safe haven was rebuilt once more. you and jacob fortified the defense system, hoping they’ll be enough to keep any infected and raiders out. all that matters is that you two were protected—safe—from the chaos.

now, you sit on a couch as you flip through the pages of a book you didn’t have time to read before the outbreak. when all responsibilities vanished, you were able to find enough time to do things you couldn’t do then.

you were ready to get yourself sucked into the world of the novel, but jacob came into the living room with his hands behind his back and a small smile on his lips. “do you remember what you made me promise you before?”

you frown at him, confused, until he shows you an acoustic guitar. “oh my god, you found one?” you put the book on the coffee table.

he takes a seat beside you, body facing towards you as he rests the instrument on his lap. “here, first-row tickets to my first show.” you almost laughed because this is no stadium or club, but a home—one you built with him.

it takes only one smile from him for you to hold it back.

“any song requests?” he strums on the guitar strings, perfectly in tune. it’s almost as if he tuned it before coming to you.

a hum leaves you as you rest your head on your hand propped on the couch. “whatever you want to show me.”

it takes him a few seconds, fingers fiddling with the strings, until he figures out what to play. when he sings out the words—dearest, darling, my universe—you melt like the candles you lit up those nights. as he continues to play a song of a world in hysteria but a love that endures, that’s when you realize what you’ve had all this time.

time is the one thing that occupies your mind. it holds value, something that shouldn’t be wasted, and you learned to revolve your life around it.

it takes you two years to figure out that life doesn’t end after the outbreak—and 17 months to realize that your safe haven is not a two-story house with an orange tree in the garden but the boy in front of you.

when you lean closer to him, his fingers falter, messing up the chords. your hand reaches out to caress his face as your eyes flicker to his lips. you don’t miss how jacob holds his breath, how he stops playing the guitar, how his eyes look back at yours—it’s a slurry of warmth, tenderness.

“i love you.”

all it took was a three-word phrase from you for him to close the distance.

the warmth that spreads within you is like the one you experience in the abandoned cabin. but now, you’re full of hope—a reason to stay—in an infected-ridden world.

now, only one question echoes within your mind: how much longer do we have?

an eternity is what you hope.

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sungbeam · 7 months

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞

agent!kim sunwoo x agent!fem!reader

6.3k words, enemies 2 implied lovers?, spy au, angst, action, swearing, depictions of violence/blood/weaponry, drinking, UNREALISTIC STANDARDS FOR HOW LONG SOMEONE CAN BLEED OUT T_T, mentions of murder and death, i think that's the bulk of it?

a/n: requests now closed! omg i actually had quite the trouble writing this one 🤧 but i hope it's still enjoyable!! thanks so much @shakalakaboomboo for ur req <3

There was something about the rain tonight that would make the smell of blood even more distinct. The moment you stepped out of the cab, you were hit by a wave of hot, all-consuming heat, accompanied by the insistent drumming of the downpour. The near abandoned streets tonight were doused in the scent of petrichor, and you blinked the water out of your eyes as you made your way toward the entrance of the building of interest.

Just as you had expected, Chanhee had logged your identification into the system, and your card alerted green with no problem. The man standing guard by the scanner passed you a nod. “Evening, Miss.”

You gave a nod back, sweeping your hand through your drenched hair to get it out of your eyes. “Good evening. Is there a bathroom nearby? I’m kind of new to the building.”

He pointed down the hall, around the corner. “Right that way. Have a good night.”

“Thanks, you, too. Stay dry!” You added the last part with a lighthearted smile, coaxing a similar expression from the guard who no doubt had a long night ahead of him. If everything worked out okay, he would still be able to leave alive. If everything worked out perfectly, then everyone could leave this building alive tonight.

You winced to yourself as the soles of your shoes squelched with each step, the shiny marble floors becoming even more shiny as water dripped down to form a trail to the bathroom. You found the ladies’ washroom right where the man had said it would be and let yourself in.

You saw his reflection before you even saw him. Your heart leapt in your chest, but that slowly came back down to Earth when your brain processed who it was. Eyes narrowed, you went over to the middle stall and enclosed yourself within.

“Took you long enough,” Kim Sunwoo, the bane of your existence, drawled. He stood outside of the stalls, leaning against the sink counter, with his body fully equipped with all the necessary items. He seemed to be fully dry, despite it having rained cats and dogs outside. The suit was dry, his hair was dry. Everything about him was pristine and neat and ready to go—howdy doo.

You glared at the door as if you were Superman with x-ray vision and laser eyes. There was a garment bag hanging on the back of the stall that you swiftly unzipped to swap out your drenched clothes with. “What the fuck are you doing in the women’s restroom, you perv?”

“Well, the only other person in here is you, so I wouldn’t say it was much of a scandal. It’s just you, after all,” he replied snidely.

You shivered as the air hit your cold, wet skin, and you hobbled into the pair of dress slacks that were given to you. You really hoped that Chanhee hadn’t given you a pair of chunky loafers just for “fashion’s” sake this time. (You appreciated his fashion advice on any other occasion, except when you were on an assignment.) To your relief, they were a simple pair of flats, and you dug out a note in the left shoe with Chanhee’s scrawl: Found the most boring, “practical” pair of shoes in the closet. You’re welcome.

“Do you ever worry about sounding like an asshole?” You voiced out into the echoey bathroom as you buttoned up your blouse and donned your suit jacket. “Oh, wait. I forgot that assholes don’t have to worry about sounding like an asshole.”

You could hear his eyes roll from behind the door.

Once you were done, you shoved all your sopping wet clothes into the garment bag and stepped out of the stall to twist your hair up and off your shoulders. Sunwoo eyed you from his little corner. There was a screen propped in one of his gloved hands as he went over the schematics of the building and where the two of you needed to go to retrieve the required target before the auction.

“Are we ready, princess?” He asked sarcastically while you double checked the weapons and tools hidden in certain parts of your clothing. Knives, ammo, lock picks, and a gun.

You ignored his mocking nickname for you. "Do you have the money?" You asked him as you both started making your way to the bathroom door.

"No." He nearly crashed face first into your back from how abruptly you stopped. He frowned. "Can you move—?"

You whirled on him. "We can't go to an auction to bid on an item without money," you said, feeling your pulse rise in your neck.

"We can," he huffed, reaching around you to open the door and usher you out, "if we're not there to bid."

"Since when were we not going to bid for it?" Your head went on a swivel, voice low, as you stuck close to Sunwoo on the way over to the private set of elevators further down the hall. It was awfully quiet in the lobby, save for the sounds of your breathing and footsteps.

Sunwoo passed you his device and reached into his jacket pocket to toss you a card on a lanyard. "Since Changmin and I decided it would be easier to just steal the damn thing instead."

Your head raced as you skimmed through the schematics and plans that Sunwoo and Changmin had come up with. These were blueprints of the auction room, neighboring rooms, and vents. Yeah, chunky loafers would not have done you any favors tonight.

But footwear wasn't the problem. The problem was that half the team had gone and decided on a whole new plan without consulting the other half. You jammed your finger against the "up" button to summon the elevator. "Of course, you would go behind my back and just decide this."

He tucked his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable. "The director already okayed it. Plus, they weren't willing to give us more money than they approved of."

The elevator doors opened, and the both of you stepped inside. Sunwoo reached over and jammed his thumb against floor forty-two.

You leaned your head against the elevator wall, eyes fluttering closed. You would have throttled the director for not approving of more money being put towards this assignment. You thought it would only make sense since the flash drive that was being auctioned off tonight contained such highly sensitive information. It just didn't make sense.

"If we won the auction the right way," Sunwoo suddenly said as you mentally cartwheeled through about a dozen potential scenarios and concerns, "that would simply put a target on our backs for those who want it. Stealing it first would keep our identities low profile."

You had to admit that his words had some reason to them. You watched the numbers on the elevator tick-tock its way up to level forty-two. "So what's the plan, Oh Mighty One?" You asked, inspecting the card on the lanyard around your neck. It had the same identification as the card you'd used to get into the building, but this one had a special seal in the corner that would no doubt be used to get you into the auction itself.

"You're gonna cut the lights, and I'm gonna steal the drive."

Your head whipped toward him. "You're shitting me. I'm not a man-in-the-chair, Sunwoo."

"Never said you were," he said. "It's just too risky to have us both go for it."

Something creeped into your chest and your fingers clenched around your lanyard. "Don't give me that bullshit," you said, having to pull back a full-on snarl. "Just say you have zero faith in me to my face." It was just like the academy all over again. You could hear his taunts egging you on from across the sparring mat, could envision his gaze cutting toward you with every first rank he received. He was good at almost everything, while you had to haul ass to even get to second.

You were so sick of being underestimated.

He considered you for a moment, but you couldn't look him in the eye, choosing instead to stare straight ahead at the steel doors of the elevator. He opened his mouth to say something, but the elevator slowed to a stop and the two of you had to walk out onto the floor.

The two of you fell into step with one another as you made your way down the hall to the large pair of doors at the end. There were two men stationed on either side, dressed in the typical dark suits and earpieces. Attached to their belts, you noted the shotguns hanging there. If you could get closer, you might be able to identify the model…

"IDs," said the one on the right when you and Sunwoo approached.

You and Sunwoo held your cards face up, and both guards took a device from their back pockets to scan the seals in the corner. When their devices lit up green, they reached for the doors and beckoned you through.

The auction room itself looked cavernous with its wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, ceiling dripping with panels of modern lighting, and pedestals littered about the room like a fancy showroom of expensive black market items. You and Sunwoo stuck together mainly, thankfully not sticking out like a sore thumb thanks to the business smart attire you'd changed into. There were a few people with more luxury branded garments on, but other than that, it seemed Chanhee had hit the dress code right on its nose.

Sunwoo tapped you on the arm with the back of his hand, his fingers subtly marking out the chairs, the second floor railing around the perimeter of the room, and the guarded door by the foot of the stage. "We need a distraction to get in there. Once we get inside, we'll have plenty of time to grab the thingamajig since it's the last on the—"

"Hold on—the thingamajig?" Your face screwed up in incredulity.

"Are you judging? Why are you judging?" He asked, plucking twin flutes of champagne off an orbiting waiter's tray. He handed you one. "Drink this. Act natural."

You rolled your eyes and chugged the glass. While you did think Sunwoo was good at a lot of things, alcohol tolerance was one of the few where you came out on top. Right now, you were going to take full advantage of it because that liquid courage was definitely needed. "You say that like I've never done this before, lightweight."

"Oh, shut up."

You and Sunwoo lingered for a moment, pretending to eye the list of auction items being displayed on the flat screen on stage. According to the countdown timer, the two of you only had a few minutes before—

The lights went out.

A gasp fell over the crowd as you placed your empty glass on a nearby table and grabbed Sunwoo by the upper arm. "That wasn't you, was it?" You whispered to him, making your way toward the side of the room where the back door was.

"Yes, because I can control electricity with my mind," he hissed back at you.

"Everyone, please remain calm—" a man had stepped onto the stage and was attempting to placate everyone in the room. He had his hands held out, an easygoing smile on his face. All of the guards and staff members were holding up emergency flashlights, and a few other guests were beginning to pull out their cellphones.

Yours and Sunwoo's eyes darted from the crowd to the man guarding the back door. To your surprise, you saw the man pause at something in his earpiece, before turning around to enter the door he was guarding.

"Fuck, catch the door," you said to Sunwoo, grabbing the glass out of his hand and shoving him toward the door.

He launched for it, barely shoving his body through the opening before it clicked shit. He grimaced as you caught up to him. "This door is fucking heavy," he said, baring his teeth at you when he noticed you were trying to prevent the champagne from spilling. "Can you put down the damn alcohol, Ln?"

"It might come in handy," you quipped, slipping in through the door behind him.

When the door shut behind you, the hallway was encased in darkness, save for the haunting red EXIT signs above your heads, one at each end of the hallway. You followed Sunwoo's lead since he'd been the one to study the blueprints of this place, your free hand grazing over the pistol hanging from your belt beneath the flap of your suit jacket.

"What the hell happened? That wasn't one of us, was it?" You voiced into the dark.

Sunwoo had whipped out a small flashlight and put the butt in his mouth to hold while he jimmied the opposite door open. "Mm-mm," his answer was muffled, but you knew what he meant. The door fell open a little too easily, and Sunwoo only cocked his head in curiosity for a moment, then he was moving forward.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up when you heard voices echoing from somewhere within this next room. The AC was jacked up to a decently high power here, keeping the room cool and dry for all the items that were supposedly being auctioned. This next room was a labyrinth of shelves, and through them, you could make out the movement of lights slicing through the spaces.

"This feels too easy," you murmured to your partner as the two of you peered through the cracks between shelves.

"Yeah, no kidding," he muttered back. "I think somebody is trying to steal something, too."

"The drive?"

"Could be."

The voices came closer, footsteps shuffling and light swarming through the shelves like visible beams through a thick fog.

You grabbed onto Sunwoo again and yanked his arm over your shoulders. You felt him stiffen. "Act drunk, you idiot," you instructed into his ear, "and when they get close enough, do the thing."

He sent you a look. "The thing? And why do I have to be the drunk one again—"

"Freeze!"

Both you and Sunwoo's heads shot up as bright lights blinded your vision. You couldn't tell how many there were—two? Three? But you felt Sunwoo relax in your hold as he sunk into the role you'd assigned him.

"I'm so sorry," you lamented, holding up the flute of champagne in your hand. "My friend over here just drank waaay too much at the open bar and started wandering."

The lights were nearing. "How did you two get back here?" Asked the same voice.

"The door was unlocked during the power outage! I am so—" Your eyes found the circle shapes of the muzzles of handguns being pointed at you and your partner when they had neared enough, "—sorry. We're just a little lost now."

You squeezed Sunwoo's side as you hobbled the two of you closer to the lights like a damsel in distress. "Just point us in the right direction and we'll be—"

If you didn't know Sunwoo like you did, you probably wouldn't have even registered what just happened. But within the blink of an eye, you felt him leave your grasp, and you tossed the glass of champagne at one of your opponents. "Hey, catch!"

On instinct, the one across from you had to drop something to catch the flying glass of champagne, and unlucky for them, it happened to be their gun. Your foot kicked that sucker like a soccer ball beneath the nearest shelf. You grabbed the champagne out of their hand—thanked them for holding it—then smashed the glass over their head.

Quick and easy, yet your heart was pounding against your chest. What the hell was going on?

When you were finished, you leaned down to pick up the fallen flashlight. Sunwoo was looming over his own opponent with his boot on the man's chest, and he pocketed the spare gun while the flashlight hung from his other hand.

You both looked at each other. "We gotta go."

"I can't believe you made me do the drunk scenario."

"Can you just shut up and focus?"

Navigating the maze of shelving was a lot easier with the flashlights. At least now, both of you could see where you were going without fear of anyone else catching you. But when neither of you found the so-called hard drive you were tasked with retrieving, you were met instead by another door leading out to another unknown location.

Sunwoo dove in headfirst. (Right, he studied the maps. Ugh.) "I have a feeling someone's taken the drive already, so be prepared to shoot."

The next room was a long corridor that sloped downward toward a lone elevator. Creepy.

You scowled. "Like I'm never prepared to shoot?"

His gaze was equally as disgruntled. "Just because you got the highest marks in all of our projectiles classes doesn't mean you'll actually shoot."

That remark was something akin to an arrow to your chest. A muscle feathered in your jaw as he called the elevator up to the floor. "You were the top of class in projectile training; you have a license to kill; and yet, you have zero kills in your stats."

How the…? "I don't have to kill to execute my objective. Those aren't assignments I take," you countered, stepping into the elevator when it opened its jaws for you.

Sunwoo crossed his arms over his chest. "Ln, you didn't even take the gun away from the guy earlier. That is protocol."

"I have a gun—"

"That's not the problem, and you know it." He snarled. He took a step near you, both of your tensions rising, heat boiling between your two gazes, nostrils flared. "Just think about it, huh? How many times could you have made it easier on yourself by shooting your way out of something? You know what I would do to have an aim like yours? It's a fucking gift in this field, Ln. And yet, here you are, too scared to even hold a gun—"

You stepped into his space, got up in his face. "You know fucking nothing about me, so quit acting like you do," you snarled and forced the tremor out of your voice. Your hand fisted at your side, close to the weapon you were cursed and gifted to always be tied to.

His tongue poked the inside of his cheek and you were so close to him that you could measure the length of his eyelashes. "What in hell happened to you?"

The elevator dinged. You'd arrived.

You pulled away, mentally shaking yourself away from this conversation. "Don't start acting like you care now."

"I don't," he said as you both walked out of the elevator into a massive underground parking structure beneath the building. "I just need to know that I can count on you if we're in trouble."

"You can," you answered. But there was a microscopic break there, and you were certain he'd heard it, too. There was a question in his stare—he was never as good with guns, but he could fight his way out of a scenario just as well. You were the right choice out of the two of you for anything long range, but the question was if you could still live up to that one-trick reputation.

The underground garage created the perfect echo chamber for loud noises. You and Sunwoo simply followed the audible cacophony coming from further within the garage. Gun rounds were being unloaded without mercy, tire squeals were shut down by no doubt those same gun shots.

You wiped your hand on your pants, sticky from the champagne from earlier, as you and your partner pressed yourselves up against two columns. Just beyond, there was an active shootout taking place—which side had the merchandise, you weren't quite sure of.

Sunwoo signaled to you in a way you recognized from games of capture the flag at the academy. Two fingers swished toward the men behind the cars closest to him, then for you, the ones on your side. Heart hammering against your ribcage, you could only nod, and enclosed your fingers around the handle of the gun in your belt.

You blindly double checked the ammunition loaded up in your firearm, but it was futile since you'd already checked in the bathroom much earlier. It was loaded completely, and very much ready to fire.

You didn't need Sunwoo to signal, because you seemed to know exactly when the other was going to whip around the stone column and take one person out at a time.

Arm—one down—a leg, oh, was that a thigh?—but there went two off your side, as easy as shooting clay pigeons. Instead of a jitteriness filling your nerves, everything seemed to muffle and calm when you had a gun between your fingers. Like second nature, you picked off people (without killing them) before they even realized their mates were gone.

You would nail them in the arm, the shoulder, the butt, the leg, then duck behind the pillar for cover. Guns had become too easy of a game for you.

You barely even noticed that the others on Sunwoo's side started shooting at both of you.

"Fuck," you heard your counterpart curse as he pressed himself against the column.

The two of you connected gazes, and he didn't even have to ask before you were pulling down the hammer again and taking aim—

"LN—YN! BEHIND YOU!"

Your heart lurched into your throat, and you dove.

A line of bullets buried themselves into the concrete where your head had been, and you winced, feeling the burn of concrete through your clothes.

You rolled behind the nearest car, swearing as you clambered to your knees for cover. Somebody had set up a few cars behind you, ready to take you out with an automatic rifle.

"Sunwoo, you need to cover me," you shouted at him, glancing over your shoulder for his visual confirmation.

He gave a firm nod, already leaping into hand-to-hand action and ditching his gun for his more trustworthy melee weapons instead.

Through the windows of the car, you could just make out movement of the gunman. You crawled over to the other side of the car, tracking the feet and legs you could see beneath the vehicles. You reloaded your pistol, smacking the magazine into place, then pressing the hammer down.

Shots suddenly rained down on you, and you pressed yourself further to the ground.

"Come on, come on," you urged, "reload already."

And when you heard that beautiful sound of silence, you yanked yourself to your feet, pointed the barrel through the window, and shot. You heard the curse, and it was enough for you to whip over the back of the car and smack the butt of your gun into their head. The gunman went crashing to the concrete; you tucked your pistol away and picked up the automatic.

The heft of the gun was an old friend—it sank over you in cold realization… how much damage you could do with this.

With pursed lips, you emptied out the gun and kicked it under the car.

You rushed to line up a shot with your pistol to help Sunwoo who was juggling a fight against two others.

He didn't need that much help, but there was the glint of a knife, and you didn't even blink. The bullet buried itself in one of their shoulders, and Sunwoo elbowed him off his back, shoving the other's face into the car in front of him. He yanked his opponent's hair back and smashed their head into the metal again.

"You got it?" You asked him, sliding over the hoods of cars to get back.

He knew what you meant. Blood ran down his nose and there was a purplish cut on his lip. Sweat dripped down the side of his face as he dumped the now unconscious foe to the concrete. "Yeah, it went flying somewhere over there," he inclined his head down a row of cars, and you gave a nod.

The two of you jogged over in the direction Sunwoo asserted and began looking for the discarded drive.

You straightened after ducking beneath a car, but your eyes caught a flash of someone—your instincts lurched.

"Fuck, Sunwoo—!" You had the time to shove him out of the way as the rounds went flying past your heads and you tackled him.

Something pierced into the skin of your shoulder though, and you felt the bullet rip through your clothes and flay your skin as it passed. Your hand slapped over your arm as you fellz Sunwoo's stabilizing you. "Shit, Ln," he said, grasping your good side.

"It's the guy from earlier," you groaned, feeling the blood begin to pool.

"Huh? What guy—"

"The one I didn't take the gun from in the hall." The regret poured into you as swiftly as your blood flowed out of you. "I'll cover you—just find the damn thing."

He sent you a look, but nodded. "Okay."

You were lucky you hadn't been nicked in your good arm, you thought, as you clambered to your knees and peered over the edge of the car.

There he was, the man you'd smashed over the head with a glass. His forehead was bleeding profusely, but he still stumbled toward you, cocking his gun and firing. You ducked, crouching around the car to get to the other side. Mind racing for strategies, you thought you could easily take him down one limb at a time like the others.

All thoughts went flying out the window though when the man started barreling toward you, teeth bared, like a bull seeing red. You yelped as a bullet pelted the ground an inch from your hand. You ducked behind the car, ignoring the pain in your shoulder to palm your gun and aim.

You heard it hit its target.

But he just kept running.

"Are you serious?" You cursed, then regretting it immediately when he threw himself across the hood of the car to knock you down.

You cried out as your head hit the car behind you, the pain stabbing white in your vision. Adrenaline and fear pumped through you as you fought to keep his hands away from your neck. You even found where your bullet had lodged itself and pressed on it.

He grunted at the feeling, nearly twisting your arm off for that. You were trying, trying, trying.

His gun was gone; it didn't matter. You weren't good at hand to hand.

And your grip on his thick fucking wrists slipped. His hands were around your throat. You couldn't breathe—you thrashed around, smashed your gun against his face. He swept your efforts away, determination pressing his thumbs into the hollow—

BANG!

You saw the life drain out of his eyes. He fell over you, blood and a smoking gun sandwiched between your bodies.

Oxygen rushed into your lungs and you coughed. The realization hit you, a hammer striking against the percussion cap.

You just killed this man. You just shot him, point blank.

Oh god—you heaved his limp body off you, his blood staining your clothing, and you felt like Lady Macbeth, scrambling over blood that would not wash away.

"Yn!" Sunwoo's voice.

You wrestled to your hands and knees. "It's not my blood," you coughed, dry gagging at the sight of the pale body, rigid from rigor mortis.

Your mind was everywhere. Another one dead. What if he had a family? What if what if what if—?

"Ln, come on, you're alive. You can do it."

You were on your feet. There was a ringing in your ears from when your head smashed against the car.

Sunwoo ran over to you and threw your good arm over his shoulder to get you to the car he had broken into. "There you go. Hey, I got the drive. How 'bout that?" He wiggled a slim, black tab—the thing that had caused all of tonight's trouble.

You shook out the orbs dancing in your vision. How hard had your head been struck? "It still feels too easy."

"Don't say that," he groaned. "I just wanna get out of this place."

You really shouldn't have spoken so soon.

You heard the shot before you felt it; then the next one, then the next.

Sunwoo twisted around to shoot three rounds himself, silencing one of the people who had gotten the strength to pull himself up for one last try.

All breath left your throat as your hand reached for your lower abdomen. One of the bullets had gone through, piercing the side of your stomach. It had gone all the way through, back to front, the bullet lodged in the metal of the car in front of you.

You couldn't even see which blood stain was yours.

"Nonononono," Sunwoo chanted as your knees buckled and you started slipping to the ground. "Yn—Yn, stay with me," he urged, laying you gently on the ground.

The pain twisted itself until your eyes watered. You thought you tasted blood in your mouth. "Should've shot them dead like you said," you managed to say.

Sunwoo leaned over you, panic wide in his dark eyes as he held your face between his palms. "Yn, honey, you need to stay with me." He pressed his hands over the wounds opening and you screamed, the sound grating against his ears. He knew it hurt—god, he knew, but he needed to stop the bleeding somehow. Oh fuck.

"I'm sorry I screwed up so many times," you grunted to him. You tasted the iron coating your throat and suppressed the urge to cough it all out. You could barely think with the fucking hole in your stomach, but all you knew was that if he wasn't quick, the shot could be fatal.

"I'm gonna get you out of here." You could hear the resolve in his voice, but the shaky undertone, too. You'd never heard his voice shake before. "Don't apologize." Not until I get you out alive.

He scooped you up and you screwed your face up in agony. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your teeth clamping down on your tongue to muffle the screams. There was blood in your mouth.

It hurt. Fucking hell, it hurt.

He went through the motions of wrestling the car door open, laying you in the passenger seat, trying to find something to staunch the bleeding on both sides.

The whole time, you kept your eyes on his face, trying to ingrain his features in your memory. The blood from his nose had partly dried, but the cut on his lips made his bottom one even poutier.

You'd never seen him so worried, or scared, with the crease between his brows. You wanted to reach up and rub it away.

"Hey," you rasped, catching his wild eyes. "Stop fussing over me and drive."

He clicked his tongue, eyes darting between your face and the knot he was tying with the jacket he found in the backseat. "Yah," he said half-heartedly, "don't tell me what to do."

He passed you another glance before shutting your door and running for the driver's seat.

As soon as Sunwoo collapsed into his side of the car, the elevator, from which you'd come, slid open. A flood of guards in armor and equipped with automatic weapons flooded out in a tidal wave. You both swore a colorful line of words.

"Drive, drive, drive—!" You urged, breaking out into coughs, then doubling over when the motion only intensified the bullet wound.

"What do you think I'm doing, woman!" He yelled and the tires squealed as he pulled out of the parking spot to make a mad dash for the exit.

Bullets fired at the car, lodging themselves in the metal and cracking the back windshield. You heard the glass shatter, and you reached for your gun to try and knock some of them off.

Sunwoo shoved your hand down. "Oh, no you don't. Save your energy, hot stuff."

It wasn't until he had navigated you both away safely from harm's way that you really let everything soak into your head. Your blood marinated the car seat beneath you, and you could feel your energy being siphoned toward the gaping hole in your stomach. Reality dawned on you faster and faster.

Did you fear death?

The streets were empty; it was still raining. You were right about the hot rain—it made the blood scent bolder.

Sunwoo made a turn onto a street, and another, to take any lingering tails off.

"I killed someone tonight," you voiced out into the quiet car amongst the humdrum of rain. It drizzled in through the shattered back windshield and onto the backseat.

"It's okay, Yn," he said quietly. "You had to."

You paused, swallowing. You inhaled sharply and you swore you were starting to get used to the throbbing all over your body. "You… you were right."

"You don't have to do that. Save your en—"

"No," you said with more force. His mouth snapped shut. "I just—" your eyes drifted closed for a moment, "—I just wanted to get this off my chest."

When he remained quiet to give you the space to speak, you told him, "What you said in the elevator was right… I uhm, I feel like a coward when I can't stomach a headshot anymore. I just… Sunwoo, I hate who, or what, I become when I have a gun in my hands."

You felt him glance over at you. "You're not a monster, if you think that's what you are," he murmured. You felt his hand cover yours where you were holding your injury.

"I've hurt a lot of people," you admitted, eyes staring out the front windshield. "The organization told me to pull the trigger, and I did. Even in the academy, I never felt good enough unless I was hitting a target." It had become a momentary triumph only, until every hit made you sink deeper and deeper into guilt. You had been tearing yourself apart at the seams, and you could remember those moments, seeing the fallen with people who cared about them rushing to their side.

The twisting in your stomach suddenly didn't feel like it was from the gunshot.

"Your record—"

"My record is doctored," you said blankly. "They wiped it when I gave up being a sniper."

He meditated on that for a moment, his teeth biting down on his bottom lip. He winced when he was reminded of the injury there. "I know that I was and have been—not the greatest toward you—and... I'm sorry. I think some part of me just thought it would catch your attention—which is no excuse—but…" His finger tapped on the steering wheel in time with his blinker. "I always thought that you would go far regardless. I thought you'd be recruited as a sniper for the high profile shit."

A smile curled at the corner of your lips. "Yeah?"

He nodded, his own lips pressed together. "Yeah. The best, y'know? And I thought… at least as a sniper, you won't be in the line of fire."

Your chest throbbed. "I still got shot, too, though."

"Yeah, but…" He turned into a barren residential street, no doubt toward the safe house nearby. "They wouldn't be shooting at you, I guess. I dunno. That's what I was telling myself, anyway."

You shifted your head slightly to peer over at him. There was a sincerity to his words that you had almost never remembered hearing out of his mouth. You believed him—you believed that he cared. "Thinking about me in your free time, Kim?"

"You wish," he joked, but it was a weaker comeback.

The house he pulled up to was at the end of a cul-de-sac. It was the standard, cookie cutter suburban house, with its front lawn trimmed and windows dark and lifeless. Sunwoo carefully drove the car into the empty garage for privacy, then ran over to your side to help you out.

You could feel yourself falling out of consciousness with all the blood loss.

Your head was drooping as he picked you up in his arms again. The crease between his brows made a reappearance and with your last bit of strength, you reached up to gently rub it away with your thumb. "Hey… I'm gonna be okay," you whispered to him in the dark and quiet of the garage.

He swallowed, peering down at you. "You better be," he said. "Who's gonna have my back then?"

You smiled since you couldn't laugh. Maybe the blood loss was making you loopy (probably), but you swore he smiled just a teensy bit.

He managed to get you on the couch, and you whimpered at the surface beneath you. He disappeared for a moment, but when he returned, it was with a first aid kit and a phone. "I called headquarters; they'll be here in five," he murmured, kneeling next to you and beginning to peel off the blood coated fabrics.

You hissed, body squirming with whatever energy you had left. "I can't believe I'm still alive."

He huffed and gently applied pressure to the wound with gauze. "The only one who gets to kill you is me. Remember that."

"Yeah, yeah," you panted. "Sew me up or something."

"It's gonna hurt. Wanna hold my hand?"

Your eyes met his. "You're ridiculous." But somehow, he managed to make your heart lurch. Even bleeding out and halfway dead, he could make your heart rate spike.

He gave a shrug as he threaded the needle and you held onto the gauze for the moment. "You know what they say…" his voice softened when you both heard a familiar voice announcing his presence from the front door—Changmin. Backup was here. "Enemies make the best lovers, do they not?"

"Did it take me almost dying for you to think of that one?"

Changmin rushed in with a full kit in his hands and practically shoved Sunwoo out of the way. You bit on your tongue as the newcomer inspected your wound.

Sunwoo leaned over the edge of the couch and grappled at your hand, his other brushing the sweaty hair out of your face. "We're not done with this conversation, okay? You better not die on me."

You squeezed his hand when Changmin began stitching you up. "Wouldn't dream of it."

tbz m.list

#kflixnet #deoboyznet #bjnet #the boyz x reader #kim sunwoo x reader #sunwoo x reader #the boyz scenarios #the boyz oneshots #the boyz angst #the boyz drabbles #the boyz imagines #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo drabbles #sunwoo oneshots #sunwoo angst #sunwoo imagines #the boyz fanfic

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winterchimez · 27 days

Text

The Spy Who Loved Me | Lee Sangyeon

SUMMARY: you had a clear mission: find out what happened to the missing submarines and get your hands on the microfilm being sold illegally on the market. it was a fairly straightforward task, and you were certain that you would be able to complete it in no time—that is until you crossed paths with the infamous Agent 007 himself.

PAIRING: 007!Sangyeon x agent f!reader

GENRE: james bond / 007 au, spy, crime, angst, suggestive

WARNINGS: nc-17, its a james bond / 007 au so...expect it to be action-packed, mentions of blood, murder, mentions of gadgets and weaponry (guns, missiles, snipers), petnames (honey, sweetheart, princess), violence, Sangyeon is so goddamn flirty here i had a hard time writing this folks (expect loads of teasing and flirting from him 😃), kissing, making out

WORD COUNT: 9,276

A/N: here is my submission for the 007 files collab!! i've chosen the film the spy who loved me & obviously sangyeon (which later on i realised that i should not have wrote this film for him bcs i was going through a crisis...yall would know why as you read this 🫠) i tried my best...wished i could've executed it better but its done and dusted!! shoutout to @momhwa-agenda for always, ALWAYS, beta reading my works for me & that she's always there for me throughout the entire process 🥹🫶🏻💗

You weren’t too sure how you even managed to get yourself into the mess you were in.

Your mission was as clear as day: find out what happened to the missing submarines that had been stolen from the British and Russian army and to get your hands on the microfilm which contained illicit submarine tracking systems that were being offered for sale on the black market.

It all started out fairly smoothly—leave Russia at 5 in the morning to catch the earliest flight possible to Cairo and meet up with a man named Max Kalba, who apparently has his hands on the microfilm itself. By evening, you had safely arrived at the club after tracking his movements while scouring the bar. Sure enough, you eventually find him sitting at the corner of one of the rooms, enjoying the performance that unfolded right before his eyes.

After a few attempts to talk your way out with the club workers, you finally made your way towards the infamous man himself. You sat beside him and tried your best to coax him into handing over the microfilm.

That was until you heard a thud coming right next to you. The individual took a seat down with his glass of whiskey in hand, spinning his alcoholic beverage. At the same time, he attempted to cut right into the conversation you were having with Mr Kalba.

“Why, good evening, Mr Kalba. I’ve been eager to reach out to you-” he paused momentarily before moving his free hand to pick yours that was laid on the hems of your dress, leaving a gentle kiss on your hand. “It’s also my pleasure to meet such a beautiful young lady like you,” he winked.

The male was dressed in a full tuxedo, the suit tugging on his skin a little tight, which obviously shows that he has been hitting off the gym for quite some time. His brunette hair was parted to the sides, his shiny forehead out and shining brightly. He also paired his look with a pair of glasses, and you could’ve sworn that he probably wore a little lip tint, given the fact that his lips were a little too bright red than the usual men you have come across.

You were used to men swooning over you or using all sorts of methods to impress you because, respectfully, you weren’t labelled as one of the wisest yet most beautiful KGB agents in history. It was also part of your tactic to get them to fall for you first before you eventually turned the tables and used them to your advantage.

However, something in this person’s eyes seemed a lot different than the men you have encountered in the past. Something tells you that this man isn’t someone to be taken lightly off, as he looks back up to you with this malicious intent.

It was as if he was trying to tell you to challenge him.

What was he then? Was he after the microfilm just like you were?

After a few minutes of the male trying his best to break the ice between Mr Kalba, this whole facade that he has been working hard on finally comes to a halt as he leans over, intertwining his fingers, and stares intently at you.

“I would like to purchase the microfilm.”

As far as you knew, only the KGB agents were aware of the missing submarines and the microfilm being sold on the black market. You were certain that the general had made it clear to you that none of the other agencies or associations were aware of this matter, and it was strictly up to the KGB agents to deal with the case privately.

So who was he? Why did he know about your supposed mission?

The adrenaline came rushing all over you, and you needed to do something and act fast before the microfilm fell into the wrong hands.

“I would like to bid for a higher price, Mr Kalba,” you announced, leaning in close to the infamous man to give him a little whiff of your perfume, hoping he would fall for you. Sure enough, the man couldn’t resist the scent or your outfit before responding to the other male waiting patiently at the side.

“I’m sorry, gentleman. You heard the woman, and clearly, you’re at a disadvantage right here, don’t you think?”

“Well then, I suppose I just have to bid higher than the stunning woman herself, no?” he said confidently.

Mr Kalba was certainly intrigued and was ready to hear the male’s proposal before he got interrupted by one of his servants, ushering him out to another room to pick up an urgent call. Once he was out of the room, the male suddenly moved closer towards you, to the point that his shoulders were touching yours, leaving little to no space between you both.

“Who are you exactly?” you bluntly spat out, not giving him the opportunity to start the conversation, at least like normal strangers would.

“Aww sweetheart, that’s some very bold language you’ve got there coming straight out of your mouth. You don’t trust me at all, huh?” He leaned in closer till you felt his hot breath on your bare skin.

“You’re a spy; which agency are you working for?”

“That’s too blunt.”

“I’ve got no time to waste,” you replied.

Before the male could even give you a proper response, something made him turn his head immediately towards the other room. He stared at the locked door for a good couple of seconds. He immediately examined the room, not caring about your presence, causing you to trail him from behind.

Once he did manage to pick the lock, the both of you were met by the lifeless body of Mr Kalba, lying in a pool of his blood. The male immediately bent down to examine the body up close, shaking his head when he did not feel a pulse on his wrist. Before he was ready to leave the body, he noticed the marks that were left on the side of his neck, causing his eyes to widen at the sight of it before he began marching down the hallway.

You wouldn’t get your potential witness or suspect off that easily, so you decided to jump onto the vehicle he had stolen from outside the party—a food truck.

As you easily opened the passenger door and slipped right into the vehicle, the male glanced at you before diverting his attention back to the road and driving off into the darkness.

It seemed as if the male could tell that you had so many questions to dump on him, but he beat you to it before you could even open your mouth.

“Major Y/N is working for the KGB. An agent who has never failed a single mission and is always on the hunt for the most notorious criminals across the globe. A seductress, seducing men has always been your primary method to manipulate people and get them to cooperate with you-”

“Okay, you made your point,” you cut him off. “Now, tell me what made you decide that driving into the darkness in the desert is the most plausible reason, given the situation that we’re in now.”

“Honey, you’re a high-ranking agent from the KGB; I’m sure you have noticed the bite marks on the late Mr Kalba’s neck,” he replied nonchalantly.

Bite marks? You were confused. You definitely saw that the source of the blood was oozing out from his neck, but you never did witness bite marks upon the wound with your naked eyes. Could it be that you missed a crucial detail? And how was the man able to catch onto something you couldn’t?

Your stunned behaviour and look gave the male more than enough reason to believe that you couldn’t examine the body up close, so he did you a favour by telling you all about his thoughts and predictions.

“Those bite marks belong to a notorious criminal that you and I have been trying so hard to catch over the past few months, and I’m sure that will certainly ring a bell now.”

Sure enough, it did, and there was only one person you knew of who also committed crimes with the same modus operandi.

“Jaws.”

“That’s right, honey. Let’s go meet our man of the night, shall we?”

After hours of driving through the desert, both of you arrived at a seemingly deserted site filled with tons of broken-down monuments and statues.

There was absolutely no reason for anyone to come here at all, so you knew from the back of your mind that this would be the perfect hunting ground for Jaws as there was also barely any signal out here, making it nearly impossible to contact the headquarters if something tragic were to happen.

As the two of you stepped out of the vehicle, the male immediately took one of his free arms to keep you in place behind him. His other hand was busy reloading a Walther PPK 7.65mm to ensure that he was armed and ready should Jaws ever strike back. You decided it was best to follow in his footsteps while trying to be his other pair of eyes to scour the place.

The place felt eerily silent, almost way too silent. It was an abandoned site, and no one would be in the right mindset to come to a place like this. But the fact that both of you were on the hunt for a wanted criminal paints the situation differently.

Just when the both of you have reached the other end of the site, your sixth sense immediately tells you that something is going to happen within the next few seconds, and that is when you look up to see a brick falling right on top of the both of you. You immediately push both of you out of the way with your quick reflexes before a looming shadow falls upon the male himself.

It was Jaws.

The criminal was already armed with a broken wooden board in hand and began swinging violently at the male to hurt him. The unnamed spy was trying his best to dodge by landing a few punches onto the criminal, which was clearly deemed ineffective, given that Jaws was known for their brute strength and solid defence. Unlucky for the male, he actually took out quite a few hits from the wooden board—you were surprised that he was still standing strong despite having a few cut marks on his bare skin.

You quickly backed away and hid in a corner, trying to take out your revolver where you hid on the holster that was wrapped around your thigh and reloading it with bullets. You have encountered the criminal a couple of times in the past; you knew that normal bullets would do little to no damage to that man; his body was as solid as steel.

Instead, you looked around to see if there was something you could aim at to ensure that the criminal could be stopped momentarily while trying to save the agent who was fighting for his life. A minute passed when you finally landed your eyes upon a rope close to breaking off several metres high from the brawl between Jaws and the agent. There are a few stacks of abandoned materials that would knock them out for a while if they were to fall upon someone.

Quickly running in closer without being detected, you aimed your gun at the rope before mentally counting down for a few seconds before firing the shot. The shot was loud enough to make both males divert their attention towards you, and thankfully, the agent was able to catch on with your doing before he quickly ran towards you and grabbed your wrist to take you away from the site as the wooden boards and abandoned materials came crumbling down directly onto Jaws.

Rushing right back to the vehicle, you offered to drive as you deemed the male himself to be unfit for the driver’s seat (given the injuries he had sustained). As you peered through the rearview mirror, you could tell that Jaws was slowly making his way out from the crumble and would start charging towards you. Not wanting to allow him to do so, you stepped onto the accelerator and quickly sped away from there, not caring if you were going beyond the given limit.

After minutes of driving at full speed, you finally slowed down when you decided you had lost him far enough. Now, you can drive at your own pace while taking in everything that has happened throughout the night until that voice cuts you off from your train of thought.

“Geez, can you female agents not drive at an average speed? Where’s your sympathy for us sitting on the passenger seat?” He sulked.

“I think you owe me a “thank you” instead for what I did back there,” you replied bluntly.

The male could only respond with a smile before he took his hands off the handle and leaned back into his seat. “Actually, I think you might want to thank me instead.”

Right after he finished his sentence, he pulled out a little black USB containing the sole mission you were tasked with for the night.

The microfilm.

But now, it was in the wrong hands, and you needed to negotiate with the agent to find out how he knew precisely about this and who he was working for.

Composing yourself, you took a deep breath before politely asking the male, “What do I have to do to get my hands on the microfilm?”

“Huh, look at you, ready to pounce on me already? Did they not tell you to behave as an agent-”

“Cut off the wild thoughts. I’m only here from the microfilm, and that’s it.”

That was when the male began twirling the USB device on his fingers, giving you a little Yes-I’m-currently-thinking look, trying to rationalise with himself on what to do with you. “How about a glass of red wine while we gaze at the sunrise next morning?”

“What are you, a romanticist?” You growled back, feeling a little annoyed with the answer that he gave.

“Of course, darling. It’s one of the many reasons I always succeed at my job.”

“Clearly, those young ladies need to check their eyesight at the doctors.”

“Now, now…” he pouts before almost laying his hands to rest on your thigh but retracting when he saw that you were giving him the death stare as if you were about to ditch him out here right in the middle of nowhere if he ever had the guts to do so. “Hmph, you’re no fun.”

“What exactly do you want, Mr Agent.”

As you said those words, his flirtatious image began dying down, and he looked at you as if he were being drop-dead serious. You intrigued him, and he was now resting and leaning his arm on the winded-down car windows while he stared right into your soul.

“You’re not bad, Major Y/N. You definitely live up to all the expectations people label you as.”

So, he knew about your identity.

Instantly, you stepped on the break vigorously before pointing your loaded gun right into his face, forcing him to spit out whatever else he was hiding before anything else.

“Time is up. I’ve been patient enough to deal with your nonsense, but I’m done playing pretend. So you better tell me who exactly you are before I pull this damn trigger,” you threatened.

As he looked up and down from the gun to your face, he gently placed two of his fingers right on top of your gun before pushing it down gently so that he could lean in closer so that he was merely inches away from you now.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Major Y/N. The name is Agent 007, better known as Bond. James Bond. You will be coming with me instead, my princess.”

You couldn’t believe it when the general informed you that the Soviet agency would collaborate with British Intelligence. Right after that confrontation in the desert, Agent 007 took over the wheel and drove you both to a secluded area near an oasis, where he informed you that both generals from your respective agencies were already expecting your arrival.

As soon as you both met your superiors, Agent 007 wasted no time briefing the team about what he had found on the microfilm itself (apparently, he could examine it while you were speeding off from Jaws). Unfortunately, the crucial evidence from the film has been removed, and there isn’t much to go on with it.

That was until the infamous agent discovered a faded-off crest at the far end of the film. With Q’s help (the quartermaster of the M16), they could track down the source, which belonged to the famous scientist Karl Stromberg. However, his lab was located in Sardinia, which required a train and a boat ride to reach the island.

Luckily for you, you were pretty familiar with the place itself since you have spent much of your time there hunting down wanted criminals for the past decade, so you practically knew your way around the entire island.

However, it was also unlucky for you that both agencies decided that two brilliant minds like you two would prove to be worthy and crucial for the mission to succeed, causing them to make a pact, and they agreed that both agents would work together to fulfill the mission.

So here you are now, sitting in Agent 007’s car as he drives the both of you up to the highest mansion in Sardinia, making your way towards Mr Stromberg’s lab while posing as Agent 007’s wife.

Yes. Wife.

That idea irked you so much at the beginning, knowing that both of your first encounters with one another weren’t the best, and you certainly did not return the favour of him trying his best to woo and flirt with you. But you knew that taking on multiple identities was part of your job, and so was keeping your personal feelings and emotions out of the way while you were on duty.

With that, you decided to casually guide Agent 007 around the city, securely infiltrate Mr Stromberg’s lab, obtain the necessary information, and quickly leave the islands to return to headquarters.

It shouldn’t be that hard.

Right?

“Say, princess, tell me a little more about yourself.” Agent 007 broke the silence between you two, desperately trying his best to break down the solid wall of ice between you both since that first encounter in Cairo.

Yet, you had no interest in returning the favour and tried your best to turn him down. “I would suggest you drive safely instead. The rocky roads up to Mr Stromberg’s lab are pretty nasty if you’re not careful.”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about me. I’ve driven pretty much every single vehicle or transport out there. I could take you up in my very own helicopter for a little ride after this whole mission is complete.”

“Don’t bother. I will cut ties with you after we secure the microfilm.”

“Shame. I thought we were getting closer now that we’re partners.”

As soon as you heard the word “partners,” you couldn’t help but feel a sudden wave of anger rise upon you. You began raising your voice to respond to the male while swiftly turning your entire body towards his direction as well.

“You’re insane for thinking that we could ever be partners. Clearly, you don’t prove yourself to be worthy as Agent Seryozha-”

That was when you instantly slapped a hand to cover your mouth, trying your best to calm yourself down as you readjusted your sitting position. You have no idea why on earth this man irks you so much, to the point that you’ve messed up and even brought your lover—well, ex-lover—into the picture.

Agent Seryozha unfortunately passed when he was on a mission in Austria, and a week later, the missing submarines happened, and you were sent off to Cairo. Hence, you barely had time to grieve over your actual partner in crime before you had to convince yourself and everyone else that you’re nowhere near as affected by the sudden news.

But your now bright red face proved otherwise, and Agent 007 was able to catch on pretty quickly to what happened, and he immediately handed you a napkin from his side pocket while his other hand was still on the wheel.

“W-What?” You sniffled.

“Take it, honey. Wipe off the teardrop dripping down your face. It doesn’t look good on you.”

That was when you realised you were crying, and you quickly snatched the napkin away from his hands before drying your eyes. Things went quiet for a while, but he decided that you probably needed some comfort after all that had happened over the past several weeks.

Without saying a word, he instantly intertwined his fingers with yours, holding them tight while giving you a little squeeze to let you know that everything would be alright and you were more than welcome to let out those tears if need be. At this point, you desperately needed this for so long, someone who wouldn’t judge you, and that time could slow down for a little bit. With that, you shut your eyes tightly while letting the remaining tears fall straight down onto your hand as well as his, all while you tightened the grip of your hands with his, too.

After a good minute or two, when you finally could calm down, you mustered up all of the courage left within you to give him a simple answer: “T-Thank you…”

“Call me Sangyeon instead; we’ve now made a pact that we’re partners in crime on our new mission together.”

Thankfully, both of you could easily infiltrate Mr Stromberg’s lab without being detected. Once you got out of the car, you immediately showcased your professionalism by taking on the role of Sangyeon’s wife and linking your arms around his. He introduced himself as Lee Sangyeon, a scientist who was also into marine biology like Mr Stromberg. He was eager to share his recent discoveries with the infamous man himself.

Mr Stromberg strictly requested that only a few people enter his lab one at a time, so you had no choice but to stay in the common area with his assistant while your “husband” went off to attend some business.

Before he left, he quickly turned his attention to you and pecked you on the cheeks, which caused them to heat up fairly quickly. Then he smiled and gave you a little wink.

“I’ll be back real soon, honey.”

As Sangyeon and Mr Stromberg entered the elevators and brought them down to his official lab, you sat on the couch and quickly placed your palm on your cheeks to feel the heat. Unfortunately, your actions did not go unnoticed; his assistant remarked on them, making you feel ten times worse.

“Seems like you both are a newlywed couple, huh?” She smirked.

“W-What! No! I-I mean…what makes you say that?” You tried your best to keep your composure.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s how you both look at one another, especially your husband, as he came back to peck you on your cheeks. And look at you now, trying your best to reduce the redness and heat that’s rapidly rising,” she commented while moving her fist to cover her mouth as she giggled.

As much as you hated how she taunted you, you couldn’t deny every detail she had just pointed out in her speech. It was true, and you hated how Sangyeon was making you feel things and that you weren’t keeping your cool as usual.

You have made out with many men before this because of your mission, so a little peck on the cheeks would prove to be little to no concern for you. But it was different this time. It was the James Bond, his real name being Lee Sangyeon, who was actually making you feel this way, and you’re not sure what exactly your viewpoint on the man himself is anymore.

Not wanting to create more of a scene, you quietly looked down the entire time while playing with the hems of your dress, trying to calm yourself down and not having other unnecessary thoughts. Mentally, all you wanted was for Sangyeon to get the microfilm and get out of there quickly.

Perhaps this is something you have to discuss with Sangyeon about? You certainly can’t be going on like this forever; it would definitely be best if you both came clean and-

Wait. No. Absolutely not.

There’s no way the KGB's Major Y/N would be vulnerable to small matters like this. You have fought armies, destroyed nuclear weapons, and guided the Soviet army into war; there’s no way a little flirting or romance could crumble you like this.

Because that would be humiliating for you.

After what seemed like hours of waiting, Sangyeon finally returned. He immediately approached you, causing you to get up frantically from the couch before clearing your throat to get back into your supposed role.

“H-How was the discussion with Mr Stromberg, my love?”

“Oh, I assure you, honey, that everything went very well, and it’s time for us to move now.”

With that, you linked your arms with his before you bid farewell to the assistant as she showed the way out. Instantly, you both got into the vehicle and drove off from the lab, heading straight to the docks.

Again, it seems as if Sangyeon hasn’t had enough of the breaking-the-ice talks with you. He decided to keep the ball rolling and would constantly come up with something to discuss when all you wanted was peace and quiet.

Especially after what happened back at the lab.

“Honey, you’re still blushing,” he teased.

“Cut the crap, Sangyeon. We’re no longer in our role-plays.”

“Aww, and I thought we were both finally partners now? What’s with the foul mood once again?”

“Shut up and drive, I swear,” you huffed.

“Or else?”

“I will actually throw you right into the ocean right now.”

“Feisty. I love it.”

Oh, hell no, you were definitely frustrated, alright.

Just before you could make your following remark, a bullet instantly grazes through the vehicle, causing you both to turn your heads behind to see that you were now being chased by several vehicles, all of whom were part of Mr Stromberg’s bodyguards.

“Guess the infamous man himself isn’t so dull, after all,” Sangyeon commented before speeding up the vehicle. As he was about to reach for his revolver, which was hidden on the side of his seat, you immediately stopped him by grabbing his wrist.

“Don’t bother, just continue driving up ahead. I’ll keep them busy.”

With that, you instantly took out the gun that was hidden inside your purse and reloaded the weapon within seconds before you peered your head out from the windows and began shooting at the bodyguards.

It was fairly easy for you, being KGB’s best sniper, as you were able to hit all of the vital spots of the vehicles, causing each of them to lose control before either crashing right into the slope of the hill or into the ocean. However, it seemed as if the vehicles kept coming, for you were not coming any closer to knocking them out for good.

“It seems like Stromberg has way too many henchmen on patrol,” you commented before resuming your work.

At this point, Sangyeon has already driven you nearly half the distance to the docks, and you were coming far from eliminating all of them. Suddenly, things were about to get from bad to worse when a big truck came crashing into you, trying its best to damage your vehicle in hopes of attempting that the both of you would surrender. That was when the driver peered their head out from the windows and immediately aimed his gun towards you.

Jaws.

Sangyeon clearly saw what had unfolded, and he quickly swerved the vehicle to the left in hopes that the criminal would miss the shot (which he did) before pressing onto the accelerator once more to head as fast as he could to the docks. At the same time, the sound of a helicopter's thrum came flying in, and you both peered your heads up to see that it was the same assistant from before driving it.

“Agent 007 and Major L/N, I would highly advise you to hand over the microfilm and surrender quietly right now,” the assistant announced out loud through the radios before aiming her gun towards you both.

You both were stuck in a tight-knit situation: a car chase from Jaws and his men while Stromberg’s assistant was above the high ground. Now, there was nowhere to hide or run.

Or so you thought.

“Say, Y/N. Can you swim?” Sangyeon asked swiftly.

“W-What? What are you saying-”

Before you could respond, Sangyeon quickly pressed one of the many buttons on his steering wheel, causing his vehicle to launch a missile from the back towards Jaws and his men. The missile instantly hit the cars, and they all blew up within seconds before Sangyeon drove the vehicle straight into the ocean.

Once the vehicle came into contact with water, it seemingly transformed itself into a mini-like submarine, making it easy to navigate and drive through underneath the water.

“Well, it also seems that we should eliminate our unwanted guests, no?” Sangyeon questioned before pressing another button. He launched a missile that shot straight up out from the waters and right towards the helicopter, making it explode almost immediately.

Now that all enemies were gone, Sangyeon rolled his shoulders to relax the tension that he had gotten throughout the car chase before driving smoothly through the waters.

Throughout your time as an agent, you have witnessed and experienced crazy things, but nothing came close to what you had just seen with your very own eyes.

Grabbing onto the handle upon your seat, you turned to Sangyeon and let out a little huff before shaking your head. “You’re insane.”

“I know, sweetheart. That’s why people adore me.”

It has been about an hour since the both of you got back to your accommodations, and you were now just writing in your journal as a time to wind down for a little bit. Both you and Sangyeon had a little chat about the findings he had gotten through the microfilm, and talking to Mr Stromberg himself was that he had a hidden supertanker in the ocean called The Liparus and an underwater base named Atlantis. In order to proceed, both of you needed to wait for your next orders from both generals specifically to arrange a much more suitable transport and disguise to head over to the locations.

So here you were, relaxing with your journal while Sangyeon was busy taking a nice hot bath after all the chase from Stromberg’s henchmen hours ago. When you heard the water supply being turned off, the male stepped out of his bathrobe and took a towel to dry his hair as he approached you.

Once again, your cheek began burning red as you took in the sight before you—his hair dripping wet, his bare face as he just got out of the shower, and the slightly exposed chest from the bathrobe.

It’s illegal to look this good, Lee Sangyeon.

“Like what you see, princess?”

With that, you immediately snapped back into reality, clearly your throat, before ducking your head back to your journal. “In your face, you idiot.”

Just when you thought that returning to your journal would help you escape his torments and flirty comments, you suddenly felt the need to lift your head to see what was happening. You felt that someone had been eyeing you up close for a while now.

Turns out your instinct was true, and you could’ve sworn that you were about to explode anytime now due to the immense heat rising rapidly up to your head as Sangyeon had positioned himself entirely on top of you, both of his legs on either side of yours as he leans his head forward, making you lay back down on the couch.

“W-What on earth do you think you’re doing!” You screamed, covering your face with your journal before the man himself removed it.

“You have been acting strangely since this morning, Y/N. Care to share with me why exactly that is?”

“I-It’s none of your business!”

“Unfortunately, now that we’re no longer strangers but partners, I deserve to know every single detail about what’s going on in that little mind of yours,” he retorted while lifting his fingers to rub your nose, making your stomach feel even worse. “Tell me, princess. Pinky promise that we won’t keep any secrets from each other, no?”

“Jokes on you, we’re spies. We’ll always live a double life. You’ll never get to know about my secrets, ever.”

“Hmm, maybe I can make that happen.”

In the blink of an eye, he immediately leans down to kiss your lips directly, slowly increasing the pressure as he lowers his body to yours. You were too stunned to react and could only open your eyes to see the whole thing unfold before you. Within seconds, he pulled away before rubbing his thumb across his lips, savouring your taste on his.

“Hmm, mango lip balm huh? That’s my favourite kind of flavour,” he smirked.

Goddamn you, Lee Sangyeon.

“I swear you’re so-”

Before you could finish your sentence, a knock was heard from the front door, and Sangyeon immediately got up from you and headed towards the source of the sound. He then unlocked the door to see that a messenger had arrived to pass him a note.

As you squint your eyes to examine the letter from afar, you clearly see the stamp on it, and you know that it is time to cut off all of this nonsense and get back to work as soon as possible.

Sangyeon immediately returns to the living space and opens up to read the letter in his hands. Thanks to Q’s examination, it seemed that The Liparus and Atlantis were keeping something far more threatening, and it was up to you two to head there as quickly as you could before it was too late. The two of you were to board a US submarine that would be passing back to Sardinia early the next morning, with the general already informing the crew abroad about your presence.

“Alright, that seems plausible,” Sangyeon replied before burning the letter into the fireplace (it was what spies usually do after receiving a message about the next mission or crucial evidence anyway).

As you took on the next mission, you stood up before heading back towards your room to pack up for the trip before Sangyeon stopped you in your tracks by posing a question.

“That nightgown sure does look pretty on you.”

You figured you were done trying to escape his comments, so you took a deep breath and tried your best to respond properly. “Yeah, I got it in Austria a few weeks prior. It’s such a beautiful place.”

“Indeed. I miss travelling there; I’ll have to head back there soon.”

“Oh? So you have been to Austria? When was your last trip?” You asked.

“Two weeks ago.”

Just then, that comment suddenly rang a bell in your head. Sangyeon was there two weeks ago, just like you did, but both knew very little about the other. But what if…there was a possibility that he knew about your ex-lover? You were all spies; surely you must’ve known about one another, even in an auditory manner.

Instantly, you marched towards Sangyeon, pulling up a picture of your ex-lover and shovelling it into his face. You desperately wanted to find answers and a conclusion to the case. “Do you recognise this man?”

It took Sangyeon a while to look at him before he stepped away and started pacing around the room. “No, what makes you say that?”

“He was Agent Seryozha, my lover,” you bluntly replied.

After a few moments of what seemed like Sangyeon trying to find the right words to respond to your comment, he placed both hands on his hips and slowly walked towards you.

“Hear this out, Y/N. If you’re out trying to enjoy your little break and someone comes up behind you in an attempt to murder you, you don’t always have the time to remember who the individual may look like. In other words, agents like us must always be prepared to give up our lives in the line of duty. If I knew that, then so did he.”

With one final step in front of you, he stares down at your face before he humbly whispers to you with a “Yes, I did kill him”.

Your facial expression immediately sank and tightened. Both hands balled up into fists, resisting the urge to lose your cool for the millionth time before him. Instead, you calmly tip-toed up to bring his neck down with your hands as you leaned into his ear.

“Well then, thanks for finally putting a closure to this case. So when this mission is finally over, I will kill you with my own bare hands.”

Once you had made your point, you immediately shoved him away and stomped towards your room, slamming the door shut loudly before leaning against it. Taking a deep breath, you just wished this nightmare would end soon.

Just when things finally looked good for us, Sangyeon.

You knew from the back of your mind that kiss meant something, or at least you thought it was. Sure, he was a womaniser, but the Sangyeon you knew wouldn’t go around kissing random women like that. As much as you wanted to ask him about it, you had your ego and pride to keep, not wanting to show that he was winning the little game that he was playing. Hence, you kept your mouth shut and spared little to no glance at the man since the day before, even as you were slowly let down into the submarine sent by both of the generals for you to board to head to Stromberg’s The Liparus to find out what exactly he was hiding truly.

The commander was surprised to see a woman like you on board, but Sangyeon jumped into your defence, and you were immediately let loose, given that they were now aware you were the Major L/N of KGB. After some time of meticulous planning of how everyone would proceed, the alarm started going off immediately, sending everyone on the submarine into a frenzy.

It wasn’t long before you and Sangyeon realised that the tanker had captured the submarine, the vehicle slowly rising from the waters to the docks. Immediately, Sangyeon nudged your shoulders and quietly said that the missing submarines had been found, each hanging up on both sides of the docks.

Now, you have plenty of evidence that Stromberg was the man behind the disappearance of the submarines and the illegal distribution of microfilms.

But the question of why Stromberg did it still remains a mystery.

Why?

“All crew members of the USS Wayne, surrender yourselves immediately with your hands behind your back right this second,” one of the commanders announced out loud from the speakers.

This was when you knew it was time to put your feelings aside and that working with Sangyeon for now was best. You both needed to devise a plan to release the two submarines and save the crew simultaneously. Time was ticking as you were now being escorted out of the submarine to the docks, but Sangyeon managed to take off his cap and place it right on your head, pushing it down to ensure it was intact.

“Stay close to me; I’ll keep you safe from Stromberg’s men.”

You didn’t give him a proper response but managed to walk right in front of him as you exited the submarine, lining up with the crew as Stromberg’s men carefully examined every single one of you. They pulled out batons and immediately started landing a few blows directly onto the crew members as if to torture and humiliate them.

Your blood was boiling, and you couldn’t wait to take these men down with your bare hands. You have done it countless times, taking out an entire army alone; it was easy for you. However, Sangyeon notices that you are about to jump right onto the men and perform a takedown; he snakes his hand to intertwine with yours from behind, putting a slight pressure to tell you this wouldn’t be a good idea for now.

The only thing was: were you going to take up his advice?

As one of the men stood before you, he looked suspiciously at you, examining you from top to bottom before commenting on your body: “You look far too slim and weak to be in the navy, youngster.” Just then, he took his baton to lift your cap, causing all of your long, brown, wavy hair to fall straight down to your shoulders, and his eyes widened upon the sight.

Within seconds, you quickly landed a strong punch into his abdomen before running to do the same to the other men, instantly knocking them out cold. All of the other henchmen on duty on higher grounds quickly started aiming their snipers towards you, shooting recklessly in hopes of one of the bullets hitting you eventually. Little did they know that you are the best sniper in KGB, so obviously, reading and sensing where the bullets were coming from was a breeze in the park.

When you have taken down all of the men at the docks, a shadowy figure emerges upon you, yanking both your arms behind your back, leaving you no room for escape. Suddenly, you felt that familiar breath hit the back of your neck, and you slowly turned behind to look at the familiar figure.

“Jaws.”

“My my! What a sight that was!” Another shadow emerges on the top of the deck, accompanied by a hand-clapping sound that the individual was producing. It was the infamous man himself. “I’ve always wanted to see the infamous Major L/N in action with my own eyes.”

This can’t be good.

“Now, it’s very brave of a woman like you to board my tanker, but I think you’ll be far more useful if you quietly come with me. I could definitely use some help in my office.” He steps in front of you and takes a strand of your hair before he starts twirling it around his finger. As much as you want to retaliate and land a blow into his face to break his jaw, you are stuck and unable to move even in the slightest.

Jaws indeed was an exceptional human being.

“Hate to be the party pooper, but I’m sure I could be of better use to you than she will be, Mr Stromberg,” Sangyeon cuts in as he slowly makes his way towards you both, aiming his revolver right at the mastermind himself.

Mentally, you were sending him death stares, thinking that he was out of his mind to aim his gun at Stromberg when dozens of snipers were already aiming right at him from above. Instead of putting up another joke to ease the situation (which he usually did to tease you), he glared right into your eyes, signalling a code only high-ranking agents like you could understand from the get-go.

Don’t miss my signal, and do it right away.

With a gulp, you carefully examined his body movements and speech, studying his demeanour to explore the opening that would let you know that you could finally retaliate and defeat the criminals themselves.

“Ah, Mr Bond. Your disguise as Dr. Lee the other day certainly did not go unnoticed. I assure you that my men are far more ready to deal with whatever tricks you are about to pull,” Stromberg responded confidently.

“Now, that makes me so happy to hear you have been expecting my arrival. But I must first and foremost deeply apologise, for I probably would not be meeting your expectations.”

That sent a confused look in Stromberg’s eyes, and it was then Sangyeon pointed his gun up and fired a shot, causing the entire electricity to go off in the tanker, making all of the henchmen panic and lose their cool.

Now that it was dark, you had a bigger advantage of taking down the criminals, starting with Jaws. You lifted your legs to land a solid kick up on his thighs, causing him to yelp in pain as he released you from his grip. You quickly climbed up to Jaws and gave him a headlock, knocking him out temporarily so that you had time to deal with the other henchmen for now.

Before you could even make your way up, you noticed Sangyeon’s absence and began hearing multiple men grunting on the upper docks. This gave you more than enough hints that your partner was up there dealing with the mess.

Instead, you decided to follow and hunt down Stromberg, following his faint shadows as he disappeared into the bottom deck. Many obstacles were in the way, such as laser fields and sleeping gas. Still, thanks to your flexibility and agility, you avoided each one, narrowing the distance between you and the mastermind.

Eventually, you reached the control room, where the man stood before the panel, his hands inches away from pushing down on a huge red button.

Aiming the gun right at him, you weren’t going to waste any more time and let him run loose again, and you were finally going to get him to spill all of the motives and deeds he had done up till this point.

“You want to know why I stole the two submarines in the first place, sweetheart? I am going to use the missiles in both submarines to destroy Moscow and New York City and create a whole new underwater world where people could reside.”

“You’re just going to trigger a global nuclear war.”

“And what about it? As long as I have the Atlantis, it’ll all be possible!” He screamed, inches away from pushing the button down any second now. “So say your last prayers to these beloved cities, and join us to start a new civilisation underwater!”

No, you don’t.

Without a thought to spare, you instantly aimed and pulled the trigger at his wrist, the bullet penetrating right through the skin and causing him to pull back as he yelped in pain. You weren’t going to let him live just like that, and you were more than ready to throw the man right into the cold, rising ocean water that was now slowly filling up the tanker.

Right when you were just about to do the deed, someone grabbed your wrist and held you back. It was Sangyeon. “Women like you shouldn’t get your hands dirty; let me do the honours.” With one swift push, he was immediately thrown into the waters, trying to survive the best that he could until the water completely engulfed him.

Sangyeon then turned his head back and walked straight to the panel, typing in a few things that you could barely make out yourself. This made you squint your eyes and try your best to read his fingers on the letters he was typing.

“Don’t do that; it doesn’t look pretty on your face.”

“Mind your own business; what exactly are you doing now?”

“Honey, I’m trying my best to contact the respective submarines to pull back and not fire the missiles, but it turns out that it’s not really plausible since the missiles are already loaded and ready to go.”

“So, what do you plan to do now?”

“Well, there’s only one option left. And that is to make both submarines destroy one another.”

Destroy one another? You have got to be joking. Your mission was to find out the locations of both missing submarines to ensure your respective agencies were safe and sound. So why destroy them now?

“Because that’s the only way to prevent a war from happening, sweetheart. It’s now or never,” Sangyeon made his point loud and clear, and he would not take no as an option. Reluctantly, you finally accepted his decision and gave him a nod, allowing him to proceed with what he was doing.

That was until Jaws interrupted you both once again, this time holding a broken piece of cement from the flood on the upper floors. He quickly aimed and hit you with it, but you dodged it swiftly. It seemed like he wouldn’t go down without a fight, and you certainly couldn’t let him distract Sangyeon while he was trying his best to send coordinates to both submarine commanders.

Then, you noticed an opening where a wired fence had broken apart, leaving a hole that someone could easily fall into if they weren’t careful. Then you decided to take the chance, moving slowly towards that spot while still dodging Jaws’ attacks.

Slowly but surely, you finally began to see an opening, and you immediately moved out of the way, causing Jaws to run right towards the edge of the opening. He started to lose his balance before finally falling straight into Stromberg’s shark tank, which he kept handy while running his illegal business.

After ensuring that Jaws was busy with the shark in the tank, you quickly ran back to Sangyeon, who was now staring intently at the screen with his arms crossed. With that, you clearly got the message that he had successfully sent the respective coordinates and was now waiting for both submarines to launch the missile against one another instead.

“How much longer?” You asked the male.

“Hmm, I’d say in T minus…10 seconds.”

“W-What? 10 seconds? Then-”

“Yes, sweetheart. It’s time to get the hell out of here.”

Immediately, Sangyeon quickly grabbed your wrist and pulled you away. He returned to the docks and found the nearest exit before jumping straight into the escape pod. Sangyeon wasted no time navigating and getting the thing to work as you both quickly got the hell out of the tanker that was about to sink.

Apparently, he could also free the other crew members beforehand while you were busy chasing down Stromberg and had them returned to their submarine. With his signal, the commander on board was to shoot down both The Liparus and Atlantis. In order to do that, both of you needed to get far away enough to make it happen.

After navigating through the open waters for about ten minutes, Sangyeon sent the commander a set of coordinates via the mini-control panel on the side of the escape pod. Two missiles were then launched immediately, shooting down both Stromberg’s hideouts.

It all happened so quickly. Now that both submarines were destroyed, and so was Stromberg’s valued tanker and hideout, the mission was finally accomplished.

Or was it?

Instantly, you pulled out a revolver from your holster and pushed it right towards Sangyeon’s skull. You have always kept true to your promise, after all.

“What is this all about, princess?”

“Like I’ve said before. Once the mission is over, and so will we, I will kill you for what you have done to my past lover.”

Sangyeon immediately shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “Sweetheart, you clearly said that it was your past lover. Would killing me do any good or bring him back to life?”

You hated how much his words stung your heart. You were too blinded by rage and revenge to determine right and wrong. Since the beginning, Sangyeon has always been there and kept you safe while completing the mission. Sure, he was a womaniser and could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but he always kept his word, no matter what he did.

If it wasn’t for him, you weren’t sure you could complete this whole mission alone. Yet, you couldn’t bring it out from your mouth to actually acknowledge his presence in your life and how he was somehow able to give you a sense of comfort throughout the past couple of weeks as you mourned over the death of your ex-partner.

Your grip on the revolver loosened, and Sangyeon made a move to grab hold of your wrist and slowly pull it down. It was evident by now that your tears began flowing again, and he reached out to brush them off with his thumbs before lifting your chin with his fingers to make you look straight into his eyes.

“You have done so well, Major Y/N. I couldn’t be more proud of you as a partner.”

“P-Partner?” You sniffled.

Instantly, his eyes brightened, and he leaned in close to you. “Unless you would like to proceed further than that?”

Not wanting to lose the fight, you placed both hands behind his neck, pulling him in closer to you so that both lips were now inches apart. “Don’t be stupid.”

You had no idea what made you return the favour this time when you have been actively rejecting his comfort and touch for so long. Perhaps it was because you have finally decided to accept reality and move on with life; you didn’t even know much about yourself. But you needed one thing so badly: to feel his lips on yours again.

You couldn’t enjoy it much during your first time with him (well, it was his fault for teasing you and thinking that it would be a good idea somehow to manipulate your thoughts and emotions in a bathrobe). Still, he also wore a cologne that smelled way too good for him, one that would lure you in if you weren’t careful enough.

His lips, god. Never in a million years would his nasty mouth actually hold such plump and flavourful lips, and he definitely knew his way around kissing a woman. He knew the right pace, movement and pressure to please someone, and he was also wearing a mango-flavoured lip balm, very similar to the one you would often wear yourself.

When you both finally broke apart for some air, Sangyeon gave you a grin, and you returned the favour with a slap on his shoulders, knowing that he was going to say something about you.

“So you finally admitted your feelings for me, princess? It took you long enough to do so,” he teased.

You knew all along that your feelings for Sangyeon weren’t normal. It definitely did seem like Sangyeon was an escape for you to get over your ex, but eventually, it blossomed into something more, and you fell for his charms. At this point, you knew there was no longer a way to hide your feelings, and it was time to face reality the way it is.

“You could’ve just told me you wanted me this badly, Y/N,” he continued.

“I’m still going to kill you someday, Sangyeon. Don’t get all cocky,” you deadpanned.

However, the male wasn’t affected in the slightest, and he leans back down to reconnect your lips with his once more.

“Tempting, and I’ll very much look forward to the day when it happens.”

the 007 files masterlist

masterlist

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