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#the boyz x reader
412foryou · 3 days
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The last one.
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“bless your heart, make you part of my life forever. and always.”
₊˚ pairing– sunwoo x gn!reader
₊˚ genre– hurt/comfort, fluff, friends to lovers.
₊˚ overview– sunwoo comforts you after an unpleasant event. you go for a drive in his car, in the sunset. a confession at the beach. kissing.
₊˚ word count– 3k
₊˚ warnings– depictions of feelings of anxiety/social anxiety and loneliness; self-conscious, depressive thoughts.
₊˚ notes– I'm finally giving this a try! I'm super excited to write on here!! the beautiful pictures sunwoo posted on ig made me think of the idea for this fic. I got inspired to write it while I was feeling really down myself, and even though it's pretty specific, I felt like I could share it here, in hopes that this might comfort anyone else who needs it. it took me a week to finish this, but I enjoyed every moment of it. note that this is my first fic in a while, so please be kind. I'd love to hear what you think about it!! and btw! stuff in italics is for the reader's thoughts.
like & reblog if you enjoy please <3
♪₊˚ song— tejano blue by cigarettes after s*x.
it's so loud.
you can hear the noisy chatter of the people in your group, bantering and laughing out loud.
what are they laughing so much about? are they laughing about.. about me?
you sink in your seat, hands in pockets, body slumping even more than before, aiming to merge with the chair. your eyebrows set low, unknowingly glaring at the group.
"hey, you okay?" one of them calls out, making you perk up, but you know it isn't a genuine question, so you lower your eyes, nodding briefly.
a scoff. "it's no use talking to them, they're not gonna answer you." another voice retorts, clearly tipsy. you try to pay it no mind.
it was fine before, they didn't care much. why now?
but before you can come up with an answer to your own question, your thoughts are interrupted with laughter, even louder this time.
they're laughing at me.
the discomfort that gradually began setting in since you first stepped into the building, was about to overflow. so you go to stand up and leave, while your mind imagines the remarks they could be throwing at you.
"leaving already? so boring."
"they're so weird"
"wow, that's one scary kid."
"not worth our time."
"yeah, you better leave."
real or not, it didn't make much of a difference for you. you still cared, it still bothered you, no matter how miserable that might sound. the non-spoken words sharp and piercing, biting at your skin. you brushed both of your arms up and down roughly to rid your mind of the thoughts.
it burns.
so much for trying to socialize.
you awkwardly squeeze through people crowded in groups outside, keeping your eyes on the ground, paying no mind to where you're headed.
you just need to get away from there, as far as possible, and quickly. you don't even check your surroundings, as your legs seem to be taking charge right now, shaking but not able to stop moving ahead.
I'm so embarrassing. I'm just so...
you're continuously reminded of what happened at the bar, the image seemingly stuck in your brain. the mocking laughter replaying over and over, taunting you, leaving no choice but to think about it.
why can't I just do it the way they can, what is wrong with me?
they all seem to like it.
why doesn't it come naturally to me too?
why do I have to force myself?
you walk with your head down, trying to hold in your tears. you knew this wouldn't end well, you didn't expect anything from it, and yet,
I'm pathetic. I'm disgusting. and I'm miserable.
I knew this wasn't a good idea, why did I even..
they all probably hate me now. the way I am.
I feel so sorry for myself-
there's a halt in you thoughts, as in your steps. you notice you've bumped shoulders with someone.
wait- what am I doing, where am I?
you frantically take a look around, only to find yourself in an unfamiliar place, yet again, the anxiety sets in. you have no way of telling where you are.
the sun will set soon, too. shit-
you walk around in hopes to find a way to get back to your place, maybe think of something. but, you remember-
sunwoo has my location! yes. he'll help.
you mentally thank yourself for thinking of that, taking your phone out to text your friend.
"changed my mind, come get me."
the reply is almost instantaneous, as it always is whenever it's sunwoo you're texting.
"be there in 10. stay where you are."
a sigh of relief escapes through your lips, your shoulders feeling lighter, knowing you'll be on your way soon. but you still need to-
I have to go back to that place.
reluctantly making your way back to the bar, you linger nearby, just so sunwoo can find you, but not close enough to be spotted by anyone else. pulling your hood up, you put your hands in your pockets, shifting back and forth, unable to stay still.
it's fine. it's alright now. it's over. he'll be here soon. I'm okay..
letting a big puff of air out, you try to steady your stance, your breath shaky. you lean your elbows on the railing in front of some shop, as the light from inside gives you shelter from the darkness of the street.
I wish I didn't have to be like this.
you tuck your head into your arms.
this always happens, I don't know why I thought this time would be different.
I should've never come.
I'm shameful.
I'm ashamed!
regardless of your efforts to hold back, you still feel a single stubborn tear touch your skin, staining your sleeves. a sniffle. you can't be crying like this outside,
but I've already embarrassed myself anyway.
another involuntary sniffle, and a tear on the other side of your face. it's gotten colder. a warm hand on your shoulder.
frightened, your head springs up, your eyes frantically searching for the person the hand belongs to. your body slackens in his grip. thank god. the hand on your shoulder moves to stroke your back.
"I'm here." a gentle smile.
you feel the tear streaks drying on the sides of your face in the light breeze as you look back at sunwoo. you're so drained that you feel as though you've lost the ability to form words, so you can only hope your eyes are able to relay your thoughts to him.
I'm exhausted.
sunwoo's gaze shifts between your eyes trying to gauge anything that hints at your mood. his other hand comes up to wipe your cheekbone. and it stays there, holding the side of your face.
a quiet gasp. "you're freezing! I should've been quicker. I'm sorry." he retracts his hand on your cheek. the one still on your back guides you in a certain direction, your body completely relaxed and yielding in his hold. you're safe now, sunwoo knows what to do. you know to trust him.
before you know it you feel warm again. even though the roof of sunwoo's cabriolet is folded, even though it's even colder now, even though the breeze blows rougher. the warmth seems to be spreading from within, a feeling, your heartbeat slow and steady. sunwoo buckles your seatbelt for you and closes the door.
don't go.
he rounds the vehicle to get in his seat on the other side. you knew he wouldn't leave, but
still..
"I'll pull the roof back up in a minute." he has taken off his jacket and it's now spread over your lap. "I didn't know it'd get this cold, should've thought to fix it before coming to get you." he halts his movements when he feels your hand on his arm.
I want to feel the breeze.
"you want me to leave it?" a mild nod from you, eyes downturned. he gazes back at you, eyebrows furrowed. "okay... but put the jacket on properly, the breeze is strong."
when you don't make a move to comply as he instructed, he leans over and carefully adjusts the jacket so that it covers more of you, giving you a sliver of a smile.
soon enough the blow of the wind picks up as sunwoo starts driving. you lean your head back, resting it on the headrest. the bitter gusts of wind crash into your face, turning it red, keeping you awake. you can feel the frigid air burning your skin, soothing your body. your eyelids drop to focus on the feeling as you take in a deep breath.
that feels nice.
I can breathe again.
you open your eyes and look out the window. the city lights are harsh and bright, dazzling you, making you squint, your view of them softening.
"are you cold?" asks sunwoo in a low voice. yes. but it feels good. slowly tilting your head, you face him, beyond him a glimpse of the beach.
your gaze fixes on sunwoo, eyes listless. only now taking notice of his appearance. laid back in the seat, his arm rests on the door, the other one gripping the wheel. arms bare, your eyes linger. soon enough they shift to look at his dark hair flying around with the wind. thick eyebrows set firm in concentration. eyes half lidded, but alert. you can still see the restlessness in them. he keeps stealing sideway glances at you, eager to grasp your thoughts. you pay it no mind, because..
he's so beautiful.
and most of all, his skin is glowing golden even in the dark, now illuminated scarlet as you stop at a red light. he turns his head toward you "hmm?"
ah,
you forgot he'd asked a question. that snaps you out of your dazed state effectively. blinking rapidly to rid your eyes of the haze.
shit, I got distracted.
clearing your throat, your voice raspy, "sorry. no, I'm not cold." you fidget with the sleeves of your hoodie. you hear him sigh softly. he's facing ahead again, the light green. "you.. okay?" you can hear the concern in his voice and your heart swells.
"yeah, I'm good." averting your eyes from his face, feeling sheepish.
your response doesn't seem to ease his worry, "you can talk to me, you know I don't mind. I'll listen." his words so gentle, you barely hear them.
he's so kind to me.
your eyes shift to your lap. sunwoo's jacket has slid down, and you can see your fingers picking at the skin on your hands.
why... does he treat me like this?
when other people seem to have given up on me completely?
he's too kind.
"I..." you try to form an intelligible sentence. an exhale- "I'm alright. I'm just fine.. if you're with me." you try not to look over at him. "everything sort of.. feels okay when you're here." you breathe deep, in and out. voice trembling. "I just want you to know that.. I'm thankful- for everything you do for me. even though, I don't get why you do this... I know I can be... difficult. to understand, and to talk to most of the time. I guess I'm grateful that you try. and that you've kept me with you despite.. that, I don't give anything in return. and I'm sorry." you trail off, tears welling in your eyes. "anyway, just thank you." you finish with a sniffle.
sunwoo is quiet. you're too afraid to meet eyes with him, so you keep your head down.
why isn't he saying anything?
did I make him uncomfortable?
you wipe your nose with a sleeve. another awkward sniff.
should've just stayed quiet. it wasn't even that serious..
I'm sorry for being like this.
however, before your mind can make your grey thoughts into a whirlpool and suck you in, you see colors seep into the darkness. you look up in surprise and find the source. the now setting sun seems to be casting the purple-pink light on the waves just before you.
"it has never once felt like that to me." you turn your head, the beams reaching his face too, making you stare. he's looking ahead.
"our.. friendship. I have never thought of it as a chore, a challenge- maybe. because we're so different from each other, there's a lot to consider. but.." he shakes his head, lowering it, "oh my god- I always thought of this-" he gestures between the two of you. "as something precious, something I needed to protect. if anything, it felt like it was you keeping me close." he brings his head back up but still doesn't glance your way.
...what?
eyebrows furrowed in deep confusion you question, "you.. but, why? there's nothing I have to offer, I mean.." he brings his head back up, concern evident in the way he looks at you. you avoid his eyes, bashful. "you're.. you're so ordinary. you know.. you can befriend anyone, do anything you want.. you're likable, and I don't know.. I'm- I'm just me. and I can barely take being alive, at least..." you sigh shakily, it's so hard to talk about this. "but that was before, now I don't think it's all that bad. and it's all because you came into my life." you didn't even notice you'd started to cry, until you felt sunwoo's thumb on your face, wiping the tears away. you let him, eyes glazed over.
he makes this even more difficult than it already is.
he retracts his hand. you shift your eyes once more. "you know, whenever I think of myself, I'm always out of place. nothing comes naturally to me, like it does with others, and it- it's so frustrating... it's lonely. and it makes me hate myself. but.. weirdly enough, all it took for me to feel at least a little bit normal, was one person who understood me. who listened to me. you're my link to the rest of the world, the only thing that keeps my feet on the ground. I- I really don't know where I would be right now, if you weren't by my side." you feel more silent tears escape.
my whole existence is disgraceful.
but I don't regret this, he has to know how much he means to me.
"I know it's selfish as well, that I wish for you to stay here forever. but.. truly, you're the sole good thing in my life." you've never felt so exposed and vulnerable before, putting your heart on display, right in front of sunwoo.
"it isn't, selfish- I mean." he catches you off guard, so you turn to look. you notice colors dimming on his face, the sunset imminent. he's got a warm expression on his face, one full of tenderness. "well if it is, then I must be selfish too. because I can never imagine my life without you in it either." he leans over, resting his elbow on the armrest in-between your seats. "it honestly breaks my heart that you think that way about yourself, I wish I could take those feelings away from you.." he reaches over with his other hand and takes your hood off. "I don't know how much I'll be able to help, but I can promise that I'll always try to. I'll be here, whenever you need me." his gaze shifts to the top of your head briefly, patting your hair into place. "and I need you with me, just as much. so, don't ever think like that, okay?"
you should've known better than to doubt sunwoo's feelings. he's the one that gets you, even if no words are exchanged. of course, he'd understand. he always has. but.. it's hard to focus on that, when he's just
he's so close.
your heartbeat picks up, alerting you of the proximity between your faces. you can feel the heat of sunwoo's breath on your ice cold face, as you try to keep your own even. try to keep your mind clear, aware.
oh god...
he eyes your lips for a moment, and you can hear it in his slightly quickened breaths-
he feels it too.
your eyes lock, and you feel like you're going insane. with the way he's looking at you, gaze filled with longing. with the way his hand's still resting in your hair. with the way your heart just can't seem to calm. with the way your faces have frozen into place, neither moving an inch to break the distance. it all makes you want to..
I desperately want to kiss him.
"I want to kiss you." you're not even sure who asked the question, because it was whispered, and because you're too tired to make sense of anything. "...can I?" oh, it was him, after all. his voice so soft, but breathy- rushed with desire.
please.
instead of answering, you pull him in by the back of his head, rushing to connect your lips. your eagerness visible in the intensity of the kiss. this stuns sunwoo for a brief second, but he meets your lips and steadies the kiss, slowing you down.
..finally.
he holds you by the jaw. your lips moving in sync, almost naturally. you pull at his hair. you can feel him smiling into the kiss.
he's driving me crazy.
the kiss can't last forever, you have to pull away to take a breath. you can feel the dissatisfaction in the way sunwoo whines lowly. it pleases you, to know he yearns for you the same way you do, for him.
I can't believe we just kissed.
your faces remain close still, seemingly unable to pull apart, now that you've connected. the sound of your heavy breaths and the waves crashing, the only thing to be heard. you wait for each other to regain oxygen back in your lungs. sunwoo's cheeks are flushed cherry, but you're sure yours are worse.
I can't believe I just kissed sunwoo.
he holds your cheek in his palm now, thumb stroking the blush on it, gaze filled with adoration.
is this really happening?
sunwoo's half lidded eyes are relentless in raking over your face, noticing every detail, staring. but it isn't uncomfortable, you don't feel self-conscious. you feel seen.
"you're beautiful." he confesses with care.
he likes me.
he finds me beautiful.
his bold words don't make you question their genuineness. you feel confident in the way you look from his point of view, you know you're beautiful, because he sees it.
tightening your grip on his hair, pulling a strand, you look at his swollen mouth "you have no idea, how long I've waited for this." he ducks his head, smiling shyly. ...he's so.. cute.
bringing both of your hands together, you cup his flushed face.
pretty.
you take a moment to study him. he lets you. after a few moments of silence, he whispers "me too. I've longed for you.. without even realizing." he's a bit hesitant in his words, avoiding your gaze. you didn't know shy sunwoo would come as a punch to your heart, making your affection for him grow.
so adorable.
smiling softly, you lean in to taste his lips once more. this time you make sure to go slow and sunwoo melts into the kiss. he moves his lips according to your pace, kissing you back tenderly. you feel content in his presence, his lips touching yours, comfortable and familiar.
I feel so... warm.
you gently lift your lips from his, but stay near, foreheads joined together. you can feel the breeze biting. your mind screams at you, begging, to connect your mouth back with his again. sunwoo's low breaths grazing your lips not helping the case.
I miss his touch.
the side of his mouth upturned, as if reading your mind, sunwoo briefly brushes your lips with his plump ones.
I need more.
but brief isn't enough. you yearn for him, his touch in the way that wouldn't be sated with a momentary peck. a noise of frustration leaves your lips, and he catches on, finding your impatience cute.
a chuckle. his lips back on yours.
perfect.
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sohnric · 4 months
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plot twist – k. sunwoo
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pairing: kim sunwoo x gn! reader
genre: coworkers au, enemies to lovers au. fluff, a poor attempt at comedy. movie theatre! worker sunwoo and reader. bitch boy sunwoo. the reader has anger issues. owner's son! sunwoo being annoying about everything. winter themes, sunwoo is a little kid about stuff but mostly the snow.
wc: 21k
warnings: swearing, a heated make out session. y/n's inner monologue is just my own feelings about this man im sorry. i watched too much of the office when writing this can you tell. also i made sunwoo's sister underage for plot reasons deal with it.
working with kim sunwoo has so far been the worst experience of your whole entire life. just his existence alone is enough to make your day completely miserable– though, one would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you for the biggest plot twist of your life.
a/n: this took me SO LONG to write woah. i have a humble playlist for this fic if any of yall wanna listen to it while you read <3 a huge thank you goes to my best friend @csenke for being my biggest motivator and hype man when it came to this fic. thank u for being my first ever beta reader hihi i couldn't have done this without you i am forever grateful ily. also im tagging @heemingyu because whe told me to
ho ho ho! this fic is a part of the secret santa event by @deoboyznet ! @kimsohn maya, i was your secret santa this year, i hope you enjoy the fic i prepared for you
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TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – UGLY TRUTH (2009)
If anyone ever asked you about your job in the movie theater, you wouldn’t really know what to say. 
You see, what may had seemed like your dream job when you were little, acquiring the fairytale vision after going to the cinema for the first time to see the Horton movie when you were just 7, quickly turned into reality one ordinary day during your junior year of university. And it wasn’t even that hard; you just dropped off your CV at the movie theater on the corner of the town's square when you saw the sign that said ‘looking for part-timers’ in a messy, giant handwriting on the glass door– and soon enough, you found yourself in the depths of the vintage-looking cinema, wearing the red uniform the owner gave you, selling movie tickets to teenagers and taking out the trash. It’s hard to enjoy the job when you’re on bathroom cleaning duty, though, and the fact that this is what you once imagined to be the most exciting job in the whole entire world turns twice as boring when you realize just how mundane it really is. 
Still, you can’t bring yourself to quit, well, because you need the money.
Do you hate working in the cinema? No. Not really. Sure, it’s kind of boring– especially on the nights when you’re selling tickets at the front and nobody comes in for hours– but it’s not that difficult. It’s not physically or mentally demanding, so you’d say that you’re still on the better end when it comes to work environment. Your boss isn’t a dick and you get paid on time– so really, if anyone asked you if you hated it, your answer would be no. 
Until one fateful day, of course. 
You’re met with a person that’s going to efficiently change this opinion around in one swift bat of their eyelashes and a drag of their hand through their messy hair.
“So… you’re the new part-timer?” a tall boy asks you one day when you arrive at work. You’re already wearing your uniform when you come through the front door– since you don’t really feel like changing in the toilets that are not staff-exclusive here– and frankly, his voice startles you on your way in.
“Yeah,” you nod, furrowing your brows at the stranger. “And you are…?”
“Sunwoo,” the boy says, matter-of-factly, as if you’re supposed to know who exactly he is now that he’s introduced himself to you. The look on your face may show that you’re still clueless, and see, that’s something that must have played with the boy’s ego. “Kim Sunwoo,” he snickers, “the owner’s son..?”
Blinking a few times, trying to remember if Mr Kim’s ever told you about having a son– he hasn’t– you gasp like a fish on the dry, nodding. “Oh… Hello..?” you mumble, not really knowing what to do with the information.
“Hi,” he says, face stone cold and motionless. Something’s wrong, but you can’t quite put your finger on it…. 
Well, you’ll have to deal with that later. “My shift starts in 5 minutes, so I gotta find Mr- your dad, and ask him what’s on my to-do list today, but it was nice meeting you,” you try to force out a polite (maybe even warm) smile before you turn on your heel and march towards the staff room, where Mr Kim usually resigns unless he is helping you out with something at the front. See, on not busy days, working at the cinema requires only one person. On Fridays, though, it can get tough. That’s when the owner makes the popcorn while you both sell and scan the tickets at the same time– sometimes you wonder why he doesn’t hire another person to help out with the job.
“Wait– newbie–”
The nickname startles you, again, as you turn around and squint at him. You have a name– and although he has no way of knowing it (other than his father telling him, but seeming that you didn’t even know about his son, Mr Kim isn’t big on sharing information)– but still, you’d love to be called by it. “It’s Y/N, actually.”
“Oh, right…” he hums, “well, Y/N, dad’s not here tonight, so… I’m… kind of in charge,” he says, nodding as he gets the words out, trying to prove his point, “he had other things to take care of, so he sent me down instead,” he explains, watching as your face morphs into one of quick understatement.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he nods, sucking on his teeth.
Thick silence overtakes the atmosphere. You feel awkward and out of place.
“So…?” you hum, waiting for him to tell you what to do. 
Because a guy your age ordering you around at work is already embarrassing enough for a university student just trying to pay for their groceries. You’re not gonna ask for the orders yourself. You still have some dignity.
“So… I could take the ticket booth and you can clean the screening room, since there are no movies on tonight?” he suggests, rocking on his heels. The boy seems a bit shaken with the new sense of responsibility, but you figure that even his undoubtful awkwardness still doesn't put you above his position.
You mentally sigh. Cleaning is your least favorite part of the job. 
Still, you’re not gonna talk back to your boss’ son. You’d like to keep your job for a while longer. At least until you find something better.
“Alright,” you nod, turning on your heels once more and preparing to disappear into the depths of the cinema.
His voice stops you again, though, frustration flowing through your veins. “Don’t forget to mop the floors! Oh, and the bathroom could use a clean as well.”
“Alright,” you nod again, your back facing him.
“Also, you need to get the gum off the chairs, I know it’s kind of disgusting, but there’s a-”
“I know how to do my job, thank you,” you turn, smiling ironically over your shoulder.
You don’t know what it is about the man that makes you so, so incredibly irritated. Maybe it’s the fact that every bit of information coming out of his mouth sounds like he’s mansplaining everything to you. Maybe it’s the fact that you feel humiliated to be told what to do by a man that’s your age. Or maybe, it’s just the sheer fact that you hate cleaning– the one thing he just told you to do.
Still, you go and get the vacuum. You go and mop the floors, you go and take the gum off the chairs and scrape it into a bucket you keep in the pantry in the back. You go and clean the bathroom, even though it’s 10 minutes until the end of your shift (you only work 4 hours on Wednesdays) and you spent almost your whole day cleaning the whole screening room by yourself (the screening room that’s giant and Mr Kim helps you with on most days). You go and wipe the mirror in the bathroom, as well as the windows in the hall. 
You say that your work in the cinema is not physically demanding, but by the time you’re out, your back hurts and your knees are all bruised up from getting on the ground so often.
What really sets you off, though, is the sight of the owner’s son sitting in the booth, both legs up on the table and chewing on something, his phone in his hands as he watches, what you presume from the language resonating from the speaker, a silly anime. At least someone had fun during their shift, you think as you leave without saying goodbye to him, slamming the door behind you with a loud bang on your way out.
Quite frankly, you didn’t know what set you off so bad this time. Maybe you just had a bad day. Maybe it could've been fixed with your next shared shift with the guy– you never know.
Little did you know that it was only going to get worse from now on, though.
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TONIGHT'S PREMIERE – PALM SPRINGS (2020)
If you knew your boss’s son would play the role of your supervisor from time to time, you probably wouldn't have taken the job when it was offered to you. 
Why?
The reason is quite simple– while you go to work to make money, Kim Sunwoo goes to work to make your whole life a living hell. Ranging from always giving you the more difficult task of the day to making unfunny jokes about your performance (he once asked if you ran a marathon after you mopped the whole hall, his grinning figure staring at you from inside of the ticket booth), you’re starting to think that Kim Sunwoo is mentally stuck with the brain of an 11-year old boy. 
More so with his recent endeavors. You don’t really know what he’s trying to achieve with all of this, but you’re starting to despise going to work even when you know he’s not on the schedule– somehow, you’re afraid his silly pranks and jokes will follow you and surprise you even when he’s not present. Is this his way of asserting dominance? You really don’t know.
It all starts one day before a movie premiere when Sunwoo walks up to you and introduces you to a new concession item to sell in the snack booth. While you don’t really know why one would even think of new combinations to sell at a cinema, since everyone’s just gonna get popcorn or nachos, you don’t really question the idea much further– Sunwoo’s father owns this place, so he must know the best marketing strategies for his business. The reality only downs on you when you’re forced to promote the “Ultimate movie mix” to every customer– which wouldn’t even be that strange, if the mix didn’t include the weird combination of pickles and candy. 
Running on two all nighters and half an energy drink, you didn’t realize the snack stand doesn’t even hold pickles. You were notified the day after by your boss, though, and that wasn’t your best experience.
The terror follows when Sunwoo’s father decides to run a Star Wars marathon one weekend. The flood of customers wouldn’t be as hard to manage when you run the snack stand, but it does get more difficult when your coworker running around with a lightsaber knocks over all the buckets of freshly-made popcorn you just put on the counter for the customers to take. 
He doesn’t even say sorry. Or help clean the spilled popcorn up from the floor. Or help you make a new batch. 
He just laughs.
Sunwoo just loves to laugh at you. Like that one time he made you wear a giant popcorn costume and stand in front of the cinema for the entirety of your 4 hour shift on Wednesday to promote the new movie airing on Friday. Hardly anyone took the fliers you were desperately trying to force into their hands and when you came back, you saw Sunwoo pointing his camera at you from the big glass window. 
The next shift, his dad asked you how Sunwoo did when promoting the movie. You didn’t have the heart to tell him he forced you to do the dirty business instead.
Another time, Sunwoo informs you via text in the middle of your shift that you should clean the bathrooms. The fact itself already makes you furious, but you follow the order nonetheless– because, well, what else can you do? You’re used to cleaning the toilets, since it’s a part of your job. It’s just the fact that a guy your age told you to that’s making you rethink all your career decisions.
The trip to the bathrooms quickly turns traumatizing when you step inside of the tiled room and have the door behind you close with a loud bang, followed by the light switching off. Screeching, you jump and try to escape the room with fear making your heart run faster than Usain Bolt, however, you find the door seemingly locked– the sound of Sunwoo’s snarky laugh coming from the other side making you recognise what just happened and how he’s pulling another one of his childish pranks on you again.
When the door finally opens, you throw the toilet brush into his chest and scream out a “I’m going to fucking quit if I see your face one more time!”. You’re over all formalities.
That doesn’t mean you’re not scared every time you enter a room in the cinema when you work with Sunwoo, though. Your reaction was strengthened very abruptly, you see.
Sitting in the ticket booth, door ajar to monitor your surroundings, you plop your head on your hand and glare at Sunwoo, chewing on your gum. If anyone saw you right now, they’d think you were trying to kill him with your stare, but the opposite would actually be the truth tonight– you were quite enjoying the sight of him wiping the sweat off his forehead and scowling at the neverending flow of customers.
The beauty of having ticket booth duty on premiere night is that everyone bought the tickets beforehand already, meaning that it wasn’t usually busy. Scanning the tickets and running the snack booth were the more difficult parts of the shift, and since Mr Kim decided to show up to work today, Sunwoo was graced with the snack booth duty– something that warmed you up from the inside and made you want to kiss your boss’s feet in gratefulness. 
There’s just something about seeing Kim Sunwoo in misery that makes your stomach turn and do cartwheels. You’re in love with his pathetic, tired face.
His eyes meet yours when he takes a moment to breathe– the look behind them is pleading, almost embarrassingly hopeless as he internally wishes he was in your place. You think this serves him right for the weeks of torture, and when he becomes you to come over with a motion of his hand, you just shrug at him and bat your eyelashes in faked innocence. 
It’s not your fault he’s on duty tonight. What does he want with you?
His lips mouth “Come here,” which makes you battle a satisfied smile. Poor Kim Sunwoo is helpless in his task. The rush just won’t stop and he’s asked of more than he can handle. You kind of feel sadistic when you truly think about your sentiments, but you think you’re only valid for feeding on his misery.
“Help!” he mouths again, and now you truly can’t battle the laughter anymore. His hair is tousled and sticking to his forehead. His uniform is dirty. The tie around his neck is loose. The sight makes you utterly satisfied.
As he mouths “Please,” accompanied by clasped hands and a pleading look that would work on most women, you finally decide to stand up from the uncomfortable chair in the ticket booth and shake your head in disbelief. You can’t even count how many times Sunwoo left you alone in the rush before a premiere, but you can’t really risk his father finding out you didn’t come to rescue his beloved son, since however you might hate this job, you still can’t lose it in your current living conditions.
Sighing and closing the door to the ticket booth after you, your legs take you to the snack stand. Eyes of enthusiastic customers looking almost high on coca cola and the smell of salted popcorn are on you when you finally reach Sunwoo’s side. 
“So I’m supposed to help you with your work whenever you ask, but when I’m left cleaning the whole theater completely alone, you can sit around and play on your phone?” you jab, annoyed with the turn of events. You find a spare apron and tie it around your waist, not really wanting to dirty your uniform as you pour caramel into some buckets of popcorn, hearing your companion chuckle next to you.
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“Okay, so I’ll be back in the ticket booth after serving this customer-”
“My dad’s watching.”
“This is blackmailing,” you snap back, smiling ironically at your coworker.
Sunwoo grins at you when he hands two cokes to the teenage girls behind the counter, shrugging to himself. “Not my problem.”
You learned long ago that fighting with Kim Sunwoo is a battle you can never win. Logically, you know you’re always right, but the boy always thinks he should have the last word in everything, which makes ending an argument with him pretty much impossible. That’s why you stopped trying to prove your truth. In your heart, you know how it is, and no amount of snarky remarks from the feisty boy will change your opinion.
You two work alongside each other in silence for some time. You’d even say it’s efficient– you make the popcorn and he makes the nachos, both of you taking turns behind the coca cola machine, and after a few minutes in his proximity when he’s not being the butt of the Earth, your brain starts to question why you two can’t operate like this on a daily basis.
Oh, how foolish of you.
You’re quickly brought back to reality when you walk over with the grande size bucket of popcorn towards the counter, meeting halfway with Kim Sunwoo’s chest.
It takes everything in you not to scream, but the restraint is deleted as soon as you feel something cold dripping down the front of your uniform, your white button-up suddenly sticking towards your chest in a big, dark-brown pool around your waist area. One sharp look into his eyes is everything it takes you two to come to a mutual understanding of what your next action is gonna be– Sunwoo quickly puts the now empty cup of coca cola onto the counter and puts a hand towards his head in self-disappointment.
“Kim Sunwoo, are you fucking incompetent?!” you scream out, the sensation of your cold shirt sticking to your already sweaty skin making you want to crawl out of yourself and scratch your coworker’s eyes out with the claws of the demon he wakes up in you.
“Look, you don’t have to-”
“I just washed this yesterday, there’s a line of people waiting for their snacks up to the fucking front door, you just ruined the popcorn I made so now I have to redo it, and you just decide to spill this onto me?!” you continue with your rampage, not really caring about the eyes of everyone on you, just letting out all your built-up frustration that creeps inside of you every time you see his face.
“As if I did this on purpose…” he grunts as he turns around in his place and reaches for napkins, not really putting much thought into his actions as he presses the material into the damp place sticking to your skin. 
The image startles you– Kim Sunwoo almost in physical contact with you, a paper napkin soaking up some of the coca cola flooding the surface of your skin– and as you watch his slender palms run over your front, your eyes falling to the fluffy hair at the crown of his head, you feel heat rushing to your insides, making you jump away from him.
“Sorry-” he mumbles out as you forcefully pry the napkin out of his hand, gritting your teeth.
“I’m starting to think you’re making me do everything just because you’re useless,” you spit at him.
Rolling his eyes, Sunwoo pokes his cheek with the tip of his tongue. “It was an accident.”
“Don’t care,” you grunt, walking away from the booth, “I’m going to change in the back, you better not burn the place down with the popcorn machine before I’m back,” you comment, sending him a sharp glare over your shoulder.
All that accompanies you to the staff room is Sunwoo’s loud sigh and a sugary-sweet tone he offers to one of the customers as he throws the ruined popcorn into the trash. “I’ll be right with you, miss!” 
If anyone asked you if you hated your job now, you think you’d say yes.
Who are you kidding?
You’d definitely say yes.
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TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE HATING GAME (2021)
You were quite pleased on your way to work today. It’s Wednesday, which usually means it’s not as busy. The weather is cloudy– good enough to not make you gloomy, but not quite sunny enough to make you wish you were outside instead of being stuck in the cinema the whole afternoon– and you packed a home-made sandwich with you to eat on your lunch break. Which is whenever, since you’re on ticket booth duty today– another great news. 
The best thing about today, though? Kim Sunwoo isn’t working today. 
That alone is good enough to make your whole entire day better. The sun shines brighter, your breathing is lighter, the air is clearer and the birds chirp louder when you know you don’t have to interact with the hellspawn that day. It’s like his absence alone is enough to heal all your wounds and delete all your worries– who cares about the fact that you’re barely getting through your Biology class when you know you won’t have to stare at Sunwoo’s face as you contemplate dropping out of university during your shift? 
Maybe you should thank him, in a way.
And with all of this knowledge, a smile plastered on your face as you’re prepared to sit through your 5-hour shift in silence with an occasional swipe through your social media and a well deserved chicken-mayo sandwich towards the end of your shift, it’s quite natural for your smile to freeze and your spirit fall the moment you see the mop of dark brown hair walk through the doors of the cinema. 
“What the fuck is he doing here?” you mourn as he walks by, only realizing you said the sentence out loud when the boy looks at you with a scowled face, a scoff escaping his throat.
“Didn’t know we were speaking to each other in third person now,” he says as he stops in his tracks and plops his head into the door to your booth, infesting your calm abode with his presence.
Deep breaths. In and out, Y/N. In and out… 
“Hello to you too, Y/N,” he smiles, irony dripping off his tongue, “having a good day so far?”
“It was better without you here, thank you,” you snap back, rolling your eyes at him when his eyes flash with something akin to a victory– it seems you both take joy in making the other one absolutely miserable with your presence.
“Sweet,” he nods on his way out, grinning to himself. “Well, I won’t be long, so don’t let your mood drop too much.”
With that, he’s out of the ticket booth. All that’s left behind him is the smell of his cologne– the tingle of lemon and bergamot filling your nostrils in a way that makes the fine hair at the back of your neck stand up all alert– and silence. It makes you wonder about his whereabouts– you can never know… what if he’s setting up a trap for you somewhere? You wouldn’t be half surprised. You make a mental note to yourself to be twice as cautious when going to the bathroom next time. Just to make sure.
Before you’re able to think of any possible situations that Sunwoo could get himself caught in (while completely ignoring the fact that his father is somewhere in his office in the back– for all you know, he might just need to talk to your boss, like a son does sometimes), the woodworm of your thoughts appears in your view again, two rolled-up tubes under his shoulder as he walks over to the front door.
“Wait! What are those?” you ask, eyes zeroing on the very clear posters in his grip. The shiny white back of the big posters you have to sometimes put up in the front of the cinema are unmistakable to anything else.
“Posters,” Sunwoo replies, calling over his shoulder, already halfway out of the building. 
“I know what those are–”
“Then why are you asking?” he huffs, shaking his head in disbelief as he takes a few steps towards the ticket booth, eyes meeting yours. His figure fills the door frame as he towers over you, still sitting on the chair. His eyes have a different kind of twinkle in them– you think, no, you know it’s mischief– making the blood in your veins boil at deadly temperatures.
“Because– well,” you huff, already frustrated, “we’re not allowed to take these,” you say, pointing to the two posters under his shoulder like a kid in the candy store. You try to ignore just how embarrassing you must look right in this moment.
“Oh,” he pouts, taking the posters from below his shoulder, unraveling one of them and resting the other one against the doorframe, “so you’re telling me… I can’t take those two amazingly big, shiny, cool posters of the latest Spiderman movie home for me and my friend Juyeon?” 
You’re only half-aware of the fact that he’s teasing you right now, sighing at his innocent face. “No, Sunwoo. You can’t.”
“Hm,” he hums, looking at the poster from top to the bottom, seemingly sad about the news, “that’s terrible. Says who?”
“Your… your father, Sunwoo. He told me when I asked him the other day if I could take–”
“You wanted to take posters home from the cinema?” he gasps, looking at you with big eyes. He looks stupid. So, terribly stupid. Dumb. No thought behind his eyes. You want to smash his head against a concrete wall. 
…He’s teasing you. It finally dawns on you.
Now, you want to smash your head against a concrete wall.
Still, you admit defeat with a solemn tone in your voice. “Well, I really wanted the Enola Holmes poster to put up in my bedroom…” you mumble.
“And my dad said no?” he asks, eyebrows quirking up towards his hairline.
“Yes, Sunwoo. Your father said it’s prohibited to take posters home from the cinema, that’s exactly why I’m stopping you right now,” you say, tone filled with annoyance. You know he’s enjoying your face full of misery. But still, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s following the rules and orders– if Mr Kim says you can’t take the posters home, you’ll go in the back and tear them into pieces before throwing them into the bin like you’re told to. 
If things were going your way, you’d advise Sunwoo to do the same. 
A day with Kim Sunwoo in it never goes your way, though. You should’ve been prepared.
“So I can’t take those posters home because my dad said no?” he clarifies, looking like a dummy. Like one of those kids that ask the most obvious questions during exams. Like one of those kids you want to sucker punch in the face.
“Sunwoo–”
“Well, Y/N-ie,” he purrs, the nickname making your hands curl up in fists, “that’s too bad… because I am the owner’s son, so… the rules don’t really apply to me, you see.”
And with that, he sends another sickeningly sweet smile your way before he turns on his heel and marches towards the front door again– not responding to any of your annoyed, infuriated calls of his name. He doesn’t stop at your warnings. He doesn’t care.
And just like that, he disappears just as fast as he appeared. The interaction didn’t last more than 10 minutes, but you consider your whole day ruined.
Fucking Sunwoo and his fucking privileges. And his fucking annoying face. 
It’s not even that important. It’s just two posters that would get thrown out to the dumpster in the back at the end of your shift anyway. You don’t even care about those posters in particular– you just with equal rules applied to all workers in the workplace.
It’s not like Spiderman Homecoming is one of your favorite movies… not at all.
You could’ve had that poster. You deserved that poster. You sold tickets for it and served the snack booth when it premiered– not Kim Sunwoo and whatever his friend’s name was.
You kick the wall with your sneaker. It leaves a dirty mark.
You should’ve known the day felt too good to be true.
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TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING (1993)
There’s a new thing Mr Kim is trying to lure more customers into the cinema. He calls it ‘Rewind Thursdays’, where he picks a movie from the past and airs it in the theater again to bring out nostalgia in the whole town. You think it’s a good idea– you remember when the Harry Potter movies had a rerun back when you were little, ecstatic that you finally got to see them in the cinema because you missed out on the experience when they were coming out for the first time. You went even though you saw them all before, and you had a blast. So in your books, this was the best thing that could happen to the little, old movie theater on the corner of the town’s square.
You were overbeared with joy when Mr Kim went up to you during one of your slow Wednesday shifts in the ticket booth with a paper and a pen, requesting you to write down your favorite movies. He informed you that he’d prefer it if they were older, to, quote, really get the nostalgia going, and you were happy to have some say in the list of movies to play for multiple reasons. One, because it meant he valued your opinion, and two, you don’t usually work on Thursdays, so if your favorite movie is on that day, you can go and relax in the cinema while watching it.
This all happened a few weeks ago. You gave the list back to your boss at the end of your shift, smiling brightly just thinking about it, and he told you he’ll get through it and see what he can incorporate. 
The plan gets to you on one uneventful Wednesday. You are stuck in the ticket booth again. Today is one of the Wednesdays where Sunwoo is in charge, because Mr Kim is out of town. You hate those days most of them all, but recently, he’s been giving you your freedom and letting you work in the ticket booth instead of cleaning the already clean cinema, saying he has stuff to do in the back. You suspect he just sits around in his father’s office with his legs on the table, chewing on his obnoxious strawberry mints. The image makes you furious only the tiniest bit, because the fact that he’s out of your sight and isn’t ordering you around is enough to calm your nerves. It could always be worse, you remind yourself. It could always be worse.
“I have the schedule of ‘Rerun Thursdays’ all done,” Sunwoo says as he walks up to the ticket booth close to the end of your shift. His eyes look a little tired when he holds up a thick card to you, the design of the poster making your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Did he do that?
“It’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’, actually,” you note, pointing towards the very obvious mistake on the top of the poster.
“Oh fuck– you know what, not anymore,” he scowls, taking the poster back from you and pointing glares at the title he mistyped, “I spent 3 hours on this, I’m not remaking it.”
“It looks like a kindergartener did it,” you note, eyes scanning the bubbly font and the orange-yellow combination used throughout the whole design when he offers the paper back to you. It looks like a Winnie the Pooh convention is taking place instead of an event full of nostalgic movies, and you would tell him that, but he beats you to it with a tired remark.
“Well, if my father wanted this to look professional, he should’ve hired someone to do it,” he mutters, obviously hurt by your harsh words, “I used Canva. I don’t know how Photoshop works and my dad can barely operate the computer, so this is what we’re going with, okay?” he says as he explains, big eyes suddenly bearing into yours. “Unless you wanna redo it yourself…?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Then this is the final poster,” he says, “I’m gonna hang those outside when we close,” he notes, watching you scan the movie titles. The event will take place in 4 weeks from the middle of November to the middle of December (right in time for Christmas movies to air, since you’re certain Mr Kim has another Christmas-themed business tactic up his sleeve). 
“Did any of your movies make it?” Sunwoo asks, surprisingly friendly. You can’t remember a single casual conversation with the male– all you two do it either give each other the silent treatment or scream at each other (more like you scream at him, but he always deserves it…), so you’re kind of surprised at the change. Not pleasantly surprised. Just surprised.
Eyes falling to the second movie on the list, you feel yourself nodding as you smile. It’s like a dream come true– you can finally see your favorite movie in the cinema for the first time. You don’t know who to thank for this miracle, but something in your insides feels very grateful. 
“Yeah,” you say, trying to seem unaffected. You’d rather kill yourself than to show any signs of emotion in front of Kim Sunwoo. All he deserves to see is your stone cold face.
“Which one?” he asks, seemingly interested.
“National treasure,” you hum, pointing to the movie on the list, having Sunwoo nod to himself. You expect him to say something to you– perhaps engage in a conversation like a normal person would– but suddenly, he gasps and takes out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket, offering it to you and playing the role of the manager again.
“Oh, by the way,” he starts, watching as you unfold the paper, “I know we don’t usually work on Thursdays, but since my dad decided to do all of this, we kinda have to, since he wouldn’t be able to handle the premieres on his own, so… Here's your schedule for the next 4 weeks,” he says, clasping his hands together in front of him.
It takes everything in you to not correct the male and tell him that those are technically not premieres, but when your eyes land on the little Excel table Sunwoo printed out for you, the feeling is overpowered with one of deep disappointment.
“I work the second week?” you ask, as if the question might magically change the schedule.
“I mean, I think you can read…” Sunwoo hums, shrugging to himself.
A heartbeat passes by of you staring at the schedule, a pit opening in your stomach at the realization. You only work 2 Thursdays out of 4, noticing the fact that you rotate with Sunwoo (with him somehow taking the first week, much to your surprise), but for some reason, one of those days had to be the day when National treasure is on. 
And sure, you might think this is good– you can just watch the movie while you work! 
Wrong.
Working means either staying in the ticket booth the whole time in case a customer comes, working the snack booth the whole time in case a customer comes, or cleaning the bathrooms. Working means also standing in front of the screening room sometimes, making sure no one is going in without a ticket in the middle of the movie. 
There is no time for you to watch National treasure if you’re working. 
Sighing, you decide to do something you always prohibited yourself from doing– you ask Kim Sunwoo for a favor. “Listen… my favorite movie is airing the week I work, so I was… wondering if we could exchange shifts? So I could go and watch it?” you ask, looking at your coworker with what you presume are pleading eyes. You hope it works on the boy– he looks like the type to fold under a tender gaze.
“So you want to get out of work only to still come?” Sunwoo clarifies, snickering.
“Pretty much, yeah,” you nod, tapping your fingers on the table.
“Well, the schedule is set,” Sunwoo shrugs, “I can’t do anything about it.”
Eyes sending darts to the very middle of Kim Sunwoo’s forehead, you take a few calming breaths before you speak up again. You don’t want to blow up on him when you’re asking him for a favor– you don’t think this approach would help you much in the situation.
“Why?”
“Because,” he shrugs. 
“Because?” you repeat. “That’s the reason?” you say, a weak laugh dragging out of your throat.
“Pretty much, yeah,” he mirrors your previous response, the blood in your veins already growing hot from the confrontation.
“Sunwoo, you– come on,” you say, “just this once, please? I’ll take the first week. We can just switch, what’s the difference?” 
Sunwoo tongues the inside of his cheek, eyes pointing towards the paper. “Schedule is schedule, Y/N. You have to follow it,” he says, an innocent look glazing his big fuckass boba eyes. Oh how you despise that look. It’s the look that tells you he finds this all so, so amusing, but won’t laugh in your face in hopes of teasing you some more. 
“Oh, amazing,” you say, throwing the schedule to the table, “I knew I could always count on you ruining my day, Kim Sunwoo. And I bet you did the schedule as well! You knew it was my favorite movie, so you made me work that week. Very nice of you, you dumbass. Thank you very much,” you grunt, annoyance flowing through your brain and making you truly merciless– you have no proof of Sunwoo even knowing which movie of yours made it in, or proof of him making the schedule– you don’t care, though. All you want at this moment is to claw his eyes out and pop them in between your fingers to ease the anger on your insides.
You can’t do that, though, so a screaming match will have to do the job.
“Stop being so dramatic,” he scoffs, eyebrows furrowing. “I didn’t even know which one your favorite movie was, so how could I do this on purpose? Plus, I didn’t even make the schedule, my dad did–”
“As if I would believe that,” you roll your eyes, huffing. “You’re all owner’s son privileges this, owner’s son privileges that, but when I ask you for one thing, one! Single! Fucking! Thing! You can’t do it,” you bite, words dripping in spite.
“Look, I really can’t-”
“You can’t do this one thing for me?” you cut him off, the question sounding like an ultimatum.
“No,” he shakes his head, seemingly unaffected by the conversation.
“Because…?” you demand a valid reason.
“Because I just can’t,” he shrugs, casual and cool. 
The world stills for a moment. You calculate your next move. Blood rushes in your ears, you see red. Your eyes fall on the clock– it’s 4 minutes after your shift. That’s it.
You take your coat draped over the chair, stand up from the chair and dash towards the front door. You can’t stand being around this man any longer– all he does is bring misery into your otherwise, already boring life. 
Speedwalking out of the place, you yell out a harsh “Go fuck yourself!” over your shoulder, leaving Sunwoo to close the cinema by himself. You don’t even change out of your uniform before you go– your head is too clouded with anger to remember to do so. Cursing out your coworker isn’t the best thing you could do in this situation, more so when he’s the owner’s son, but suddenly, you don’t really care about losing your job at the cinema anymore.
Maybe you should quit yourself, actually.
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TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS (2003)
In your books, there aren’t many things worse than working three days in a row. You can only think of so many even when you try hard enough: like going to school in your pajamas, getting sick on the day of an important event, ripping your pants on the metro, standing outside of the cinema in a popcorn costume for 4 hours… 
Yeah. Not too many.
So naturally, on the third day of your work week, putting one sweetened coffee into your stomach after another, barely keeping your head up from the lack of sleep you’re getting in between classes, work, and writing your essays until 3 in the morning, you beg god for a calm shift. It’s Wednesday, the first week of Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays’ event, and it just so happened that you were set to work the first half of the week while Sunwoo got the other half. 
The only thing keeping you going is the fact that you and Sunwoo will now basically not see each other’s face for the next four weeks– with the exception of Fridays and Saturdays, the premiere days. You’re getting a lot of shifts this month, but hey… Christmas is coming. At least you’ll have plenty of money to buy gifts for everyone this year. (Or not. You’re very underpaid.)
Entertaining yourself by watching the world outside of your window and mentally betting on the race of raindrops falling down the glass surface– because your phone battery almost ran out during class this morning and you forgot to bring your charger with you– you hope you don’t fall asleep right in this moment. Your boss is somewhere inside and if he oh just happens to check up on you (which he never normally does, but you can never be too sure), you’re certain you’d lose your job after taking a nap in the ticket booth. Some things just can’t be accepted. 
Cat fights with his son? Perfectly acceptable. Sleeping on the clock? Not so much…
Eyes drooping when the third raindrop race doesn’t go the way you bet on in your head, you figure you can just rest for a second or two… Eyelids shielding your irises from the orange hues of the lights inside, your brain already turning off and preparing a happy dream for you, you think that taking a nap is not such a bad idea right now…
Wrong.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” the noise of a thunder– actually, no, that was just someone’s voice– wakes you up and makes you jump in your chair, your knee hitting the bottom of the table making you hiss in sharp pain.
“Fuck, man–”
“Didn’t know taking a nap was in the job description,” Sunwoo grins at you through the glass window of the booth. His eyes twinkle in amusement as you drag your hand through your hair, trying to smoothe it down after tousling it in your weird sleeping position.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” you mutter, not even meeting his eye. 
“Oh?”
“Yeah… just had… my eyes closed…” you hum, scratching the back of your neck. Clearing your throat, you look back up at him with an disinterested look on your face. “Anyways, what do you want? You’re off today.”
Scanning his figure, fully taking in his appearance– the fabric of his dark gray hoodie a little stained with raindrops (you bet he ran from his car into the building without an umbrella. He seems like the type to be embarrassed about umbrellas.), the fabric of the garment enveloping his head and shading his face a little from the ugly yellow lights. His face is a little flushed– you presume it’s from the running– and his hair is falling into his face. You can barely see his eyes behind the curtain of chocolate locks– he really needs a trim.
“Damn, didn’t know you hated me so much that you can’t stand seeing me on my off days,” he jokes, leaning on the counter as if to stick his face as close as he can into yours. Thank god for the glass shielding you two– you think you’d give him a fist to the nose if you ever felt his breathing on your skin.
“I do,” you agree, impatiently drumming your fingers on the top of the table, “so tell me what you want so you can disappear again,” you say.
“I just went to check up on whether you were sleeping or not so I can tell my dad to fire you–”
“Kim Sunwoo–”
He puts his arms up defensively, eyebrows raising at your threatening tone. “Okay, not really. I don’t actually care that much. Besides, you promised to quit yourself anyway, so,” he explains, shrugging to himself, “believe it or not, I’m here to buy tickets for a movie.”
You shoot him a stare, the look in your eyes dead, stone cold as you ponder on his words. It’s cold outside, it’s raining, and Kim Sunwoo just happens to decide to buy tickets for a movie today. In a cinema that he works at. In a cinema that he works at tomorrow.
“You work tomorrow…?” you mirror your inner monologue, kind of confused at the turn of events.
“You know my schedule? I’m flattered–”
The irritation is slowly creeping into your bones again. Actually, it has been since he arrived, but the more he talks, the more agitating the whole encounter feels. Maybe you should tape his mouth shut the next time you see him– you bet the day would be so much better if you don’t have to listen to him talk. 
“Why don’t you just buy the tickets tomorrow when you work? Didn’t have to walk here in the rain,” you explain, sighing to prove just how annoyed you are with his presence.
“Because I kinda need them today,” he says, clarifying to you with the tone you use when you explain mundane things to a child.
You don’t know what he did in his past life to get the ability to annoy you each and every time you meet him, but you’d like some of it to get back at him in your next life. Why you’re even thinking of past lives and the possibility of meeting Kim Sunwoo in your next one, you’re not really certain, but if it helps you to not smash the glass separating you two, you guess you can get behind the thought process.
“Okay,” you nod, painfully calm for the amount of screaming you’ve been doing internally, “what movie?” you ask, turning your body to the computer on your right and breaking eye contact with him. If he’s a customer, you’re going to treat him like one– no small talk and no arguments. You won’t ruin your day even more over a man that doesn’t know what chapstick is. (You don’t stare at his lips, just for the record. It’s just painfully obvious when he talks. Sometimes you want to reach over and pluck away the dead skin with your fingers– you won’t, though. That would be weird.)
Sunwoo straightens his back as he fishes for his wallet in the front pocket of his jeans. “National Treasure,” he smiles, making you break into cold sweat, “two tickets, please.”
Like a scene in a horror movie, your head turns without moving the rest of your body, eyes twitching when you see him standing at the other side of the booth, calm and collected. Suddenly, the scene makes sense– he bought the tickets to see your favorite movie on the day of your shift. Of course. He just has to rub it in your face. 
Not only are you working that day. You will also most likely serve popcorn to him as he goes inside with whoever he is buying the second ticket for. And you will try not to trip him on his way inside the screening room.
It was a smart move for him to not go inside the ticket booth with you, even though he has all the right to. You bet he knows you’d claw his eyes out if you had the chance.
“You have to be kidding me.”
“What? I can’t buy tickets for a movie?” he asks, innocence dripping off his tongue.
Breathing deeply– while trying to contain the demon that’s begging to crawl out of your insides and tear him into 25 different pieces– you smile ironically at the male, gulping before you speak. “That would be 12 dollars, please,” you say, your customer service voice turning kind of eerie.
Not even letting the male choose his seats– he lost the privilege when he decided to come and buy the tickets for your favorite movie– you print out two tickets with the worst possible view (the ones in the first row, far right. If Sunwoo loses his neck because he has to look up at the screen for the entirety of the movie, well, who are you to hate that) and offer them to your coworker.
Like a mind game, the male slips them into his pocket without even looking at them, not breaking eye contact with you sitting behind the booth. 
“Have a nice day,” he says as he takes two steps back before fully turning and escaping through the front door, figure dashing towards the old Prius parked in front of the building.
Bawling your hands into fists, you try the breathing exercises you found the other week. Calm your body and your mind, the title said. You knew you’d need those when you saved the post into one of your boards on Pinterest.
Still, you can’t help yourself. You simply cannot. You let it out– it’s not healthy to keep negativity inside. 
He can’t hear you, but you still mutter a spiteful “I hope you choke,” under your breath as you settle back into the uncomfortable surface of the chair.
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TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – YOU’VE GOT MAIL (1998)
Remember the time you said you didn’t really mind having more shifts in November, because it meant a bigger paycheck? Yeah… that was true. For a few days.
Until you got a phone call one day from none other than Kim Sunwoo– whose number you didn’t even want to save into your contacts, but after his insisting that it’s for work purposes, did so under the name ‘dumpster raccoon’– telling you that you have to get to work immediately, that his dad said so, and that it’s an emergency. 
Do you believe him? No. Absolutely not. 
His tone of voice was too calm to be in an emergency. If his dad wanted you to come to work today, he could’ve called you himself instead of making his son do it. And also, you really don’t know what’s so important to take care of on a Wednesday, since it’s the slow day of the week, but still– you angrily took off the facemask from your face before the timer even went off, shut your laptop with a half-watched episode of The office in your Netflix window, changed out of your comfy clothes and marched towards the cinema. 
Because you never know. He might be saying the truth, after all. And if that was the case, you didn’t want to be caught disobeying your boss.
You get to the old movie theater on the corner of the town center at 4 in the afternoon. The sky is already getting dark and you feel the coldness of November seeping into your bones, and so you waste no time in getting inside and chasing the heat of the vintage-looking interior. Your boots make a thudding sound as you walk across the hall, seeing Sunwoo sitting in the ticket booth in his usual habitat: with his phone in his hands and his feet up on the table, chewing on his favorite strawberry mints. Now this sight screams emergency if you’ve ever seen one.
“What was so important for you to call me to work and then chill in the ticket booth all afternoon?” you ask, spite slipping off your tongue with every word you speak. 
Sunwoo looks up at you from under his eyelashes, hair still slightly shielding his eyes. He doesn’t even have his uniform on– there’s a gray hoodie enveloping his torso (you swear he lives in this garment. You wonder if he even washes it sometimes) and black jeans hanging off his hips– and the more you stare at him, the more you feel like punching him in the face.
“Oh,” he hums, stretching out his limbs from the hours of sitting on the chair unmoving, “dad said to tell you to clean the screening room. Since it’s Thursday tomorrow, and all.”
The look on his face is innocent. He looks like he just told you the most casual piece of information– and truth be told, he kind of did. The whole thing is just not making any sense right now. 
“I should clean the screening room today? You’re on the clock, though, why don’t you do it?” you ask, frustration clearly written all over your face. You were looking forward to having a self-care day today, so you can only imagine how tired of his endeavors you are right in this moment. 
“Yeah, but I am on ticket booth duty, so I can’t,” he shrugs, frowning a little to prove his nonexistent point.
“It’s Wednesday. It’s not busy. You know you can do both.”
“Look, it’s not me, it’s my dad–”
“Is it? Is it, Sunwoo?” you huff, arms flying into the air. “Or are you just using me to do the work you don’t feel like doing? Because it really does seem like that right now,” you bite, running your hand through your hair in exasperation. 
“Do you want me to call him?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice suddenly threatening. 
A heartbeat passes. You continue to have a staring contest with him. The fury inside of you rages like a storm. Still, you nod to the feeling of authority coming from your actual boss, and so you wordlessly turn on your heel and march towards the screening room, ready to clean the place in the least amount of time so you can go home and back to your selfcare endeavors. (You’re adding printing out Sunwoo’s face and throwing darts at it to the list of activities. You think you really need that right now.)
The screening room is dark when you come inside, and as you reach towards the lightswitch, you almost fear something jumping at you. See, the traumatic response from being locked up in the toilet from your coworker is still very present in your bones. When you stop working here, you’re going to ask for financial compensation for all the damage this boy did on your mental health.
You walk down the aisle of seats and try to inspect the damage. No movies air on Wednesday and there was only one kids movie going on Tuesday, so you can either expect it to be almost clean, or full of snacks that fell off the hands of grabby children during the cartoon. The more you inspect the place, though, the more it seems like… somebody already cleaned it before?
The floor is clean. The laminated surface under the seats has no smudge of dirt on it, like someone already mopped the place. And when you think back, the bins were empty as well.
The screening room was definitely cleaned before.
Which means that Sunwoo brought you here for absolutely nothing.
Suddenly, the lights go out. The whole room falls into darkness, and the anger inside of your veins very quickly mixes with panic as you try to climb up the stairs on the side of the screening room and escape. Your throat gets dry as you yell for your coworker, not really caring if your next outburst is going to get you fired or not.
“Kim Fucking Sunwoo, why the fuck did you call me to clean an already cleaned screening room?!” you yell, not really knowing if he hears you or not. Doesn’t matter– it feels cathartic to do so anyway.
Your feet stumble on the awkwardly-long stairs, your figure almost falling to the ground. Managing to hold yourself up and steady your body before your head hits the sharp corner of one of the stairs and makes you die, you continue on with your small tangent. “You really think this is funny? You’re having fun pranking me all the time? I hate your guts, Kim Sunwoo, and I hope you burn in hell!”
A bright light suddenly illuminates the screening room, coming from somewhere behind you. When you look over your shoulder, the screen is white for a few moments before the opening credits of a Jerry Buckheimer film flash on the big surface, halting you in your movements. The sound is a little too loud in the speakers, but it gets adjusted the moment you almost lose your hearing. The moment you see Nicolas Cage appear, it’s clear as day.
There’s a movie playing. And the movie playing is National treasure. 
You think you’re hallucinating. This is surely a fata morgana.
Standing in the middle of the screening room, your mouth hangs agape and your eyes go wide as you watch the first few scenes of the movie. Ben Gates already learns about the hidden treasure passed down through American history when you feel a slight nudge to your shoulder, making you turn your head to see a tall figure staring you down with a bucket of popcorn in their hands.
You are confused. So utterly confused. The movie was on last week. You’d know– you worked the snack booth that day. The screening room is empty and it’s Wednesday– what’s going on? 
“Can you sit? Or are you just going to watch the movie standing in the aisle,” Sunwoo grunts, balancing the big bucket of popcorn and two drinks in his large hands, the sight comical and almost making you want to watch him suffer some more.
Caught off guard, though, you let him back you into the aisle of seats, your figure slouching into one of the red cushions like a rag doll. Sunwoo takes place next to you, placing the big bucket of popcorn into your lap, before he settles into a seat as well and focuses his eyes and attention on the movie.
“What… what is this?” you ask, frozen in the seat. 
“Hm?” Sunwoo frowns, looking at you. “National treasure,” he hums, “I thought you’d know, since you threw a scene about it that one time.”
“I- I know that, I just…” you trail off, still surprised at the turn of events, “what’s going on right now…?”
“We’re watching National treasure,” he notes, talking to you as if you were slow.
“What…?”
A sigh escapes Sunwoo’s lips at your utter confusion, his hand coming up to the bucket of popcorn in your lap and throwing a handful of the snack into his mouth before speaking. “Look, Y/N. You said you wanted to watch your favorite movie in the cinema, so that’s what you’re doing. Enjoy my owner’s son privileges for once,” he shrugs, watching as your face morphs into an unreadable expression.
That explanation satisfies you for a bit. The shock in your insides, though? Still present.
There’s something about the whole gesture that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Sunwoo did something nice for you– out of the kindness of his own heart– and you really don’t know why he would even think of something like this. You two aren’t on the best terms either, after all. Maybe he finally went crazy.
Or maybe you did and this was all the result of your imagination. Either or. 
Yeah, you must be the one that’s gone batshit insane. Surely. You’re certain of the fact when you reach for the popcorn and accidentally touch his hand, the two of you deciding to get some at the same time, and your stomach does a flip and your brain makes a sign for you to quickly retract your hand– but the feeling of his slightly cold hand against your fingertips is now engraved into your memory and won’t leave and let you focus on the movie no matter how hard you try.
“You wouldn’t have to do this if you just let me switch schedules with you that time,” you note, “just saying.”
“I couldn’t,” he shrugs.
“Huh? But you bought two tickets..?”
“Yeah, but those were for my friends. I had to drive my mum down to grandmas that day, so I couldn’t go or take your shift that day,” he hums, not once breaking eye contact with the screen.
“If you would’ve just said so, I wouldn’t have made a scene about it–”
“Yeah… but I enjoy watching you make a scene,” he grins, shifting his attention towards you for a second with that lazy smirk playing with his lips. His hair is falling into his eyes and you have the urge to get it out of his face with a motion of your hand while also scolding him like a mother to finally get a haircut, just so you could see the twinkle in his mischievous orbs.
“You need to get serious help, then,” you grunt, pointing your gaze back towards the screen, unable to look at his face for any longer. He’s being annoying again. You’re annoyed.
“Probably,” he admits.
You two sit in silence for a while, the only sound accompanying you being the movie playing out on the big screen in front of you. You think this is the calmest you two have ever been around each other, and you’re starting to think that if Sunwoo just didn’t talk, you two could even get along.
Something touches the side of your thigh in the darkness of the room. Eyes darting to the source, you notice Sunwoo’s thigh pressing against yours, the cause of his obnoxious man-spreading, and something about the closeness of his body and the smell of his citrusy cologne makes you feel like your chest is heaving in on itself. You can’t stand him around you. You two can’t share this close of a space.
“Are you not leaving?” you ask.
“No,” he hums, “should I be?”
“Well, you’re on the clock…”
The man snickers, shaking his head in disbelief. “Y/N, you and I both know that the possibility of someone coming to buy a ticket on a Wednesday afternoon is close to zero. Me being there makes no difference in today’s sales.”
His hand knocks into yours again as you reach for more popcorn. You gulp, nodding. “Right…”
“And I wanted to see the movie to see if it’s really that good to make a scene about it,” he teases, another playful look sent your way from the corner of his eye.
You grunt, rolling your eyes. Oh how you hate his guts…
And even though you love the movie, you pray for it to end quickly. The more time you spend with Sunwoo forced into your zone of comfort, the more uncomfortable you feel– even the slightest movement of his body affects you and makes your brain turn on overdrive. It’s strange and it’s weird, and you don’t understand how hatred for a person could manifest in such reactions. 
It’s better that you didn’t notice you two sitting in the love seat. God knows you wouldn’t handle that well. You’d rather die than to hold on to that knowledge.
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TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – CLUELESS (1995)
They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service. As one of the only three employees of the small, vintage cinema on the corner of the town’s square, you can only agree with the sentiment– you have a lot of stories to tell about the wonders of the human brain.
Like that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were ‘too expensive’ – because naturally, you should be able to change the price of them when asked. Or that one time you got screamed at because the movie tickets were sold out– because naturally, you should add more seats to the screening room just for the two middle-aged women to sit on during the premiere of the newest Orlando Bloom movie. Or when somebody yelled at you for the toilets being full after the movie– naturally, you are supposed to throw people out in the middle of them peeing. Or build new stalls. Either or.
They say that you only start realizing just how stupid people can be when you work in customer service, but truly, you also realize just how rude they can also be for no reason at all.
Much like today. It’s Friday, which means it’s premiere night. The tickets to all movies this week are sold out already, so no one is on ticket booth duty, and much to your relief, Mr Kim took the snack stand himself. Your responsibility for the day is scanning the tickets and then making sure no one is getting inside during the movie without a ticket. 
It’s not a hard job. Not at all– you would even say nothing about working in the cinema is hard, when you don’t have an annoying coworker trying to make your whole life a living hell– but you see, customers love to make your job harder just by being unreasonably rude about things that are clearly out of your control. 
“Sir, I really can’t let you in, I’m sorry,” you say, tone of voice polite despite screaming on the inside. In front of you is standing a tall man, maybe a few years older than you, the expression on his face full of anger and vexation. They say a customer is always right. You agree only when the customer looks like they could wait for you after work and beat you up in the bushes. Sadly, that still doesn’t mean you can let the man inside without a valid ticket.
“What do you mean? Little one, I’m telling you I bought the ticket here, so if you don’t let me in–”
“All tickets purchased for the screening should be able to scan through this, sir, and if it doesn’t work, I am not allowed to let you inside of the cinema,” you try to explain, getting kind of desperate. The line behind him was forming and the movie was supposed to play in a few minutes, so if you wanted to scan all the tickets in time, you had to be quick.
He wouldn’t budge, though. His eyebrows are furrowed and the guy behind him seems to be getting angry as well, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up alert, like a cat when it senses danger. You try your hardest to keep your tone firm, hands clasped politely behind your back. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir, or maybe check in with the owner about the issue? I don’t have the competence to–”
“Listen, I won’t be talking to anyone, because you will let me in, okay?”
“Sir, I can’t-”
Your sentence is cut off by the man again, his fury making you take a step backwards in fear. “And if you don’t, you will see the consequences.”
Gulping, you try to think of a way to get out of this situation. Mr Kim is too far away for you to call, and he is also busy– the line is long and Sunwoo isn’t working today. It’s just the two of you today, so your options are getting slimmer. You can’t let that man in without a working ticket– it seems like the one he’s showing you is either a fake one, or bought in another cinema– but it seems like if you don’t, he’ll have you dead before the next morning. 
“So?”
Opening your mouth to answer (although your brain is still empty and you don’t even know what more to say), a low voice coming from behind you startles you in the middle of your crisis. “Is there a problem here?” 
Turning your head to the source of the voice, you’ve never been more relieved to see Kim Sunwoo in your close proximity. You watch as he puts a rolled-up poster to the ground behind you before he takes another step closer towards your figure, his expression stone cold and glaring at the man in front of you. 
“Your coworker here won’t let me in to watch the movie,” he complains, hand waving around in a threatening way. 
Just having Sunwoo around makes you more confident. Clearing your throat, your eyes dart to your coworker, seeing his face morph into irritation. “It won’t scan his ticket, so…”
“If it won’t scan your ticket, it means it’s invalid and we’re not allowed to let you in,” Sunwoo says, tone of voice way less polite than the one you were using before.
“That’s ridiculous-”
“You are ridiculous,” Sunwoo grunts, annoyance clearly written all over his face. “You were asked to leave, so maybe you should.” 
Truth be told, you’ve been in a couple of arguments with Sunwoo before. In none of them has he ever looked and sounded like this, though. You and Sunwoo argue with spite– sparks flying waiting to start a fire, curses and harsh words thrown around carelessly in moments of heated hatred. His tone is stern, but never threatening. Never mean. Not in the way he’s being right now.
It makes you stare at him wordlessly. He seems to be taking the lead in the situation, reacting territorially to the man in front of him. You can’t say you don’t feel safer with him around– you would be lying.
“Maybe you could just let me in and get this over with–” 
“And maybe you could fuck off,” Sunwoo says back, something in his tone making your stomach feel all light. He looks serious, standing his ground, and the man finally seems to get the memo that he’s not watching the premiere tonight, because he backs off and grits his teeth at the male.
“Your boss will hear about this,” he threatens, making Sunwoo chuckle.
“I’m sure he will.”
Sympathetic looks are thrown your way from the women in the line behind that can finally come up to you so you scan their tickets. You smile at each one and try to seem unaffected by the exchange, but the memory of it still lingers in your brain and doesn’t make you rest easy as you greet the rest of the customers. 
You didn’t even realize Sunwoo was still standing next to you, watching you work. He seems to recognise your shaken-up composure, tone of voice sympathetic and quiet as he asks: “You okay?”
“What?” you ask, surprised by the question, “oh. Yeah, I’m fine. He was just… being a bitch, the usual.”
“Yeah,” he snickers, “why didn’t you just scream at him like you do to me? I bet that would scare him away,” he notes, making you roll your eyes at the comment.
“Because he looked like he could beat me up, Sunwoo.”
“And I don’t?” he gasps, suddenly offended.
You scan the boy up and down, pretending to think it over for a few before you shake your head. “No,” you shrug, “I could beat you up.”
“Excuse you?” he gasps, crossing his arms at his chest in a defensive stance, the shock on his face mixing in with amusement. 
“Don’t believe me? Wanna try?” you test, the conversation suddenly flowing freely, without you even noticing. You don’t pay it much thought, but you guess getting along with Sunwoo is easier when he’s on your side. Most of the time, he’s not, though– and maybe that’s the problem.
“Okay,” he nods, “meet me in the back when you’re off. No weapons allowed, we’ll do it the street style. This is a battle of fists,” he points a finger at you, the sentence making you sigh dreamily and point your eyes towards the ceiling.
“You can’t even imagine how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”
Sunwoo smiles at that– that dumb, boyish smile you usually so despise– and shakes his head at your antics. The conversation dies down a bit after the exchange– with you scanning the tickets and trying your hardest to make it through the line before the movie starts, when your coworker, dressed in none other than his signature gray hoodie and black jeans, nudges you with his elbow. “Want me to stay for a bit, or are you good now?”
“I can take care of myself, Sunwoo,” you sigh, “you can go about your day.”
“Well, it didn’t seem like it a few minutes ago–”
“I can take care of myself when I’m not confronted with a tall muscled man that is threatening me, Sunwoo,” you repeat, looking at the rest of the line, “so with him gone now, you can go about your day. What are you even doing here, by the way? I thought you were off today.”
“I am,” he nods, rocking a little in his place, shifting weight from his heels towards his toes, “I was just… here to drop off something for you,” he says, clearing his throat and pointing towards the poster he was holding when he first approached you, the shiny tube now resting against the nearest wall. 
You shoot the boy a curious look, eyebrows furrowed in question. You don’t get to ask for clarification about the character of the poster, because he abruptly cuts off your train of thought, speaking fast as if to avoid making any more conversation with you. “I’ll see you in the back after you’re done for that fist fight, then. Bye!”
And before you get a chance to say anything back, Sunwoo swiftly turns on his heel and awkwardly marches towards the front door. You don’t have much time to inspect the thing he dropped off for you, but after you’re done with scanning the tickets and have time to breathe when the movie starts, you allow yourself to peek inside– 
only to see a National treasure poster staring back at you, surface glossy and glimmering, as if you just opened a chest full of gold. 
As you take the poster to the staff room with you (while also wearing a huge, embarrassing grin on your face for someone staring at the face of Nicolas Cage), making sure it’s safe and sound until you can bring it home with you, you wonder why you haven’t been civil with Kim Sunwoo before.
It’s good to have a taste of his owner’s son privileges sometimes.
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TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – ME BEFORE YOU (2016)
The day is Friday, the 1st of December. Mr Kim’s ‘Rewind Thursdays' event is over and while Fridays are always the premiere days, meaning you usually have to work the evenings either in the snack booth or in the ticket booth, your boss told you you can have the night off under one condition– you come in the morning (since you told him your classes are done for the semester, he’s been keen on making you work at random times of the day) and help Sunwoo with Christmas decorations in the cinema.
And, well, who are you to say no to a free evening? Maybe you can finally have that self-care time you’ve been needing before your exam season starts.
“Can you get the ladder from the back?” Sunwoo asks, tone of voice not at all interested. You don’t know what the reasoning behind his mood is, but you figure it’s either the fact that he had to get up before 12, or the fact that he doesn’t really seem like the type to like decorating.
“Why don’t you get it?” you huff, wiping your forehead off the sweat that’s cumulated on it over the time you spent bringing out all the boxes full of decorations out of the staff room. “I brought everything in, maybe you can do some work for once.”
One would think your dynamics with Kim Sunwoo would shift after he’s been nice to you on multiple occasions. And sure, you don’t really fight with him as often and he hasn’t pulled a prank on you in a while, but some days, his whole presence is still just as annoying to you as it’s been for the past couple of months. There’s not really much you can do about it– especially not when he’s bossing you around and not doing any actual work himself.
“I built the christmas tree,” he grunts, opening one of the boxes full of ornaments, squinting at the contains with disgust on his face. “And I put up all the other useless stuff before you got here too,” he says, pointing a glare at you. 
Looking around the theater, you notice various types of decorations all over the place. There’s some mistletoe hanging off the ceiling (which has you wondering how he even got it there in the first place) and garlands framing all the doorways– the greenery making the whole place decorated in a very vintage tone. It’s fitting to the theme of the cinema, though, and you can tell that Sunwoo really can’t be arsed to do any better, so you don’t mention it out loud in favor of avoiding another one of your petty cat fights.
Admitting your defeat, you storm back into the staff room and carry out the tall ladder, struggling to fit through the doorways and to cross the corners, praying to all higher forces that you don’t accidentally scratch off pieces of the wall on your way to Sunwoo.
You put down the metal construction with a loud thud, making the boy look up at you from beneath his bangs, the silent curse evident in his eyes. You don’t know what’s up with him, but again, you won’t ask. You try to tell yourself that you don’t really care either, but with every glance towards his direction, the question keeps bugging you and dancing around your brain. 
You force yourself not to care.
Watching as he tries to untangle the Christmas lights, struggle evident in the frustration written all over his face, you sigh and walk over to him, taking the bundle of wire out of his hands and threading your skilled fingers through the lengthy cable. You’re an expert in untangling– you don’t own bluetooth headphones, so you do this pretty much every day before listening to some music. Your headphones love to tangle in your pocket no matter how neatly you try to keep them in your pants– it’s a mystery. Almost like the Bermuda triangle. 
“I can do it myself,” Sunwoo huffs, eyebrows furrowing when he watches you work your magic.
“You seemed like it too,” you ironically note, letting the spiteful side of you win, enjoying yourself when you’re rewarded by the snarky roll of Sunwoo’s eyes– everything is back to normal. You two aren’t friends, you don’t like to be in each other’s presence, and no number of shiny stolen posters and private sessions in the screening room will ever change that.
“Hold this,” you say, thrusting the end of the cord into his hand, walking a few meters away from him as you detangle the lights, watching as he impatiently stomps the floor with his heel, reminding you of Snowball from The secret life of pets movie.
When you’re done and the Christmas lights are now a straight line of wire, you slowly walk over to the tall tree in the middle of the room, wrapping the lights around the fake forest-green needles. You’re glad that the lights are long enough to cover the whole thing and you don’t have to untangle another ones, and when you’re done, you watch your coworker plug them in, examining the small, colorful light bulbs. 
“Okay, now the ornaments,” you say, more to yourself than to anybody in the room, as you waltz over to the boxes and take out the decorations varying in shapes and sizes. You don’t really know what color scheme Mr Kim wants you to go for– and you doubt Sunwoo is aware either, so you just take out the ornaments you find the most pretty and hang them all over the tree, making sure each branch is covered.
Sunwoo stands around for a while, unmoving as he watches you, before he sighs to himself and finally decides to help. You leave him be, thinking that it’s for the best if you two don’t speak today when he’s in such a bad mood, but you break that promise almost immediately when you stare back at the tree after retrieving some more ornaments from the box to your right and notice the almost painful clash of colors.
You should’ve known you can’t trust a man with decorating. The beautiful contrast of the baby pink and brown ornaments you put on the tree is now ruined by the green ones you intentionally left on the bottom of the box. The colors don’t go together at all and you want to claw your eyes out every second you have to stare at it.
“Sunwoo, those colors don’t go together at all,” you say, point and blank– no sugarcoating, no offensive words, just straight facts.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that tree looks terrifying, and it’s all because you ruined it,” you say.
Okay, maybe you are overreacting just the slightest. But isn’t there fun in making your coworker completely out of his mind? Is this your roles being reversed for the first time? Are you finally winning this little game? 
Nevertheless, you are enjoying the outburst that follows from Sunwoo. Mainly because he looks like a child throwing a tantrum as he huffs and takes off the green ornaments he put on to the tree and throws the handful back into the cardboard box, not really caring if they break or not. You’ll be replaying this scene in your head forever before you go to sleep, for the absolute frustration and annoyance on his face is one of your biggest trophies. Right now, though, you’re battling the urge to laugh.
“Fine, do it yourself, then,” Sunwoo says as he walks away from the tree, choosing to sit on the floor cross-legged, taking out his phone and scrolling through social media.
Again, you don’t know what’s gotten into him today, but you force yourself not to care. You have a job to finish here so you can go home and enjoy your day, and that’s why exactly you just shrug and finish putting on the pretty ornaments, admiring your work every once in a while when you take a break and stare on the tall tree, kind of breathless from the beauty.
You’re not really big on Christmas, but you must admit that this is fun. 
The sound of Sunwoo swiping through Instagram reels is the only thing accompanying your actions, and as you look over your shoulder and see his almost sad face, you bite your lip just to not ask him what’s the matter. You’re not supposed to care. And you don’t.
“Can’t you put some festive music on?” you ask instead, your lips just begging to have a conversation with the male, despite your best judgment.
“No,” Sunwoo barks back, not even taking his eyes off the phone as the sound of the reel changes into another one, a swipe of his thumb across the screen showing him another video. 
Nodding to yourself, you carefully try to pick out your next words. Not really sure how to address the male, you choose to approach him with a hint of humor you’re not sure he’ll appreciate. “What’s up with you? You’re bitchier than usual,” you say, scanning the male with cautious eyes.
Sunwoo stops for a while– a millisecond of him halting his scrolling, an action you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t trying to see any shift in his composure– before he speaks up again. “Nothing,” he shrugs.
“Okay,” you say, a tone of voice full of doubt. 
When you conclude that you’re not getting more answers out of him, you nod to yourself and dart back towards the Christmas tree, making sure you make more eye contact with the glossy ornaments than with your coworker sitting behind you on the ground. Not much time passes by before he speaks up again, though, tone of voice quiet and hesitant.
“I’m just not in the mood today,” he sighs, “I have a final next week and it’s stressing me out, I haven’t slept well in quite a few days, my dad’s making me work more than usual and on top of that, I absolutely hate winter.”
“You hate winter?” you choose to focus on the least serious topic of the little rant, not really knowing when your boundaries lay in discussing the more serious ones.
“Yeah,” Sunwoo chuckles, “it’s like a shittier fall. It’s cold and dark all the time. It would be different if it snowed, though. I love it when it snows.”
Snickering at his sudden confession, you shake your head. “You’re like a little kid.”
“I remember you calling me a child once,” Sunwoo hums in agreement.
“That was different,” you say, hoping to cheer the male up at least a bit with your usual quarrel.
“I figured by the way you threw the toilet brush to my chest,” Sunwoo laughs, the memory of torturing you fond in his brain. The poster he gave you almost made you forget about the fact that he managed to make your life a living hell for quite some time– maybe you should consider this a wake-up call.
The conversation quiets down for a bit, even the sound of Sunwoo’s Instagram reels discontinued as you two marvel in the now much more comfortable silence. Testing the waters, you clear your throat before speaking up again. “Don’t worry about that exam, by the way. I’m sure you’ll do well.”
“How would you know?”
“You’re clever. You need to be clever to come up with all various ways to make my life more miserable,” you say, smiling when you hear him let out a breath of air through his nose, signaling a silent laugh.
“Any advice on the sleepless nights?” he asks, tone of voice light and humorous.
“Less things in your head,” you hum, putting the last ornament onto one of the branches, satisfied with your work. “Or melatonin.”
“Noted,” he nods, sharing a smile with you.
Walking over to the boxes stored a few feet away from the male, you open up the slim one thrown on the side, holding up the star. Your eyes meet his, a carefree twinkle in your orbs when you try to cheer up the boy’s inner child by doing a child's favorite activity. “Do you want to put the star on?”
He fails you, though. “No.”
“Why not?”
“You decorated it all yourself, so you can do the star,” he shrugs, not really into your idea.
“Oh come on–”
“I don’t feel like standing up,” Sunwoo grunts, the joy on your insides finally dying down when you get a taste of his usual composure– the one that really can’t be arsed with anything. 
Sighing to yourself, you waltz over to the tall ladder, and despite your biggest worries, you continue climbing up the metal construction even when it wobbles and makes you fear you’re gonna fall. The whole thing is kind of unsteady and makes your heart thump in your throat, but you choose to get it over with and finally climb to the very top, outstretching your arm and putting the star on top of the tree, the decoration process now done and freeing you off your today’s work responsibilities.
Something akin to satisfaction beams in your insides as you climb down the ladder, and now, you’ll write this off to you being a little too excited with the vision of a face mask and popcorn at home– but your leg slips on one of the steps and despite the ladder being now magically steady, your body comes crashing down to the floor.
A yelp fights out of your throat, hands go flying in a desperate need to steady yourself or hold on to something that would make you not fall hard against the marble floor, when a miracle straight down from heaven comes to rescue in a form of flesh holding you up and shielding you from the fall, a grunt landing in your ears when your body settles into soft fabric of dark gray.
Head snapping to the source of the arms around your waist, surprised at the person’s strength used to balance you two on your feet as you fell (well, your knees buckled, but still, they haven’t yet hit the ground), you notice a pair of chocolate orbs staring down at you through a curtain of dark hair, wide eyes scanning your face and breathing out a puff of air.
“Look where you’re stepping next time, for fuck’s sake,” Sunwoo huffs, watching as your brain tries to process the near-death experience.
Registering his arms firmly placed around your waist (now realizing the soft fabric was the hoodie he’s been living in for the past few months), the citrusy scent of his cologne makes your head spin, eyes scanning his face in quick motions, as if not aware of who was your savior. You wonder how he even got to you on time (not really noticing him walking over to the ladder as soon as he saw it wobbling under you, holding it down to keep you from toppling over), and when your eyes curiously gaze at his chapped, yet plush lips, the warmth in your stomach makes you finally snap out of it. 
Untangling yourself out of his limbs, much like you did with the Christmas lights a few minutes ago, you clear your throat and try to get your breathing back to normal. Your knees are a little weak, but you write that off to the shock of falling. 
“This wouldn’t have happened if you just agreed to put the star on,” you complain, straightening your clothes as you walk over to the empty boxes nearby, stacking them into one another and avoiding all possible eye contact with the male.
It’s working– at least that’s what you keep telling yourself– up until you hear him chuckle and see a pair of hands taking the tower of boxes out of your hold, a charming grin sent your way as he walks away from you to the staff room. “If you say so.”
Okay, so it’s not working.
You’re fucked.
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TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – THE PROPOSAL (2009)
“So… I was thinking,” Sunwoo starts one day, a bundle of rolled-up posters stacked up in his arms like a pyramid, puffs of cold air making clouds appear in front of his face as he speaks, “would you want to go see a movie with me?” he asks, tone of voice casual, as if he was asking you about the weather.
The poster you’re currently putting up into one of the glass holders outside of the cinema almost slips out of your frozen fingers out of shock, your heart skipping a beat. “Huh?” you hum, taking out a container full of pins out of your coat pocket and securing the poster to its designated place. “You want to bring money to your father’s competitor?” you joke.
“What? No,” he quickly replies, furrowing his brows as he shakes his head. “I meant, like, here,” he says, nodding towards the building to prove his point, taking a step aside when you close the glass door of the poster holder and move towards the next one, 3 more movie banners left to put up outside of the cinema. 
The wires in your brain work on full force, trying to clear out any confusion caused by his sudden invitation. Sure, you two have gotten closer ever since you talked with him at the Christmas tree a week ago, but still, you didn’t know it was enough to hang out outside of work hours. 
Instead of focusing the conversation on this unpredictable development, you turn towards clearing out the logistics instead. “How would we even do that? We either work at the same time or you work when I don’t and the other way around,” you say, taking the next poster from him and putting it up.
All of the movies airing the next two weeks are Christmas movies. Some of them are old, some of them are premieres, but still– you can’t really imagine watching a festive movie with your coworker. Up until last week, you thought of him as the next reincarnation of Grinch.
“I could get my sister to switch with me on a day you don’t work,” he hums, sheepish about his preposition. There’s something bashful in his tone, something shy in his gaze as he watches you put up the movie poster, but you try your hardest to ignore it for the sake of your sanity. You’re already having a hard time dealing with the fact that he appeared in your dreams twice since he caught you in his arms last week. You don’t need to add the switch in dynamic to the mix.
“Isn’t she underage?” you ask, snickering.
“Yeah, and?” he shrugs. “It’s a family business, Y/N. Everyone has to be included, underage or not.”
A laugh erupts out of your throat at the comment, shaking your head at the boy in disbelief. 
“What would you even wanna see? Those are all Christmas movies,” you say, moving along and focusing your attention to the glossy material in your fingers.
“I don’t see how that’s a problem,” he says. 
“Oh, it is,” you mutter, “I don’t like Christmas movies.”
Sunwoo grunts. “Well, I don’t really care. I saw your favorite movie with you, so you can return the favor and see my favorite movie with me,” he speaks up, making you roll your eyes at his words.
“There’s no way any of those movies is your favorite,” you note, doubtful tone haunting the boy.
“You wouldn’t know,” he laughs, making your heart do cartwheels at the sound, his teasing making you feel warmth despite the cold breeze trying to make your bones freeze into blocks of ice. 
“I won’t go unless I believe you,” you say, grinning as you close the glass box and take the last poster out of Sunwoo’s hands, watching as the boy puts his frozen fingers into the comfort of his warm jacket, shielding them from the cold. 
“Not fair.”
“Very fair, actually.”
“Oh come on,” he sighs, shaking his head in disagreement, “I thought we could watch a Christmas movie as a celebration to the end of semester,” he says, tone of voice almost pleading.
Securing the last banner into its designated place, you turn towards Sunwoo with an examining look on your face. He seems to be completely serious, eyes big pools of honey as he watches your face morph as you think. Something in your stomach makes it feel like it’s flying, making you clear your throat as you avert your gaze towards the line of Christmas movie posters on the brick wall. “Fine,” you gulp, “so what do you wanna watch?”
“The Polar Express,” he says, pointing towards the A3 scale you put up last, showing one of the movies that were older, but Mr Kim decided to air anyway– as if he was aware.
Fuck, you think. That’s my favorite. 
“Absolutely not,” you cough, “I hate that movie.”
“Huh? How?” he sighs, face full of disappointment. 
“Just because. It’s too long.”
“It’s not even two hours?”
Eyes quickly darting towards the poster, pupils shaking as you look towards the airing dates at the very bottom, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to find a way out. “You’re working on the 18th.”
“Okay, then we can go on the 19th,” Sunwoo says, determined to make you watch the movie with him. Why? You don’t even want to know at this point.
“I go home for Christmas break on the 19th,” you say, shrugging. “See? It wasn’t meant to be.”
“Y/N, come on–”
“Listen, can’t we just go back to hating each other instead of you annoying me about this stupid movie?” you sigh. In the whirlpool of events, you forgot just how insistent Sunwoo could be– who knows, maybe this was the real reason why you were so irritated with him in the first place.
Slowly walking back towards your workplace, hearing Sunwoo’s sneakers hit the ground behind you as he trails after you like a lost puppy, a sense of momentarily victory flows through your veins when you recognise that you found your way out. There was no way Mr Kim would let his underage daughter work instead of Sunwoo, and you truly were leaving home the evening of 19th. You already had a train ticket– you’re not gonna change your plans because of a man you despised just a few days ago.
“I never really hated you, by the way. Besides, you’re only saying that because you hate the movie,” Sunwoo grunts, chiming in front of you– making you think he’s being petty and doesn’t want to talk to you anymore, surprising you when he opens the door for you and offers you a solemn gaze, waiting for you to walk through the entryway and go back to work. (For you, it’s sitting in the ticket booth in silence. For Sunwoo, it’s pretending to work in the back, since his dad is absent today again)
Reciprocating his gaze, noticing the disappointment behind your coworker’s eyes, you feel something in your stomach drop, the weight of it so heavy you quickly avert your look. 
“Maybe,” you shrug.
And maybe, the true reason is something completely else. 
The words resonate through your brain– ‘I never really hated you, by the way’. Funny. Then what were all those months of torture all about?
You decide you no longer want answers.
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TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – WHEN HARRY MET SALLY (1989)
You can’t believe you’re doing something nice for Kim Sunwoo.
Shoes hitting the gravel, your scarf pulled up so it covers your nose from the ice cold air, a hat hugging your head in warmth and shielding you from the aggressive weather, you start to contemplate your choices and your next moves. A sigh escapes your throat when your eyes land on the marquee above the entrance of the movie theater, teeth chewing on the inside of your cheek as you shift your weight from one foot to another.
Pulling out your phone to check the time, a shiny 7:24PM stares back at you, pushing you to walk up to the door of your workplace on your day off, 24 minutes after the beginning of The polar express. 
You feel silly. You feel oh so stupid when you push the door open and your body is immediately engulfed in warmth, the yellow dim lights of the cinema making your eyes slowly adjust to the brightness contrasting the darkness of the outside world. You feel like you must have gone crazy, especially when your insides start to get all light and bubbly, hints of nerves tingling at the tips of your fingertips and the deepest corners of your stomach. There’s no turning back now, you tell yourself– and when your feet automatically take you to the ticket booth, gaze landing on the boy with his bangs in his eyes and an expression worthy of a kicked puppy on his face, you suddenly feel like your trip to the cinema was all worth it.
Clearing your throat, you notify your coworker of your presence, his big, doe eyes staring at you in surprise. Sunwoo’s mouth goes agape, shock overtaking his features when he takes in your appearance. (You bet he thinks you look laughable– your eyes teary from the cold and your figure stoic, numb limbs hanging by your side.)
“What are you doing here?” he asks, the question not as aggressive as it sounded out of your lips every time he paid a visit to the cinema on his days off for all these months.
“Uh… I forgot some things in the back and I wanted to take them home tomorrow, so I came back for them,” you hum, the practiced excuse slipping out of your lips with ease, “can you come help me?” 
Sunwoo looks even more surprised at your question– although there is now a hint of confusion in the mix. What could you possibly have in the back to need his help with? For as far as he knows, you only ever kept your work uniform in your locker. “What? Can’t you get it yourself…?” he asks, noticing as you shake your head in disapproval.
“It’s… it’s on the top of the lockers and I can’t reach it, so-”
“Grab a chair…?” 
You didn’t really expect to have Sunwoo question your half-assed excuse. Truly, you thought this was going to go smoothly– but knowing Kim Sunwoo, you should’ve known it was never going to go the way you planned. You’re determined to win, though. 
And so it’s the time to bring out the big guns– men never say no when you praise them and make yourself look incompetent.
“Please? I don’t feel like bringing a chair and you’re tall enough. It will only take a second…” you pout, watching as the male in front of you sighs and stands up from his seat, nodding at your humble request.
Sunwoo follows you as you walk down the corridor, your heart thumping with the start of your little plan. Your steps are calculated and your movements carefully programmed, the nervousness in your stomach making you even more giddy with every meter of distance you two cross. 
Before you two get a chance to make it to the back, you make a swift turn and open the doors to one of the rooms on the left of the hall, dragging Sunwoo by his hand and tugging him inside. His body stumbles against yours, but the door closes behind him faster than he can react to the impact. Steadying the boy back to his feet, you watch him with anticipation, awaiting his reaction.
The truth is, you haven’t thought the plan out this far. The depiction of it in your brain always ended with you sneaking him into the projecting room and his curious eyes peering into yours. Something about the image of the events always made you feel too overwhelmed– you never dared to imagine the situation further. (That would mean admitting some hidden desires to yourself, so you never even tried. That all makes this situation twice as nerve-wrecking, though.)
“What… are we doing here?” he asks, eyes darting around the darkness of the projection room, the only light illuminating his pretty features being the movie playing behind the glass of the small booth.
“Didn’t you say you wanted to watch The polar express with me?” you ask, voice a few octaves higher than usual. 
“I… did…” he mumbles, confusion making him stumble over his own words.
“Well, you are working and I leave tomorrow, so I figured I had to find a way…” you shrug, watching as Sunwoo looks at you a little frozen, big eyes staring you down, gears turning in his head. You can’t really read him– you don’t really know if he’s going to laugh at you or send you home for ruining his shift. You don’t know if he appreciates the gesture, or if he thinks you’re being embarrassing. You don’t know if he registers the slight tremble of your hands and the lightness of your breathing, you don’t know if he realizes how much his reaction could make your day or completely ruin it (just like always), and so, you panic– and when you panic, you ramble. “I know we are technically not supposed to be here– well, me, at least– but I think that being with the owner’s son could make my boss let me off even if he somehow finds out, which I doubt he will, but–”
Sunwoo’s face starts slowly morphing, the slightest of shifts slowly adding up to a change of expression, having the male break out into the biggest, happiest grin you’ve ever seen him sport. His eyes light up and glaze your features in the softest of touches, his head shaking in disbelief. “Oh, you’re adorable.”
“What?” you ask, your heart doing seven somersaults and five cartwheels, eyes a big pool of surprise.
“You did this for me?” he beams, his grin so big and pretty it takes your breath away. Butterfly wings tickle in your stomach at the sight, having you mentally curse yourself– hold it together, Y/N. 
“I- I mean, I didn’t really do anything, we just sneaked in–”
“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me,” Sunwoo hums, the teasing tone making its comeback in his voice, “actually, this might be the first sweet thing you’ve ever done for me–”
“Well, okay,” you roll your eyes, an embarrassed laugh dragging out of your throat as you turn on your heel and walk closer to the little table in the opposite end of the room, needing to avert your gaze from the boy for at least a second. The air is suddenly too heavy and it’s hard for you to breathe, heat rushing to your cheeks. 
Eyes focusing on the screen in front of you, your brain tries hard to focus on your favorite Christmas movie. Failing, your head running thoughts full of conflicting emotions and erratic exclamation marks screaming the name of the boy behind you, you ask yourself how and when exactly you’ve gotten yourself into this mess.
Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten this job in the first place.
Ears painfully alert, listening to each sound heard in the small projecting room– the shuffling of Sunwoo’s feet as he nears your figure, the muffled noise of the movie playing in the screening room in front of you, the resonance of your own heartbeat in your ears as Sunwoo’s hands suddenly sneak around your middle, your jacket squeaking from the contact of his limbs as he hugs you.
“What–”
“Don’t fight me, Y/N. Just this once,” he hums, voice deep, but still a bit hesitant. It’s like he’s walking on unsteady land, cautious of his movements in fear of making you run away. He’s in a new territory, in your personal space– the scent of his cologne fills your nostrils again as his head settles itself on your shoulder, the two of you silently watching the movie for a few seconds, not really knowing how to proceed.
There’s something intimate in the way he holds you, in the way the movie is a mere background noise to the marathon of your thoughts, the blue light illuminating your faces as you both try your hardest to keep your cool. 
A flashing thought of just how much you from a few months ago would hate the position it’s  in right now passes by your brain, making you instantly feel foolish. Oh how much you’d love it if you stood here unaffected right now– there’s no way to battle the warmth flooding your insides right at this moment, though.
“This is nice,” he mumbles, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Thank you,” he says, your insides squeezing at the sincerity. It’s not often you get to see this side of Sunwoo– the sweet, patient one, the side of him that makes you feel safe in his arms and appreciated with the soft tone in his words. And while you realize you don’t hate the playful side of him just as much as you thought you did, you must admit the novelty of the situation makes you feel a bit more joyful than you’d like to admit.
The weight of his head disappears from your shoulder, making you feel momentarily disappointed by the action. You expect him to pull away and take a seat on the chair, to finally focus on the movie playing in front of your eyes, the thought alone making your spirit fall. The fire in your inside lights up like a match thrown into a pool of gasoline just as fast again, though, when you feel soft lips come in contact with your cheek.
They stay only for a second before they disappear, an airy laugh landing in your ear a second later. “Please don’t run away now,” he says, tone of voice uncertain, telling you that now the ball is in your court– your next actions could either make him the happiest man on Earth, or completely break him. 
The choice is yours.
Your head turns his way, eyes instantly locking with his brown orbs searching for any signs of discomfort in your face. Slowly, as if still processing the events of before, your eyes trail over his features– the awfully handsome way his face was sculpted, the softness of his eyes and the sharpness of his jaw, the slope of his nose and the plushness of his lips. They’re not as chapped today, making you wonder if he started wearing vaseline, and before you get a chance to stop yourself, you start wondering of the way his lips would feel on yours, imagination running wild. 
He heaves out a shaky breath, your eyes darting back into his– as if to ask for approval, see if he’s okay with it. There’s a dazy look in them, gaze pressed to your lips, then to your eyes, then your lips again– a look you take as an invitation as you act against all your best judgment and lean towards him, pressing your mouth against his.
As if testing the waters, you make the kiss short. It was long enough to engrave it into your brain, though– to remember the way his perfectly shaped lips pressed against yours, the way the world stopped just for a moment, the way he tasted of the strawberry mints he always eats at work whenever he has nothing to do. 
Sunwoo seems to find liking in the action– lips glazing yours again, pressing another peck to them before he deepens the kiss, the tingling in your fingertips intensifying and the excitement bubbling in your frame making you turn in your position, front facing him and pressing up against his chest. His hands quickly adjust, slipping under your opened jacket and settling on your clothed waist, the slightest contact making your knees weak and settle your bottom against the table behind you, hands grabbing the fabric of his sweatshirt. 
He pulls back to catch some air, a boyish grin breaking out on his face, forehead knocking against yours in a sweet, giddy manner. “I’ve wanted to do this for months,” he huffs.
The sentiment makes a thousand question marks appear in your head– why did he make your life a living hell, then? Why did he pull pranks on you and make you hate every second spent with him? Why did he make you so furious each time and argued with you about the smallest things? How could Sunwoo possibly have wanted this for months, when you just only started noticing his attractiveness a few weeks ago?
“Why–”
“I’ll tell you later,” he says, cutting you off as he presses his lips against yours again, your mouth automatically welcoming his presence. Brain erased of all previous questions, his kisses working like a spell, you focus all your senses on the man in front of you.
Having your hands feeling up his abdomen, Sunwoo hesitantly asks for entrance with his tongue, running it along your lower lip until you welcome him in. You like this type of power battle much more than the one you had going on until now, and with each new movement, you feel yourself falling apart under him. 
His fingers tug down on the sides of your jacket, pulling it down. You don’t need it anymore– with how heated you’ve gotten, you are actually kind of happy that it is gone. One of his cold hands sneaks under the hem of your jumper, fingertips trailing up and down your side, the other one tugs down the hat from your head, discarding it somewhere on the table behind you before it finds its place on the side of your jaw, angling your head in a way that allows him to deepen the kiss even more, the contact of your lips growing firmer as seconds go by. 
Your scarf is swiftly untangled off your neck, Sunwoo’s skilled lips blindly trailing down the side of your mouth towards your jaw, feathery kisses ticking you before he gets more bold and sucks on the side of your throat, a shaky breath shyly escaping your lips.
“Sunwoo…” you say, tone of voice not really present, no real intention behind the call of his name.
The boy hums against your neck, having you gasp again when he lightly bites the softness of your skin, your hands shooting up to tangle in his hair when he licks the spot to soothe it after. Threading your fingers through his locks to ground yourself, you can’t believe you ever hoped for him to get a trim.
His hands firmly hold the underside of your thighs before he hoists you up on the table, continuing his confident attack on your neck when you’re sitting comfortably on the hard surface. It’s not like you didn’t feel excited, the tiniest bit thrilled at the mental image of his possessive marks all over your throat, but you were glad it was freezing outside and you could wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises from your family tomorrow. He nuzzles his nose into the hot skin of your neck, the action making you grin in ecstasy and endearment.
Getting lost in the way he was handling you, his touches firm, yet delicate, acted out in a way that makes you feel safe and comfortable with his passionate ministrations, you almost don’t notice the door swinging open, the figure of your boss like striking like the lightning in the doorway of the screening room.
“Sunwoo!”
The boy jumps, his body quickly ungluing itself off yours, as he listens to his father scolding him. “I don’t care what you two have going on over here, but you’re on clock! There’s a line waiting for the tickets for tomorrow’s movie and someone has to sell them right now.”
The boy clears his throat, voice a little hoarse. “Coming,” he says, trying to keep his composure. His hair’s a little tousled, cheeks rosy and lips puffed– the image that will haunt you in your sweetest nightmares now– and before you get a chance to say anything or let your brain process the events of the last few minutes, your panic works faster, making you act.
Quickly scattering for your things, you run out of the projecting room without saying goodbye to either Sunwoo or your boss, never once looking back.
You think of what you’ve done on your way home, bones freezing now that they weren’t in his presence. You try hard to regret your actions, but you don’t find it in you to do so– it’s kind of hard with the feeling of his lips still playing with yours.
Even though you’d hate to admit it just a few weeks ago, you must do it now. 
Kim Sunwoo does make a really good kisser.
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TONIGHT’S PREMIERE – PRIDE AND PREJUDICE (2005)
There are many thoughts swimming around your brain as you walk through the coldness of the town the next day, your duffel bag hanging off your shoulder. There’s a conflict between the actions of your body and your thoughts – feet on their journey to the train station, but head stuck in the small projection room of your workplace, your coworker’s kisses occupying your every sober thought.
It’s not surprising, but you haven't heard from Sunwoo since you left the cinema last night. Not a single text or a call– but you figure that this is just your dynamic. Sunwoo’s never been much of a texter when it came to you. He’s never had the reason to text or call you, unless it was work-related, and you think it will stay that way, even though you did make out with him just last night.
Maybe he regretted it. Maybe he just didn’t feel like pondering on the events any longer– maybe it was just a one-time thing for him and he didn’t put much significance to it. You wouldn’t know– it’s not like you’re suddenly an expert on the way he feels and operates. 
You, though? How do you feel about the turn of events? Despite not wanting to admit it to yourself, the answer came to you the second you tried to fall asleep last night, every soaring thought in your brain showing you the reflection of his dazed look, desires of wanting him to look at you that way all the time oh so skilfully infesting themselves into every crevice of your neocortex. You want Sunwoo to like you. You want Sunwoo to want you. You want Sunwoo to be so enchanted with your existence that he thinks about you before he goes to sleep at night– just like you have done for the past few weeks. 
The answer comes to you again when you feel something wet fall on the top of your cheek, making you turn your eyes towards the sky. Your breathing comes out in puffs of air as you watch the magic happen right in front of you– and as you watch the snowflakes scatter all around the place, you are in another inner argument. While the rational side of your brain is screaming at you to keep walking to the station so you don’t miss your train home, the delirious side is cooperating with your feet for once, your figure crossing to the other side of the street and walking over to the place you could get to even with your eyes closed at this point; all because you suddenly remember the conversation you had with Sunwoo when you were putting on ornaments to the Christmas tree.
It’s the first snow of the season. 
Kim Sunwoo loves it when it snows.
Speed-walking towards the vintage movie theater at the corner of the town’s square, you feel something akin to childish excitement bubbling in your insides, a hint of nervousness inviting itself into your insides when you push the door open and aim straight towards the ticket booth, where you know Sunwoo will be sitting, wasting another shift away.
He’s there– eyes pressed towards the window, gaze following the snowflakes kissing the cold ground. You expected more excitement in his character, more childlike joy in his figure– and after taking in his composure: shoulders slouching and fingers picking at the skin of his cuticles, you suddenly feel silly for coming.
Well, here goes nothing, you think.
“Sunwoo,” you call, making the boy snap his head towards you in surprise, big eyes meeting yours the moment he recognises your voice.
You don’t receive a verbal response for a while. The boy just stares at you, a bit hesitant and clueless. His face reminds you of a small puppy trying to take in the new situation in front of it. His lips are formed into a small pout, gears in his brain turning and trying to process the reality of having you standing there, face beaten from the cold.
Clearing your throat, you try to take charge of the situation. “It’s snowing outside,” you say, eyes peering out of the window, all thoughts suddenly escaping your brain, words blanking off your tongue, “and, well… you said you like the snow, so…”
The boy’s mouth hangs agape, a twinkle in his eyes slowly appearing once again when he stares at you, your nervousness doing wonders to your conversation skills. “I- I don’t even know what I wanted to say with that, it’s just- I don’t know… I saw it was snowing and I automatically came here, so-” you stutter, the sentence cutting off as Sunwoo jumps to his feet and grins, wordlessly taking your hand into his and dragging you outside.
The duffel bag falls off your shoulder somewhere in the middle of the hall, discarded to the floor, before Sunwoo sharply halts in his steps and runs back towards the ticket booth, still dragging you with him by the hand. The boy grabs something off the table, the item not visible in your rear point of view, and before you have a chance to register what’s happening, you’re outside of the building again, coldness instantly slapping you in the face.
It’s dark out, but the heaviness of the snow provides enough light in the silent evening for you to see where you’re going under the yellow lampposts on the street. Instantly noticing the lack of Sunwoo’s warm hand in yours when he suddenly lets go, you turn your head to look at the male.
Terror fills your veins when you notice him gathering snow from the ground and pressing it into a tight ball, a screech escaping your throat when you watch him swing it at you, a playful, boyish grin playing with his features. The male chases you around and most of the snowballs don't even hit your running figure (he does have an awful aim), but you still duck anyway and try your hardest to win your snowball fight.
Numb fingers creating snowballs and halting them at his tall frame, but missing most of the time due to his fast reflexes, you laugh and let go of all the worries and questions clouding your judgment. Sunwoo looks enthusiastic, so much more lively than when you found him in the ticket booth just a few minutes ago– but that’s still not enough for you to let him win.
Gathering the icy texture into your hands, you run towards him, taking advantage of his inattention as he’s bent over and taking more snow into his hold, and halt the whiteness into his face just as he straightens his back and wants to prepare for his attack.
More laughter bubbles out of your chest when you watch him drop his snowball to the ground, admitting defeat. The snow is all over his face– slowly running down his cheeks like teardrops, redness tinting his nose and the sides of his face. 
The male shudders from the cold, and you instantly start feeling bad. Only now you realize that he ran out without a coat, a gasp escaping your throat. “Oh god,” you mourn, hands flying towards his frozen face to wipe off the snow from his cheeks, fingers carefully tracing over his cold skin. His eyes open as he watches you, something in his gaze so tender you feel yourself melting even in the middle of the snowstorm.
The male shuffles his hands into the front pocket of his gray hoodie, taking out the item you now recognise to be the hat you accidentally forgot in the projecting room yesterday (and already mentally paid goodbye to), his frozen fingers tugging the fabric onto your head. 
“Why are you putting this on me? You’re the one that’s freezing over here!” you scold him, shaking your head at the male. 
He rewards you with an amused grin, watching your next moves. Acting on auto-pilot, not really putting much thought into your actions, you unzip your jacket and step impossibly near to the male. Holding the jacket open, you hug him around his middle, making sure you are sharing the warmth with him and keeping him as close as possible, shielding him from the cold with both the fabric of your puffer jacket and the heat radiating off your body.
Faces just inches away from each other, you peer at his face. He wears a warm expression, eyes peeking out from behind his dark bangs. Clouds of breath escape his mouth when he speaks, voice quiet, as if to not ruin the atmosphere. “I thought you would regret it,” he says, making you break out into a foolish smile.
“I thought so too,” you nod.
“And you don’t?”
Shrugging, you reply. “Not really.”
“Why?” he asks, suddenly doubtful. “You said you hated me. Which was odd to hear, honestly, since I did all this to get your attention anyway and I thought it was just how our dynamic works, but… I could see how it could be annoying to you…”
Chuckling, you roll your eyes at the sudden revelation. It’s sickeningly sweet how endearing he looks when he doubts himself, explaining himself to you in a nervous blabber. “I don’t hate you. At least not anymore.”
“You don’t?”
“No,” you shake your head, a tender gaze shared between the two of you, “I actually quite like you, I think…” you mumble, a little bashful to admit it out loud.
“You do?” he asks, the twinkle in his eye glimmering twice as much as ever before, tone of voice playful, yet laced with honest joy and surprise at your confession.
“I do,” you nod, voice barely louder than a whisper as you watch him lean closer towards your face, cold nose bumping into yours before he angles his head, breath mixing in with yours in the few seconds before he dares to kiss you again, capturing your lips with his.
The kiss is sweet. The kiss tastes of strawberry mints and the first snow, of unsaid confessions and longing looks sent your way every time you weren’t looking. The kiss makes your stomach fill with a thousand little butterflies, it melts away the ice around you, the two of you like a spark of a fire in the middle of a snowy land. 
His actions have your composure faltering, hands untangling from behind him and moving up to cradle his face. He melts under your touch, leaning into you as your fingers trail over his cheekbones. Holding on to him, thumbs padding his soft skin, you’re reminded of the cold only when he breaks off you and shudders again, teeth clattering from the freezing temperature.
“Let’s get you inside,” you say, planting a short peck to his lips, “before you turn into an icicle,” you giggle, watching as he scrunches up his face.
“I won’t,” he shakes his head, “love warms me up,” he grins, making you roll your eyes at his bold statement.
“You’re so cheesy.”
“But you quite like me anyways, no?”
Sighing, moving away from him and tugging him back inside the cinema, you shake your head at the boy. “I’ll think about it on my train home,” you bite back, opening the door to the theater and aiming towards the duffel bag you dropped on your way out.
Sunwoo watches you with a warm gaze, an adorable smile playing with his lips. His figure seems to be visibly taking in the heat again, his face adorning a flush, pink color. 
“So I take it as you’re not quitting anymore, then?” he teases as you walk back to the door, both of you ignoring the customers waiting for their tickets in the line in front of the forgotten booth.
“We’ll see,” you shrug.
“I’ll text you the schedule for January?”
“You better text me about something else too, Kim Sunwoo,” you bark back, opening the door towards the cold landscape, “or you’re gonna have a very uncomfortable return back to work in January!”
The boy laughs, the noise like a Christmas carol to your ears. “Noted.”
Slipping outside, you watch as he waves at you goodbye, your feet dragging through the snow towards the train station having more pep to their step now. You don’t even know if you can make it to the train on time, but you surprisingly have no regrets– you can always catch the next one, right?
Mentally wanting to slap yourself for the lovesick grin playing with your lips, you sigh. 
The male that once made your life a living hell is now the one you look forward to seeing the most once you come back after Christmas break. It’s kind of strange, really. 
One would think that working with movies on the daily would prepare you better for the biggest plot twist of your life.
979 notes · View notes
juyeonszn · 4 months
Text
BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT
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THE TBZ FRAT HOUSE IS HOSTING THE BLACK OUT OR BACK OUT COLLAB BY @juyeonszn AND @itsbeeble!
YOU’RE INVITED!
PAIRING tbz x f!reader
GENRES smut ﹒fluff ﹒minimal angst ﹒crack
WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! mature language, mentions of alcohol, sexual content, more warnings per individual fic!
SUMMARY have you ever wondered what your favorite frat boyz are up to in their personal lives? if so, then these fics are just for you! join us as we take a glimpse into the tau beta zeta fraternity and see what they get up to in their free time!
MORE LETS GAURRRRR i’m so excited to announce this collab with loml reese both as a cute fun little idea we had and in celebration of her 1 year tumblr anniversary! we also realized it happened to be the same day as tbz day LOL so that’s kinda crazy 😭 my boyz have been here for 6 years wow 💔 anyways i hope all of u love these as much as we do! and always, don’t forget to rb if u enjoyed!! send an ask if u’d like to be tagged in these <3
PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble @zzoguri @deoboyznet @cloverdaisies
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FALL SEMESTER
TRY HARD — LEE JUYEON (12/6)
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)
EXCITEMENT — JI CHANGMIN (12/6)
You know, when you told your girl friends that you’d never finished before, you were expecting it to blow over like no big deal. What you weren’t expecting was for it to spiral into a whole other mess.
SEEING STARS — KIM SUNWOO (12/10)
It’s slightly embarrassing how Sunwoo is naive enough to take Eric Sohn’s “advice” to heart. Luckily, you like idiots. Especially when they kick a ball into your face and agree to do a semester’s worth of school work for you.
CLUMSY — JU HAKNYEON (12/10)
When Haknyeon ran into you at a TBZ party for the first time, he didn’t think he would fall for you so quickly. Or literally. Or both simultaneously. But there’s a first time for everything, he supposes.
“FRIENDLY” COMPETITION — LEE SANGYEON (12/14)
The TBZ frat had always had a rivalry with the KAT sorority. At least, they did when you and Sangyeon became the presidents three years ago. What happens when you mix a little friendly competition into this rivalry of yours?
JE NE SAIS QUOI — JACOB BAE (12/14)
Jacob thought the concept of fraternities was stupid. So stupid that despite every single one of his friends being in one, he still refused to join. However, after meeting you at one of the TBZ parties, he’s starting to think maybe they’re not that horrible.
SPRING SEMESTER
LET LOOSE — KIM YOUNGHOON (12/19)
Younghoon has hated 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?
(NO) STRINGS ATTACHED — LEE HYUNJAE (12/19)
Becoming friends with Lee Hyunjae after his valiant attempt to save your life (stopping you from drunk driving) was certainly not on your year’s bingo card. Also not on your bingo card? Waking up in his bed every other night following, but it’s not like you’re really complaining.
NO BITCHES? — ERIC SOHN (12/22)
When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.
PARTY O’CLOCK — CHOI CHANHEE (12/22)
In spite of being a frat boy himself, Chanhee could never actually see himself enjoying the luxuries of the title. Besides, how could he with all the responsibilities of being treasurer? Enter you and your carefree spirit and Chanhee’s got a real big problem on his hands.
PRINCESS AND THE PAUPER — KEVIN MOON (PT. 1 1/1, PT. 2 1/3)
It wasn’t like you and Kevin hated each other. In fact, you quite admired him despite his somewhat indifferent attitude toward you. Well, now that you’re paired up for the last dance of the year, you guess it’s the perfect time to find out why.
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© juyeonszn & itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.
732 notes · View notes
itsbeeble · 3 months
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NO BITCHES?
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SUMMARY: When you met Eric, you’d thought he was just another frat boy, looking to get into any woman’s pants (particularly yours at that moment). You never would’ve thought that he was just a loser who really liked FNAF and just thought you were pretty.
GENRE: smut, fluff, crack, mild angst
PAIRING: Eric Sohn x afab!reader (ft hak, sunwoo, sunwoo's gf, and sangyeon)
WC: 10.5k (there go my plans of proving Ally wrong)
SERIES MASTERLIST
PERM TAGLIST: @juyeonszn @winterchimez
18+ MDNI AGLESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED
WARNINGS: um... okay so virgin!eric, kinda dom!reader, eric's a fucking loser, reader kinda makes fun of him at first for being a virgin, reader kinda teaches eric about everything from kissing to uh...yeah, dry humping, kissing, making out, oral (m and f receiving), eric cums in his pants, eric plays fnaf, um...public making out? public fingering?, multiple orgasms, eric goes from little virgin boy to I TOLD YOU WE NEEDED MORE GLITTER real fast, sunwoo slander, sunwoo's annoying in this idk, eric's a dumb gamer boy who needs desperate help from the boy who concussed his gf (cough sunwoo), slight bit of miscommunication?, eric cries (ummmm dacryphilia?), reader also cries (again...dacryphilia?), edging el oh el, sunwoo and. reader know the importance of CONSENT, i think that's all the important stuff
A/N: I'm never gonna beat the allegations... ally will always think i bias eric. Anyway, happy birthday to my little munchkin princess eric sohn 🥰🥰
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Eric was practically shaking as he approached you. Scratch that, he was definitely shaking but he could blame the ripples covering the drinks in his hand on the pumping base. It thrummed in his veins, or maybe that was his pulse steadily increasing when he locked eyes with you.
You. His gorgeous, intelligent, perfect…
Lab partner. You were his lab partner and at that very moment, nothing more. At least, not in your eyes. Eric, though? He was enamored by you. The way you laugh, the teasing grin when he does something wrong and you scold him, the way your body looks in that dress—
“Hi.” You look away from your friends and face him, a curious look on your face. He’s starting to feel warm. Was it warm in here? He thinks he’s starting to sweat, and can feel something drip down the back of his neck.
“Hi…?” Your hands are empty, and Eric forces himself not to jump up and down with glee that he doesn’t have to make the excuse of having two drinks for himself. 
“I’m— Do you—” He stutters, and heat begins to spread from his neck to his cheeks as your friends giggle. You just smile. A kind smile that has his body slowly relaxing the more he looks at your face. “Do you wanna drink— I mean— fuck, I meant do you want a drink. Not— not do you wanna drink— I mean that could—  that is also a question, but—”
More laughter from your friends and Eric suddenly thinks he’s gonna throw up all over you, your dress, and his nice white button-up shirt that he’d forced Sangyeon to iron for him. 
“Thank you, Eric.” You say, reaching for the cup in his left hand. Your fingers brush against his, and his knees begin to wobble visibly. Your smile disappears into a concerned frown, and suddenly Eric’s attention is on your lips. He isn’t paying attention to his surroundings anymore. Can’t find himself caring that your friends are still laughing at the scenario, nor that you shoo them away. 
“Eric?” Your hand waves in front of his face, effectively catching the boy’s attention. “Are you okay?”  
“Yeah!” Eric says it far too quickly, knowing immediately that you don’t believe him. Fortunately, one of his many charms is that he’s very good at lying to people. “I’m perfectly fine. Why do you ask?” 
You giggle, and it’s the sweetest sound that he’s ever heard.
“You just— you seem a little uncomfortable right now.” You lean close to him, scanning his face under the flashing lights. You can hardly make out his features under the colors. Blue, purple, red, white, green, yellow. All the colors under the rainbow covered his face and changed every few seconds. When they flashed white, you swear you can see a flush in his cheeks. 
“Why would I be uncomfortable?” He leans toward you with a sudden surge of confidence that has your heart pounded a bit. “Why would I ever be uncomfortable around the most beautiful girl in the building?”
And there it is, folks, you think. Your eye twitches, something so subtle that Eric fails to catch it. The irritation, the disappointment. 
“Ah, I see.” You grimace, and Eric begins to panic again. 
“What— did I upset you?” He asks, and you roll your eyes. 
“Eric, if you wanna get into my pants you’re gonna have to try better than that.” 
Eric’s heart drops to the floor, his face flushing even more as he begins to panic. He stutters, he tries to backtrack, he tries to explain himself. You, however, are hearing none of it. Not a single word that comes out of his mouth reaches your ears. 
“Stop, Eric.” You snap and his mouth snaps shut. “Just…Just stop.” 
You set the cup he’d given you down on the table, and he stares at it dumbly while you storm away to find your friends again. The amber liquid in the cup sloshes with the base echoing around it and the loud noise of partygoers around him. 
He watches it spill over the lip of the cup, and then sets his own cup down next to it, turning around to return to the party but the weight of crushing rejection sits uncomfortably on his chest. 
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It’s two days later when you see Eric again. Monday morning, an 8AM Physics lecture that no one wants to be in. Two weeks into the semester, and almost twenty people had already dropped the class. He walks in with a black hat covering his head, and a white tee shirt covering his torso. It’s certainly not clothing suitable for the cold air of early February, but he’d been unable to do his laundry over the weekend due to the parties on Friday and Saturday and the neverending clean-up that occurred on Sunday. 
He spots you, tucked well into the second row, and his eyes light up. Yours, on the other hand, narrow. You keep your gaze on him while he makes his way up to you as quickly as possible, hoping to have a chance to talk to you before the lecture begins. 
“Hey,” he grins at you, gently setting his bag on the chair to his left and turning to face you. Your eyes are still narrowed with suspicion. “How was your weekend?” 
How was your weekend? It’s as if the both of you hated that question; one of you cringing with something close to disgust, the other with something like horror. Is he stupid?
“It was fine,” you tell him curtly. Eric frowns, leaning back in his chair when you turn your gaze to the front. 
“Did I do something wrong?” He blurts out, and your shoulders sag. Was that the wrong thing to ask? Did he do something wrong?
“Did you seriously just ask me that?” You hiss out, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. He opens his mouth to speak, but he has a hard time finding the words. What is he even supposed to say? What if you think he’s an asshole for not knowing what was wrong? What if you never smile at him again?
“I— honestly I really don’t know!” You scoff and Eric sits up, leaning forward on the table to get a better view of your face. You can see the pout, see the way his eyebrows knit together in what you can only assume is faux confusion. There’s no way he doesn’t know what he did.
“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” You look at him fully now and watch the way his body recoils from the words. Hurt, confusion. No anger. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Eric Sohn angry in the two years you’d shared classes with him. 
“What— what did I even do?” The professor walks in, and he hushes his voice. “I can’t fix things if I don’t know what I did wrong!”
“That’s your own damn fault then, isn’t it?” You click your pen, and Eric shuts up. You almost feel bad, carefully watching as he takes out his own notebook to begin taking notes. He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the lecture, and you feel a pang of regret in your chest. Maybe he really doesn’t know what he did wrong, you think, nibbling on your lip in thought. No, there’s no way he doesn’t know. He’s the smartest guy in the room, no way does he not know what— 
You glance at Eric again, this time turning your head to fully look at him. His blond hair falls over his eyes, even with the hat covering his head. His shoulders are hunched, his hand moving so quickly over the lined paper so that he can at least try to keep up with your professor. For a moment, you think about Eric Sohn. About the frat boy who had been nothing but kind to you since the day you met. About the boy who once gave you notes far more detailed than you’d ever written during the week you were sick. About the boy who—
No, you shake your head and begin to write down more equations you know you’re going to have to ask Eric about later. He’s a frat boy. All he wants is a good fuck and then he’s gone. 
But why did he seem so hurt when you spoke to him so rudely? When you turned him away not once, but twice within the past three days. 
You liked him, you really did! He was kind, thoughtful, and he was always helping anyone he could. He never refused to help anyone, even if it was a subject that he didn’t know that well. Had you gotten it wrong? Was he just trying to talk to you and you had responded—
Your pen clicks again as you give up on the notes, and you lean back in your chair to squint at the whiteboard in front of you. 
Talking with Eric Sohn was inevitable, but it was only a matter of how long you could avoid the topic—
“I want all of you to pair up. These will be your partners for the midterm project.”
Eric’s gaze turns to you uneasily, tilting his head in question. You bite down hard on your tongue, fighting every urge inside of you to turn around and ask the girl behind you to be partners. 
Fuck, how could you say no to those eyes?
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Your room is brighter than Eric thought it would be. When you originally invited him over to study that night, he had been terrified. Was your apartment going to be almost falling apart? What if it was really nice and he broke something? What if you killed him and stuffed him into a dumpster?
Fortunately, none of those things were necessarily true. Your building wasn’t falling apart, thankfully, although it was arguably nicer than any other off-campus apartments and you could still choose to kill him. 
It was nice, though. It was a two-bedroom apartment that you shared with your friend Eunseung, one full bathroom and another half-bathroom, a decent kitchen, and a nice-sized living space. According to what you told him in the last semester, the rent wasn’t too awful either. 
The walls of your bedroom were yellow, but not an ugly shade of yellow. It was pastel, not quite bright enough to be harsh on the eyes but not dark enough to make it hard to see. You’d lined bookshelves up to the wall, most filled with books but some with photos and plants and music albums. You had a small desk in the corner, and your bed was aligned with the center of the back wall, a light green comforter covering white sheets. 
“I’m surprised we’ve never studied here.” You hum, but your tone is distant. Eric laughs dryly and sets his bag down on the ground next to your bedframe. 
“You prefer the library,” he points out. “The lighting is easier for your eyes.” 
For a moment, you pause in your motions. How did he—
“How did you know that?” You ask, turning to face him. You can see the flush in your partner’s cheeks, and he ducks his head so that the baseball cap on his head covers his eyes. 
“I just— you would always squint when we studied at the library or— or at the TBZ house. I just…I figured that was the reason.” I pay attention. That’s what you knew he meant. 
Why does a boy who only wants to get into your pants care so much about you?
“Oh.” You dig your laptop out of your bag and take a seat on your bed, leaning against your pillows with your legs straight out in front of you. Eric joins you, sitting crosslegged at the other end of the bed. He’s careful not to get too close, shifting away from you when you adjust your position. Your skirt flares out to the side, ruffled by the blanket and exposing your thighs a bit more. Eric has to force his eyes to remain on his laptop. You notice, but there’s no anger with it. You choose to not even acknowledge it. 
“So what do we wanna do for our project?” His eyes flick over to you, and you shrug. 
“We could build something?” You suggest. “Maybe, like, a paper airplane launcher?” 
He hums, tilting his head back and wrinkling his nose in thought. 
“What about something with electromagnetism?” You nod slowly. 
“That could be good. We could keep with the idea of building something and make an electric motor with things people have lying around their houses?” 
Eric grins at you. “Now we’re thinking. We’ll have this done in no time at all.”
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Eric was right. 
The brainstorming and research portion of the project had been completed within a few hours, and the two of you had cast your laptops to the side to search your apartment for things to use. Paper clips, some sort of copper wire (you had no idea why anyone would have a copper wire hanging around their house. Eric, however, said that there were several around the frat house), wood, some batteries. Anything that the two of you could use. The only thing neither of you had was a staple gun.
“It’s getting late,” Eric notes with a quick glance toward your living room window. You hum in response, lying back on your couch with your phone in your hand. “I should get going soon.”
Your eyes flick to him, but he isn’t looking at you. “Do you wanna stay the night?” 
Silence. A long moment of silence, and then Eric looks at you with a look nearing scandalized. 
“What?” You sit up, draping your arms over the back of your couch and getting a better look at him. 
“You heard me.” His face is bright red, similar to the night of the party. 
“Why would— why would I want— I mean th— thank you for the offer but— but I can’t stay the night. Why would— where would I even sleep? I don’t have clothes to sleep in!” He throws every excuse he could possibly think of at you, adding to your amusement. He had no clothes, where would he sleep, you had classes earlier in the morning than him, it would be weird if he stayed the night. It was cute. 
You’ll admit it, Eric was cute. The puppy-like look in his eyes, the pout on his lips. Everything about him was cute. It almost shocked you how fast you were able to get over the anger that he only wanted to sleep with you. In fact, you weren’t sure that’s what he even wanted from you. Only one way to find out, right?
“Eric,” you finally cut off his rambling and his voice stops, leaving your apartment oddly quiet. “Come here.” 
He listens, slowly slinking toward you. Eric is nervous, you can tell. Every step he takes, every twitch when you shift your body. It fills you with pride, or maybe some other emotion. 
Eric stops when he’s right in front of you, just a few steps from the back of the couch and both of you (really just him) are all too aware of how his crotch is level with your mouth. 
“I wanna tell you something,” you beckon him toward you with one finger and he slowly, albeit a bit awkwardly as well, bends down so that his face is just above yours. Heat radiates off his face, so hot that you may start sweating soon. “Do you wanna know a secret?”
His Adam’s apple bobs, his hands gripping the couch for dear life, short nails digging into the cheap fabric. 
“Sure.” Eric’s voice is hoarse, and it makes you smile. 
“I kinda like you, Eric.” 
Your lips press gently against his. Entirely experimental, just enough to see what he would do. His body seizes up, his breath hitching in his throat. He doesn’t move against you, doesn’t tilt his head or part his lips. He sits there like the lead in a lame drama where the main characters seem like they couldn’t be less into each other. You begin to pull away from him, fearing you’d made him a bit uncomfortable, but a whine is pulled from his throat when your lips part from his. 
You look at him, but he’s already looking at you with wide, bulging eyes. 
“Eric…” You have a sneaking suspicion that you know why he didn’t kiss you. “Have you…has no one ever kissed you before?”
“What?” The boy’s voice is shrill, and you know the answer. “Of— of course, I’ve been kissed? What kind of question is that?” 
Your lips quirk up. “Are you sure? It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, you know.”
“What— why would I be embarrassed?” His frustration and denial are cute. Adorable, really. 
“Because you’re a sophomore in college and have been kissed once— by your physics partner, no less.” You smirk playfully and then gasp, pushing up and toward him suddenly. He reels back, nearly falling backward with the suddenness of the motion. “Eric Sohn! Are you a virgin?”
Eric looks like he’s about to cry from embarrassment, and he turns away from you completely. You grimace briefly and climb off the couch to come around and stand in front of him. He avoids your gaze by looking above you, around you, at the floor and the walls. 
“Eric,” your voice is gentle now. He doesn’t move, nor does he make any noise. He’s like a deer in headlights. “Eric, can you look at me.”
“No,” he denies, crossing his arms over his chest. You feel a bubble of amusement rising in your stomach. “You’re just gonna make fun of me.”
“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” You promise, your hand grazing his forearm. Eric’s eyes lock with yours, and for once you choose to hold his gaze. “Now, can you tell me the truth so I can help you?” 
“Help me,” he echoes with an air of offense. “I don’t need help!”
“Eric, you’re a sophomore in college who’s in the most popular frat on the campus. Add onto that your personality and your good looks, you should be getting bitches left and right.” You say pointedly and the tips of his ears flush red. Or, rather, as red as they can when his whole face is burning up from your prior insinuations. 
“What if I’m just waiting for marriage?” He counters. “Or— or the right person?” Your lips draw into a thin line, knowing that statement was bullshit. 
“We both know you wouldn’t be hard as a rock right now if that was the case.”
Eric’s heart plummets to the ground, his eyes following it to check for himself. To his complete and utter dismay, you weren’t lying. Pressing against the front of his cargo pants was the solid outline of his member, straining against the seam and begging to be released. 
“I— I am so— so sorry,” he stammers, his hands yanking the edge of his sweatshirt down to cover himself, his hands remaining carefully placed over his crotch but he knows it’s too late. “I didn’t— I don’t— oh my god I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
“It’s fine,” you reassure him, holding tightly onto his sleeve so he can’t run for the door. “I knew you wanted to sleep with me, it was kind of obvious.”
“No I— I don’t want—” Eric frantically shakes his head. “I don’t— I can’t— I don’t wanna sleep with you— I mean I do, I really really do, but not— not like this—”
The hand on his sleeve comes up to grab his cheeks, squeezing them together until his lips are pushed out and he can’t speak anymore. 
“You can admit it, Eric.” You hum, and with your hand still on his face, you begin to walk him back and around to the side of the couch. He yelps when you push him back, letting go of his face and watching him fall over the arm and land with an oof on the cushions. “You can admit that you wanted to fuck me from the moment you saw me.”
“But I—” He choked on spit before he could finish talking, eyes widening into saucers when you climbed onto the couch, crawling up to sit on his lap. He’s sitting up straight now, but the risk of falling back again is high with nothing to support his spine. Your hands just rest on his shoulders, not digging in or moving to grasp anything else. They stay there, waiting for him to make the first move. 
“Tell me if you don’t want me to continue, Eric.” His hands are trembling, his pulse higher than it’s ever been. He slowly rotates his body, placing his feet firmly on the ground and resting his spine against the back of the couch so that he doesn’t hurt either of you. 
“I want—” his voice cracks. 
“What do you want?” Your lips are on his neck, featherlight kisses being left in your wake and knocking the breath out of him. He’d never felt like this, he’d never been touched like this save for his own hand in the darkness of his room with an animated video on loop on his laptop screen. At his lack of response, you pull your lips back from his neck. Eric lets out a loud whine at this, his left hand coming to the back of your head to lightly try and push you back into him. 
“Keep doing that,” he gasps out, and you smile. 
“Don’t you want me to kiss you?” You ask him, and another whine tumbles from his lips.
“I— fuck, I do— god, why are you doing this to me?”
“I just wanna know what you want, Eric,” you’re teasing him and you know it, but you’re pretty sure Eric might fall to pieces if you don’t give him something soon. “Can’t you tell me what you want?” 
“Just—” he leans his head back, and you watch the rapid bobbing of his throat as he tries to swallow and take in air and do anything to calm himself down. “Just do something.”
“What’s the magic word?” He raises his head, gasping when he finds your lips suddenly inches from his own. 
“Ple— please?” Your lips quirk up.
“Actually, it was—”
You don’t get the chance to tease him anymore. He crushes your lips together with so much force that it almost hurts. There’s nothing coherent about the way he kisses you, although you could hardly call it a kiss at all. It was more him putting his mouth against yours, tilting his head, and squeezing his eyes shut. It’s clear from the moment it started that he’s never been kissed before and that knowledge has you squirming in his lap. 
“Eric,” you’ve barely pulled back and he’s chasing your lips as if you’re a glass of his favorite wine. “Eric, hold on.”
“Why?” His eyes flutter open and you have to force yourself not to kiss him senseless, even if he has no idea what he’s doing.
“Just—” You inhale deeply and the scent of his cologne begins to overwhelm your senses, practically intoxicating you. “You’ve never kissed anyone before.” 
He nods, his previous embarrassment returning when you say that. “I mean…Yeah, I— I haven’t. But I—I’ve used WikiHow—”
“It’s okay,” you cut him off and choose to ignore the comment about WikiHow, pressing a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Just follow my lead.” 
When he nods, you press your lips against his again. This time, it’s more fluid. It’s easier for you to kiss him when he’s copying your movements. It’s still awkward, your teeth smacking together painfully, but you can tell he’s getting used to the feeling. You’re able to part your lips against his, to open your mouth just enough for your tongue to slip out and brush against his lower lip. His whole body jolts, his hands digging into the fabric of your skirt hard enough that your skin would be bruised the next day. His hips roll up against yours, drawing a heady moan out of you. 
When Eric parts from you, his eyes are hazy. “Did— did you like when I did that?” 
“Yes,” you groan and begin to roll your hips down into his, watching the way his eyes roll into the back of his head and his back arches off the couch. 
“F-Fuck, okay,” He screws his eyes shut again, lips completely parted as the two of you begin to hump into each other like some damn animals. Your lips meld together again, and you let your tongue slither into his mouth. It’s obvious that Eric has no idea what to do with his tongue— pushing against yours aggressively, shoving it to the side, and trying to push his into your mouth— but as the minutes pass, he begins to understand what to do. He begins to understand what makes your body react positively and what has you unintentionally cringing away from him. 
Your lips part from his one more time but you hardly give him time to complain before you place a kiss on his cheek, then the corner of his jaw, and then right below his ear. He emits a nearly wild moan at this, his hips jerking up into yours in such a way that his bulge presses against your clit and punches a moan out of you. Being the quick learner that he is, Eric adjusts his position and rolls his hips up again and again and again, addicted to the way you sound and feel against him. 
“Eric,” you whine, parting from his neck. “Eric, oh my god.” 
He just huffs into your collarbone, licking and sucking and trying desperately to not cum too soon, but you just feel so good against him that he just can’t help it. 
His hips stutter against yours, and he moans so loud you fear that the neighbors hear it. You let him continue to grind into you, to work himself through his orgasm as your slips back and escapes you. It doesn’t matter, you’d get yourself when he leaves—
“You didn’t cum.” 
“What?” You blink dumbly at him, and Eric begins to pout. 
“You didn’t— you didn’t cum. You should’ve told me. I would’ve held off!” You knew that wasn’t true. He could barely hold himself together from a few kisses, what made him think he’d be able to hold himself off until you came? 
“It’s fine, Eric.” You reassure him, but he’s having none of it. You can’t stop him from lifting you off his hips and settling you against the couch cushions. Well…you probably could, but you wanted to see where this went. 
You watch as he unceremoniously yanks down your panties, not bothering with your skirt whether out of impatience or because he liked seeing you in it. 
“Do you even know what you’re doing?” Eric peers up at you, a boyish smile on his face. 
“Can’t be that hard, right?” You laugh, choosing not to argue with him. You’d tell him, when it came time, where your clit is but for now? You’d let him work things out for himself. 
Your body shudders when Eric takes his first taste, licking from the bottom to the top of your pussy. You’re amazed that he didn’t accidentally go too far down like most (slightly more experienced) men have. It’s almost impressive how much attention he pays to your quivering body, and you flip your skirt up so you can see his face buried into you. Every lick draws out a moan from both of you, and you can see him starting to roll his hips down onto the couch. 
“Fuck,” his words are muffled by your cunt, and vile slurping noises accompany him. “Could get addicted to the taste of you.”
“Mm, feels good, Eric.” Your eyes flutter shut, one of your hands slipping down to tangle in his blonde strands of hair and tugging him up slightly. Your other hand taps at your clit lightly, making your body jolt a bit. “Here. This— fuck— feels good here.”
“That’s it?” He drops his head down again, swatting your hand out of the way to replace it with his own. His touch is much rougher than yours, his hands thick and calloused compared to your delicate ones. “Right here?” 
You whine for him, and he has to bite on his tongue to not cum again so fast. He’s quick to attach his mouth to your clit, sucking violently and swiping his tongue against it. If you weren’t impressed by him before, you most certainly were now. It hadn’t taken him long at all to figure out what felt good for you. Reading your mind and body was almost second nature to him, it seemed, and it became abundantly clear when your orgasm began to rise again.
“Close, Eric!” You gasped out, “I’m close!”
He groans against you, catching your hips in his hands when they begin to roll into his face. Eric wanted to drown in you. He wanted to feel you shake around him for the rest of his damn life. He wanted to hear you screaming his name until your throat was raw and your voice was gone. 
And the sight of you cumming on his face, your essence soaking his chin and dripping onto his sweatshirt? 
If he could stay glued to you for the rest of his life, he fucking would.
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Becoming a habit came easy for you and Eric. You’re not dating, but you’re unsure of whether the puppy-like boy cares or not. You discovered very quickly that he would do anything for you, would learn anything for you. You’d successfully taught him how to kiss a girl without looking like a dumbass (i.e. the straight-face-to-sudden-kiss scenario you’d faced too many times to count), how to finger you and hit all the right spots, where not to put his mouth and fingers unless explicitly told otherwise. There was, of course, your next problem.
Eric refused to put his dick in you.
You knew he was clean, both of you had gotten tested when you originally began screwing around. You knew he liked you, that much was obvious. He looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky, he told you how much he loved you every time you gave him head. He just…never went farther than that. Was he scared? Did he not want you as bad as you (very clearly) wanted him? It made you nauseous to think about, but it was getting frustrating how all you two did was make out, grind on each other like teenagers, and give each other head every time you saw each other. Shit— he was even fine with fingering you underneath the table in your lecture the other day! 
That’s why you developed a plan. Here you were, standing outside of the Tau Beta Zeta frat house under the guise of needing to work on your project (which wasn’t necessarily a lie) but really planning on getting him to finally fuck you. Yes, you were aware of the fact that he was a virgin but it was obvious from the start that he didn’t give a shit about that.
Unless he did. Your hand pauses just inches from the door, but you shake your head to clear the anxious thought and you knock on the door. 
One, two, three…one, two three…one—
On the third round of knocks, a boy swings the door open. His eyes are wide, his hair in disarray. 
“Hi.” You wave your hand with a smile, but the boy just stands there with a dumb look on his face. Were all the TBZ boys like this? 
“…Hi?” He says it in the form of a question, which draws a laugh out of you. 
“I’m Y/N.”
“…Sunwoo…” 
“Oh, the star soccer player, right?” He nods and you grin. “I saw your last game, the one where your girlfriend— I’m assuming girlfriend— knocked some sense into you. You really killed it out there!”
“Thank you…uh…can— can I help you?” You rock back and forth on your heels, biting at your lip in thought. The idea of wearing a skirt is choosing to bite you in the ass as a cold breeze picks up. 
“I’m here for Eric, actually. Um…Eric Sohn? I think he lives here, right?” Sunwoo’s jaw drops, his head dipping down as well and he steps to the side to let you in. You smile, using your feet to pull your shoes off as you step into the entryway. You see a pile of shoes to your left, the larger men’s pairs shoved into a large pile while some smaller women’s shoes sit neatly. You can’t help but wonder if it was the girlfriends that did this or if one of the frat members cares a bit more about them than the others. 
“He’s…he’s on the second floor, third door on the left…” You thank Sunwoo, ignoring how he follows you with obvious confusion and awe. Another boy passes by you, staring in confusion but ends up in the same state as the soccer player when he explains the situation. 
You knock before you enter Eric’s room, rocking on your heels again as you wait for some sort of response. You get none, and when you go to interrupt him, the second boy stops you. 
“Hi, um, I’m Haknyeon— you can call me Hak, though— Eric’s— he’s— he’s gaming. You can just go in because there’s no way you’re gonna get his attention by— by, um— yeah.” He stumbles over his words in an almost incomprehensible way, but you get the basic idea. 
“Thanks, Hak,” you dip your head and twist the doorknob. Sunwoo and Hak both watch you enter the room, only snapping out of their daze when you shut the door tightly behind you. 
“You…you saw that too, right?” Haknyeon grabs Sunwoo by the shoulder with a grin on his face.
“My best friend…” Sunwoo’s voice is quiet with confusion. “He’s…he’s getting bitches?”
“What did I say about saying that,” his girlfriend pops around the corner with a scowl on her face. Sunwoo’s face lights up, but it disappears at the scolding gaze she gives him.
“Sorry, baby,” he pouts and she rolls her eyes. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”
“Give them some damn privacy,” she clicks her tongue, eyeing the door. “Lord knows they’re probably gonna need it.”
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Eric is facing a large gaming setup when you enter the room. You can see the dark polo sweater which is partially unzipped to reveal some of his chest, the beige hat, and the khaki combo he had, unfortunately, chosen to wear today (you’re going to have to update his closet soon, whether you date him or not. You have to save the next girl he’s with). The lights, shockingly, are purple rather than the red you had expected. You can see expensive monitors and a keyboard, all of which are cleaner than any other gamer’s setup that you’d seen. In fact, his whole room is so much cleaner than you had ever given him credit for. You’d expected to see something absolutely filthy, but Eric never fails to shock you.
What doesn’t shock you, however?
Five Nights At Freddy’s playing on the screens.
You clear your throat, and he barely even spares a glance at you. You wonder if he even recognized that it was you—
“Yo, Y/N!” Oh god, this might not go as planned. “You’re early!” 
“Figured I’d come by to hang out before we got started on the paper.” You come up behind him, dropping your bag and jacket by the edge of the bed, revealing the black sheer top you’d chosen to go with your white skirt. You’d also chosen the perfume you know gets his attention the most, the one that always has him practically gluing his face to your neck. 
That doesn’t happen this time. He stays glued to his game, his legs spread wide open and tongue sticking out from the corner of his lips. 
“Feel— fuck!” His body jerks when an animatronic (Foxy, maybe?) comes out of a vent and gives him barely enough time to start protecting himself. “Feel free to make yourself comfortable, I might take a while.”
You hum, not moving from your spot. Your hands are on the back of his gaming chair, your eyes focused on the screen with fake intrigue. He doesn’t acknowledge you, so you let your hands begin to sink onto his shoulders. His chin tilts toward you a bit, but he corrects himself and goes back to ignoring you even when your nails graze the skin of his collarbone. 
“What are you doing?” Eric asks, but it’s more dismissive than anything. 
“Just watching you play,” you reply with a sly grin. Another jumpscare appears, and he grunts when you intentionally dig your nails into him (something you’ve learned he loves over the past two weeks). 
Part two of your scheme begins when you sink to your knees beside Eric and slip under his desk. This grabs his attention. Eric watches as you get comfortable, no longer paying attention to the screens in front of him when you run your hands up his thighs, grazing the button of his khaki pants. 
“Y/N, this—” his breath catches in his throat when you finally undo the button and pull the zipper down. You can see his member already hardening, twitching in his boxers. “You don’t have to— I don’t— why—”
“Jus’ play your game, baby.” You purr, your fingers hooking under the band of his boxers to tug them and his pants down at the same time. His jaw is hanging open, eyes wide with awe, but you stop your movements. “Play your game, Eric, or I’m leaving.”
His response is immediate, sliding his chair closer to you and lifting his hips to let you work. Your smirk is wide, and you yank his clothing down in one go, letting them rest around his ankles. Eric’s knee begins to bounce, and you rest your hand on top of it to steady him. His member, in just a few moments, has completely hardened. You can see the slick precum beginning to leak from his tip, and you lower your mouth to catch each drop on his tongue. 
The moan he emits is loud, and you pull your mouth back just an inch to dig your nails into his thigh.
“Stay quiet and don’t cum unless I say so.” He whimpers in response, and you bring your mouth back onto him. You begin by suckling at his tip, letting your tongue swirl around him like a lollypop, and listening to his barely restrained moans. You hear clicking and tapping on his keyboard, as well as random noises from the game
You take him a little deeper and his thighs tense, but he’s good at staying quiet. He’s good even when his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag around him. Even when you take him so deep that you’re choking on him and spit is dripping from your mouth and onto his skin. Even when you begin hollowing your mouth and bobbing your head, and swallowing around him a few times when you take him all the way down so your nose is against his pelvis. 
Another jumpscare and his hips jerk and force him farther down your throat. You moan around him, your eyes rolling back at the feeling, and that elicits a whine from him.
“Y/N,” he pleads. “I’ve been s-so good for yo—you right? Haven’t— Haven’t I been good? Ple—please let me cum. Jus’ wanna cum, please?” 
Eric sees you look up at him through your eyelashes, and just the sight of you slobbering all over him has his eyes rolling back in his head.
Then you pull off him completely, leaving his dick twitching and lonely against his stomach. 
“Why did— why did you pull off?” His eyes are dazed, and you flash a coy smile at him. 
“I told you to pay attention to the game, didn’t I?” 
“I— yeah, you did but— but I just— you—” Eric is tearing up as you begin to push your body out from under the desk to stand in front of him. 
“Poor baby,” you cup his cheek and your stomach churns when he leans into your palm with a sigh. “Should’ve just paid attention and beat the night, then, hm?” 
“Please,” he whines, leaving little kisses on your palm and working his way to your wrist, your forearm, your elbow, and then he’s pulling you onto his lap so you’re nearly sitting on his dick. You can feel it pulsing against your core, and you can’t help the tiny rolls of your hips to gain some sort of friction. “Please, just— I’ll…I’ll do anything you want. I’ll— I’ll eat you out, I’ll finger you, fuck, I’ll— I’ll let you sit on my face if that’s what you want.”
You hum, tapping your fingers against his chest in thought. “What if I want you to fuck me?” 
His body tenses and his cheeks begin to flush, his eyes refusing to meet yours. 
“Eric,” you say softly, moving your hand to his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Eric, talk to me.”
“I— I don’t—”
“I’m not gonna force you to do anything, Eric,” you reassure him, stopping the ministrations of your hips and bringing your free hand to the side of his neck. “I just want to know why. I want to understand. Do you— do you not want me? Do you wanna save yourself for another girl?” 
“No!” He snaps, his voice a bit harsher than he’d intended for it to come out but it has you flinching away from him. In a moment of panic, he brings his hands to your waist and tugs you closer to him. “I— sorry. It’s not— it’s not that at all.”
“Then why?” Your hands are playing with the ends of his blonde hair, and Eric swallows once. Twice. And then he tucks his head into your shoulder. 
“I…I don’t know.” 
You nod, disappointment filling you, but you don’t let it show. 
“Let’s work on the project.” You slide off his lap, ignoring the somewhat heartbroken gaze he shoots you. “The paper is due in a couple of days, so I grabbed a few sources and drafted an outline.”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He just tucks his member back into his pants and comes to join you on his bed. The air is tense and you know he wants to say something. You wait for him to say it. 
He doesn’t.
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“Eric, you’re fucking stupid.” Sunwoo throws himself onto his best friend’s bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of Eric hitting his head on his desk.
“I know…”
“I mean, we already knew this from previous incidents. Ahem, giving my then-crush-now-girlfriend a concussion. But holy shit I thought it couldn’t possibly get any worse than that.”
“I know!” Eric whines, sitting heavily on the gaming chair he’d gotten head on almost four hours ago, and could have gotten laid in had he not been a damn moron.
“I mean, you’ve been trying to get laid by this chick for how long? And you cockblocked yourself because…” Sunwoo trails off, his eyebrows knitting together as he sits up. “Wait, why did you cockblock yourself?”
“I don’t know, man!” Eric huffs and leans his head back. “Fuck, she was so nice about it too. Too nice. I know damn well she’s pissed at me but she’s too fucking nice to say anything.”
“Well yeah,” Sunwoo shrugs. “Sex 101— don’t force yourself onto anyone. Hello? Why would she do that to you?”
Eric crosses his arms over his chest, using his feet to spin his chair back and forth lightly. You had been really sweet about everything. You could’ve gotten mad at him, especially since this wasn’t the first time this had happened, but you didn’t. You wanted him to be ready. 
And he was. He was so ready! He just— he gets nervous around you! What if he’s a disappointment? What if he’s so bad that you have to fake an orgasm? What if he doesn’t fit? What if he hurts you?
“Eric,” Sunwoo claps his hands together to snap Eric out of his thoughts. “Stop getting distracted while I’m trying to help you in a way that won’t lead to injuries.” 
The poor, self-cockblocked boy lifts his head with a pout. 
“There’s a party this weekend, right?” 
“Yeah…” Eric tilts his head.
“Make sure she’s there. Use whatever excuse you need to, and make sure she shows up. Then, ask her to talk. Go somewhere private, talk to her, tell her you’re ready, and then fuck until the sun comes up.” Sunwoo claps again, throwing his out to the side in a cocky I just made the best plan ever manner. “First of all, gets you laid, second of all— free revenge on Sangyeon.”
Eric drums his fingers against his legs in thought. The plan was good, he’d admit that. Of course, not out loud. No, he would never let Sunwoo know that he was right about something.
“Fine,” Eric agrees. “But if shit goes south, it’s your fault.”
“Deal,” Sunwoo grins mischievously. “And if shit goes right, you owe me and my girlfriend dinner.”
“Deal.”
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Eric doesn’t see you at all that week, something that has him nearly crying on the ground in Sangyeon’s bedroom. He’d texted you, asked if you were okay, sent you notes, told you about the party but didn’t outright invite you. Nothing. No sign of you in lectures, no texts from you aside from a confirmation that you’d submit your written portion of the midterm.
“Take a damn breath.” Sangyeon rolls his eyes and tugs a formfitting black mock-neck shirt over his head, sliding a silver chain around his neck afterward. “She’s probably busy.”
“But she never goes this long without texting me! Or being in a lecture!” The youngest member of the frat holds his head in his hands, staring down at the white buttondown shirt that hung somewhat loosely on his body. 
“Maybe she hates you, I don’t know!” Sangyeon exclaims. “Stop bothering me about it!” Eric pouts up at the TBZ president.
“But you know how to handle these things!”
“Not when you’re on my ass about it all day every day for a week straight.” Sangyeon’s lip curls and Eric huffs, laying back on the hardwood floor. “Dude, just be patient. Who knows, maybe she was sick? Maybe she’ll show up today and you’ll get laid. Just. Be. Patient.”
And patient he was. 
He lurked around the party, a drink in his hand and a ripped red baseball cap covering his head and shielding his red-rimmed eyes from the public. They didn’t need to know he’d cried over his two-year-long crush ghosting him. 
“Who pissed in your cheerios?” He turns his body slowly, ready to crack a corny joke, and walk away from whoever yelled in his ear, but he stops dead in his tracks when he sees you. You’re in another tiny little black skirt and a black bralette that was used as a poor excuse for a shirt with a leather jacket thrown over it. He nearly crumbles in front of you, ready to worship you and the ground you walk on, ready to take you in front of all these people so they know that he’s yours.
“Oh my god.” 
You laugh at the dumbstruck look in his eyes, at the way his eyes are stuck on your chest, and the way your bralette pushes your boobs up just enough to catch attention. 
“You okay, Eric?” Your hand is on his arm, and in an instant his cup is thrown to the side and his lips are on yours, his tongue shoved into your mouth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, and, really, the suddenness of it all, but you don’t complain. You love how frantic he is for you, love how he’s ready to risk it all after just a week of not seeing you. 
When he parts from you, there’s a string of spit connecting your lips that only breaks when you swipe your thumb across his lip. 
“How’s that for a hello?” You say just loud enough for him to hear it. 
“We need to talk.”
“We do.” You confirm, but his lips are on yours again, and you’re so glad that everyone is distracted by a game of beer pong on the other side of the room. You let your eyes flutter shut, moaning into his mouth when he pushes his tongue against yours. They dance together, swirling around each other but not fighting for dominance. No, this kiss isn’t about that. This is two people being addicted to the taste of each other, two people who could never get enough of what the other has to offer. 
You have to force yourself to part from him, turning away so you can find somewhere more private— preferably his bedroom. He doesn’t stray from you, gluing his lips to the side of your neck as you try to weave through the crowd. It’s not easy, especially with Eric on you and refusing to let go, but you don’t mind. 
Not when he shoves you against his dresser as soon as his bedroom door is shut and locked. 
The handles of the drawers dig against your spine, but you’re too distracted by Eric’s lips on your chest to care. His hat is missing, likely somewhere on the staircase. Your jacket has been thrown to the opposite side of the room, the straps of your bralette shoved down and both breasts freed from its confines so Eric can lick and suck and bite at the soft mounds. 
“Eric,” you moan out, arching your back into his hunched form. He groans against you, sucking hard at your nipple and eliciting a loud moan from you. “Eric, pick me up.” 
Without even pulling away, he does, plopping you unceremoniously onto his dresser and moving his lips to the other breast, replacing his mouth with his hand. Your hand comes to the back of his head, and you find yourself smiling at the desperation your lover shows. 
“Missed me that much, huh?” Your composure is crumbling, but you don’t care. “Might have to disappear more often.”
He rips away from your chest, eyes narrowed into a glare. “Don’t even joke about that. I thought you died.”
You kiss him again, both hands holding his face to yours, and your legs wrap around his waist. Eric’s hands find your thighs and he lifts you off the dresser. He sucks on your tongue, biting on your lip when you start to pull away and you whimper at the sting of pain. 
“Thought I died, hm?” You brush back the blonde strands of hair covering his sweaty forehead and smirk. “It’s a good thing I didn’t then, hm? What would you have done? Fucked your fist for the rest of your life?” 
A muscle in his jaw feathers and he throws you down on his bed. You yelp, eyes widening at the personality change. A week ago, he would’ve been begging you for any touch, would’ve been falling apart just for one look at your dripping pussy. But now?
Now he looks like a starved animal, and you’re the first helpless creature he’s seen in weeks. 
“Eric,” you warn, watching him unbutton his shirt. “Remember what I said.” 
He eyes you, smirking at the way your jaw drops when his shirt hits the floor. It’s odd, isn’t it? You’d probably been bare in front of him countless times but you’d hardly seen him with his pants down.
“Holy fuck.” You stare at his torso, at the chiseled abs and biceps, at the veins in his arms, at the trail of hair leading down to his dick. “You’re— you’re fucking shredded.”
“Shredded?” He quirks an eyebrow, undoing his belt and the button of his pants so he can push them down and kick them to the side. “That’s the first word you thought of?”
“Well—” you clear your throat and turn your gaze away from him. “I mean— you are.”
“Cute,” He coos and crawls over you, hooking his fingers into the hem of your skirt. “May I?”
“You may,” you look at him again, then down his body and swallow hard at the sight of him. You’ve seen him many times. You’ve held him in your hand, in your mouth. You know what to expect.
So why does it make you so nervous now?
“You’re getting distracted,” Eric kisses his teeth, lowering his face to yours but not kissing you. He traces his nose across your cheek, light kisses from his lips going with it. His nose nudges against your jaw, urging you to tilt your jaw up so he can kiss you there. You do, and his lips feel like fire against your skin. “I thought you liked it when people pay attention?”
“I— I do!” You gasp out, and Eric laughs against your skin. Where the fuck is all this confidence coming from? 
“Then why aren’t you paying attention to me?” His fingers press against your sopping-wet entrance and you lift your hips in a weak attempt to get them inside of you. 
“I am!” Tears are welling in your eyes. “I am paying attention to you, Eric, please!”
He juts out his lip in a mocking pout, using the hand that’s not against your heat to wipe the tears away. 
“Okay baby,” he says softly, sinking two thick, calloused fingers into you. “Don’t cry, not yet.” 
The intrusion has you crying out and Eric does his best to hush you, to soothe you, and then he’s thrusting his fingers in and out of you at a fast pace. Your fingers cling to his shoulders, feeling the muscles tense and shift with every movement of his arm. Eric grins when your eyes finally flutter shut, when you finally give in to him. He praises you when he slips a third finger into your core, and then a fourth. He praises you as he works you through the sting, curling his fingers gently to search for the spot he knows would have you falling to pieces under him. 
Eric finds it easily and is oh so pleased by your wail of his name. He grins almost maliciously, when you begin to shake, when your body begins to thrash, and your nails dig into his shoulders and drag down his back. 
“Always so easy for me,” he hums, staring in awe at the wrinkle between your eyebrows and how your tongue practically hangs out of your mouth. When he knows you’re about to cum, he crushes his lips against yours again and begins to move his hand faster. You’re sobbing into his mouth, unable to kiss him back between your cries and moans, but Eric doesn’t mind. 
He lets you grind against his hand until you’re not shaking anymore. Then, and only then, does he pull his fingers out of you, watching with curious satisfaction as your cum drips from his fingers and onto the blanket below you. 
“Don’t— don’t sit there staring at that shit.” you hiss, but Eric just smiles. 
“So you can speak coherently now?” 
“Shut up and fuck me already, or do you need me to teach you how to do that too?” 
Eric’s gaze hardens, his tongue pushing against his cheek. You push yourself to sit up, but Eric pushes you right back down and uses his hands to push your legs apart. 
“I don’t need you to teach me anything,” he grunts, lining his member up with your entrance. 
“Really? That’s not what it looked like three weeks ag—oh fuck!” Your back arches off the bed when he suddenly sinks into you. Four fingers seem to have been just barely enough, the sting fading just as fast as it came. Or maybe you just like the pain so much it turned into pleasure. Whatever the reason, you’re quick to tell Eric to pick up the pace. 
You’re both shocked and impressed by the movement of his hips. He alternates between smooth, sharp rolls and harsh, pointed thrusts that have your body forced up the bed and the headboard knocking against the wall.
“You think I need your help?” Eric growls, digging his hands into your thighs and spreading them farther apart, lifting the lower half of your body a bit to change the angle. This brings a new pleasure to both of you. Something that you’ve never felt before, and has your mind reeling. “I didn’t need you. I wanted you. I wanted every part of you. I craved you, craved your taste. It was pure fucking luck that you wanted me too.”
“Eric,” You gasp out, sinking your teeth into the side of his neck to leave another mark on his skin. “Eric, feels so good, god it feels so good please, please don’t stop. Don’t stop, oh my god!”
“Look at you,” he yanks your head out of his neck by your hair, staring down at your fucked out face as he continues to plow into you with no remorse. “All fucked out for me. I did this. Your little virgin boy. Isn’t it embarrassing?” 
You whine in response but apparently, that isn’t what he’s looking for because he slows down at your lack of response. 
“Answer me,” he hisses.
“I— I don’t— Eric I don’t—” You don’t even know what he’s trying to ask. You stopped listening as soon as he pulled your hair, the sting of it feeling too good. Eric laughs, picking up his pace again and dropping your head back down onto his pillows. 
“What? Too fucked out to answer me? Who would’ve thought that I was the virgin and not you? What would people think if they walked in here and saw me fucking you like this?” He doesn’t expect an answer this time, not that you’d be able to give him one anyway. 
Your legs draw tightly around his slim waist, holding him close as your orgasm approaches again, but Eric doesn’t seem to be even close to cumming. Even when your second orgasm washes over you, and then your third. He fucks you through each one, sweat dripping from his hair and down his torso until his body is sliding against yours. Your body feels numb, but at the same time, you can feel everything. Every drag of his length against your walls, every punch of his tip against your cervix. Your arms curl around his neck, but your grip is loose. 
When Eric’s hips finally begin to stutter, you’re about four orgasms in, the fifth about to wash over you. Your voice is hoarse, a puddle of drool on the pillow under your head. You can’t find it in you to make any more noise, just gasping breathes and quiet whines. You cum together, and the feeling of his cum filling you has your back arching again. This time, Eric catches you and holds your body against his. He kisses you gently, uncaring that you can barely breathe let alone kiss him. 
“That— that was a good talk,” he jokes, and you say nothing at first. “Um…are— are you okay?” 
“You just—” you clear your throat, but it does nothing. “You just fucked me within an inch of my life, as a completely inexperienced virgin, and you’re asking me if I’m okay?” 
Eric frowns, settling down on top of you, but careful not to lay his full weight onto your obviously aching body. He can see the bruises he’d left all over you— on your chest, your neck, your hips. Anywhere his lips or hands touched, there was a bruise left in his wake. He imagines, however, that he looks no different. He can feel the scratches you left on his back, marring every inch of his skin and likely drawing a bit of blood, he can see a hickey on his arm that you left at some point and can imagine how the front of his body looks.
“So…so you’re not okay?” He tries and you huff, throwing an arm over your eyes. 
“Eric, I love you, but you’re such a dumbass.” You groan, shoving him off your body so you can breathe properly. “Go draw a bath. I’m gonna need one after that shit.”
“Before I do, can you answer one question?” You pry your eyes open to scowl at him and his damn puppy-like eyes. 
“What?” 
“Are we— are we dating now?” 
“We won’t be for long if you don’t get that fucking bath going.” 
“Aw, yeah!” Eric cheers, jumping off the bed and running to the bathroom to start the bath like you asked. “Guess who isn’t single anymore, Sunwoo!”
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“What’s your problem?” Haknyeon peers at Sangyeon over the lip of his mug. The frat president is glaring at you and Eric with something murderous in his eyes, which seem to have dark bags under them.
“My bedroom is right next to Eric’s.” Haknyeon raises an eyebrow, and Sangyeon clears his throat. “My bedroom is next to Eric’s.”
“Okay…oh. OH. Oh, shit man, I’m sorry.” Haknyeon turns his gaze to the two of you, grimacing at the thought of how long Sangyeon could have been kept up, but smiling when he sees how the two of you are cuddled on the couch. The grimace returns when he sees the state of your necks, neither of you having bothered to hide what you did to each other. 
“I mean,” Sunwoo sits on the counter, a bowl of cereal in his hand. “You kinda deserved it after what you did to him.”
“What the fuck— what did I do to him?” Sangyeon exclaims, and Sunwoo quirks an eyebrow. 
“You fucked your girlfriend for, what, seven rounds straight? The poor man didn’t get any sleep that night. Be glad you were able to rest after that.”
Haknyeon raises his cup, and the three frat boys return to “subtly” watching the two of you.
“Do you at least know if he was good? You know, for a virgin.”
“Oh my fucking god, Sunwoo, shut up.”
“You shut up, Hak! It was just a question!”
“You two are fucking nasty,” Sangyeon’s lip curls into a sneer, trying to block out the memories of last night. “But I’m gonna need a shit ton of bleach if I wanna forget that bullshit.”
“Hot.”
“Sunwoo, shut UP!”
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© itsbeeble. do not steal, claim, or repost.
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ad0rechuu · 3 months
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۪ ᝰ ۫ MY OH MY ୨୧
based on my oh my by girls' generation
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SYNOPSIS. ━━━━━ Yn finds out that her whole relationship has been a bet. To get over her heartache her best friend Sunwoo convinces her to take revenge.
How you might ask? By breaking the culprits heart right back of course!
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10jun23 | st. 31/12/23 / fn. ━━━━━ updates every tuesday, thursday & saturday (cet) | HIATUS
pairing. ━━━━━ Best Friend! Kim Sunwoo x Fem! reader (x Choi Yeonjun)
featuring. ━━━━━ the boyz members, kim chaewon, txt members + mentions of other idols
genre. ━━━━━ smau + written: humor/crack / fluff / angst / suggestive / childhood friends to lovers / college au / revenge relationship / relationship based on bet / slight slow burn
warnings. ━━━━━ timestamps/sm numbers/hair colors mean nothing, sexism/slutshaming, crude humor (kys jokes), mentions of food/sex/drugs/alcohol/cheating/mental illness, use of pictures of yn but only for reference, yn is a sone. more thorough warnings in the actual chapters, please let me know if missed something. this story doesn’t describe the idols in real life and is written with a dark skinned poc in mind!
notes. ━━━━━ the taglist is open, send an ask to be added. spam likes are fine but consider reblogging with comments of ur thoughts (not only on my work but on other authors work too! credits to the rightful owners of all the graphics. i’m not a native english speaker! and thank you to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer &lt;3
( please give this story lots of love & check out my masterlist )
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PROFILES. ━━━━━ SONES INCORPORATED ᜊ DA HOMIEZ ᜊ MORE COOL KIDS ᜊ THE PLAYLIST
STEP 1. GET OVER HIM ›
ᝰ CH 000. prologue: THE NEXT BET
ᝰ CH 001. I H8 MEN
ᝰ CH 002. DON’T BREAK UP WITH THAT LOSER
ᝰ CH 003. THE PLAN
ᝰ CH 004. WHAT COULD GO WRONG?
ᝰ CH 005. *INSERT EVIL LAUGHTER*
ᝰ CH 006. ANNOYING BRAT FOR SALE
ᝰ CH 007. DON'T WORRY YOUR PRETTY BIG HEAD
ᝰ CH 008. NOT OVER HIM
ᝰ CH 009. CLASSIC SUNWOO-YN-BFF-DATE
ᝰ CH 010. THE NERVE AND THE AUDACITY
STEP 2. MAKE HIM FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU ›
ᝰ CH 011. STEP UP MY GAME
ᝰ CH 012. SASSY CAT EMOJI
ᝰ CH 013. A NIGHT ON THE TOWN W/ YN & WOO
ᝰ CH 014. GOOD NIGHT
ᝰ CH 015. HOBBIES FOR SUNWOO
ᝰ CH 016. GRAND DISCOVERY (YN HAS AN IDEA)
ᝰ CH 017. JUNS UNAPPROACHABLE AND COLD GF
ᝰ CH 018. HANGING OUT WITH MY BFS FRIENDS
ᝰ CH 019. BE HONEST WITH YOURSELF
ᝰ CH 020. DON’T WORRY ABOUT ME
STEP 3. BREAK HIS HEART ›
ᝰ CH 021. CODE ORANGE
ᝰ CH 022. I FUCKED UP
ᝰ CH 023. HITCH IN THE ROAD
ᝰ CH 024. CONSIDER AND MAKE SURE
ᝰ CH 025. WHAT MAKES THE HEART GROW WHAT?
ᝰ CH 026. BALLOON FLOWERS
ᝰ CH 027. REJECTION + ANEURYSM = WENT WELL
ᝰ CH 028. MAKEUP
ᝰ CH 029. BALLOON FLOWERS VERSUS ROSES
ᝰ CH 030. COMING SOON
ᝰ CH 00I. epilogue: COMING SOON
ᝰ CH 0II. epilogue: COMING SOON
ᝰ CH III. ASK THEM ANYTHING EVENT
ᝰ AFTER WORD
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special thanks (& follow these awesome ppl). ━━━━━ to @yuyusuyu @kodzumo @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @seonghwaddict @felixsramen : i have to give you six an extra special thanks because you all motivated and supported me so much while i was stressing and being annoying, just so you know guys are my motivation! (the other message is also to you all ofc)
and to @yunstarz @nyukyujs @rieuvie @thelargefrye @i-luvsang @cybrsan @gyumibear @pocketjoong @jaehunnyy @nebulousbrainsoup @justhere4kpop @xpixie @atinycafe @brrrkdslek @phantom-webber @a1sh1teruu @starryunho @aestheticsluut @end0rchans @yourfatherlucifer @alixnsuperstxr @girls4cheol @cheollipop @mintgki @aoi-turtle @renstears @42e15 @alixnsuperstxr @mrowwww @hwaightme @paradiqms @starrysvn @tubatu-wari-wari @kitten4sannie @chokchokk @hee0soo @joong-of-gold @armysantiny @evilsailorsenshi @mundayoonimnida @aapplepii @juhakutie : first of all i don’t expect you to read or interact with this fic, you might not even stan the boyz or like this sorta thing but i tagged you all because of one reason and one reason only; to tell you that you all make tumblr such a lovely and inspirational place for me, whenever i see ur accs it brightens my day because i know what great ppl are behind them, i just wanted to say that i think that you are amazing and i want to use this post to thank you! happy new years and i love you everyone (and you who’s reading this)
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my oh my © ad0rechuu, 2023. do not copy/repost.
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ericscroptop · 2 months
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Wet Dreams
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✧ pairing: eric sohn x mid-size/chubby fem! reader
✦ genre: friends to lovers + smut
✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) smut, kissing, cursing, slight angst, inexperienced reader, hand job, male receiving, lots of spit, fondling, praising/praise kink, pet names, talk of insecurities, body issues, internalized fat phobia, etc., pls be cautious because i know it can be a sensitive topic for some!
✦ word count: 9.3k words (LMAOOOO)
✧ synopsis: your friend eric invites you over to his house for a swim and it is then that you realize eric wants you in ways you would’ve never imagined for yourself.
✦ note: this fic is kinda self indulgent—written as someone who is mid-size/chubby and has insecurities. i just want people who have a chubbier/thicker/fat body to feel loved and be included explicitly in writings because we are all deserving of love and affection!
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
You hated swimming.
Well—okay, so you didn’t actually hate swimming.
Your disinterest for the activity was not rooted in swimming itself, but for the fact that you’d have to wear some sort of bikini in order to swim.
Technically, there wasn’t a law that said you had to wear a bikini to the beach or the pool. There are plenty of people who happily choose to wear something like a t-shirt or cover-up that’s more generous while swimming for whatever reason.
There are also a plethora of bathing suits that exist, so there’s gotta be one that you feel comfortable in, right?
The thing is, you plainly felt insecure in showing skin. You were insecure of your arms that seemed to carry excess fat that was especially visible when you moved them. Your belly hung low and it honestly was more plump than your behind. You also had skin-colored stretch marks that decorated your lower back that never seemed to go away.
These were things about you that you constantly dwelled on no matter what. You couldn’t recall a day where the topic of your body didn’t flood your mind.
You had no problem in people showing skin at all. At the end of the day, the problem was simply your lack of confidence due to society’s beauty standards that have been shoved in your face, pressed into your mind, and flooded your ears for as long as you could remember.
Though today, you were attempting at conquering your insecurities and finally stepping out of your comfort zone.
It was scorching in L.A. today. It was too hot to go out but also too hot to just rot in your home all day. Even with air conditioning, you just felt nasty.
Your friend Eric invited you to come to his house for a nightly swim. A wave of anxiety hit you when you had read his text of the invitation. First of all, he was a guy—of which, you found insanely attractive.
He was a friend that you made in your Sociology course. You remembered how he randomly approached you one day to ask a question mid-semester about something that he could’ve easily found the answer to if he looked back at the syllabus.
Though, you were happy to help anyone who needed it and answered him nicely. Or maybe it was merely because he was probably the prettiest boy you had ever laid eyes on that actually approached you, so you didn’t think twice to reply to him—but you would never let anyone know that. He was appreciative, and since then, he decided to cling onto you since you showed him courtesy.
You honestly thought he would’ve forgotten about your presence or only come to you when he needed help, but he actually started sitting with you and even distracting you with mindless but entertaining conversations during lectures.
While you started looking forward to coming into class and now having someone to talk to, your only interest in the class became the charming guy who was energetic and always made you smile from ear to ear. You eventually told Eric that you needed to prioritize your lectures and cut back on the excessive side conversations during class. He decided to take that as an opportunity to ask for your number, so you guys could hangout outside the classroom.
You were shocked that he wanted to be your friend. You didn’t feel as charming or alluring as he was, but he still found interest in you. You guys started hanging out and doing things like studying (or trying to at least) and doing miscellaneous activities at least once a week.
He became your best friend all of a sudden. You were super grateful that he came into your life, but you still felt nervous around him. He was such a good guy. You didn’t want to take your friendship for granted.
Eric was also super outgoing and friendly, while you were more reserved and it was rare for you to make new friends and be spontaneous. Sometimes, you still wonder why he decided to become your friend.
Maybe you felt this way due to your insecurities, or maybe it was because you had this lingering feeling of butterflies in your stomach every time you guys were together. Maybe it was a mixture of both.
Anyways, for whatever the reason, you just tried to be a good friend to the guy. You didn’t want to fuck anything up and so you tried your best to please Eric and not be a burden in any way.
Now, you find yourself looking at your reflection in the mirror of Eric’s guest bathroom. You tug on your favorite oversized Spongebob shirt that you own, pulling it to where it ends just below your bottom. You were getting ready to finally swim, and Eric was already out by the pool waiting while you freshen up and change.
You sighed at your reflection with both of your hands placed against your hips, wondering why the fuck you’re feeling so uneasy.
You actually surprised yourself by deciding to wear a bikini for tonight. You purchased one awhile back just for the heck of it, even if you never mustered up the courage to wear it. The bikini was high-waisted and red with a twist front on the bottoms. The bikini top was also red and a wireless bra. It was actually super comfortable against your skin and red was a striking color, but all you saw in the mirror was your plump stomach screaming at you to be covered, and your cleavage just wasn’t elevated enough to your liking. Your arms were also bothering you, as you could only focus on the excess fat that was noticeable as you moved them. You probably were gonna look like a whale next to Eric and the thought made you uncomfortable mixed with embarrassed.
So that’s why you brought a t-shirt to swim in just incase you chickened out. There’s nothing wrong with having a shirt on in the pool. I mean, it’s normal! Though, you couldn’t help but feel ashamed that you felt like shielding yourself and not letting yourself wear that bikini freely. It was only going to be you two together, so why were you making it so complicated?
“Fucking hell,” you sharply inhaled and let out a heavy sigh. You stared deeply into the mirror one last time, picking at your skin as you had no makeup on. Another thing you felt insecure about. You always had makeup on around Eric, but this time you didn’t for obvious reasons. “Ugh, whatever,” you groaned out before finally leaving the bathroom, fed up with all this negativity you felt towards yourself.
I mean, why did you care so fucking much? You knew deep down that Eric would never judge you. Any normal person wouldn’t think so hard about going for a swim. This is a casual activity, why were you overthinking it?
You walked through Eric’s massive house towards his patio. You already knew the ropes around his house, since this wasn’t your first time here. Though, you had only been here for things like baking brownies on Friday nights and playing Super Mario Party on the Nintendo Switch, not for using the pool.
You reached the glass sliding door that opened the patio and led yourself outside. His patio lights were on, illuminating his backyard so that it wasn’t completely dark out. You spotted Eric sitting on one of the pool chairs, mindlessly scrolling through Instagram reels obnoxiously loud on his phone. He seemed to be passing time while waiting for you before he got into the pool.
“Hey, you.” You made your way over to where he was sitting with a smile on your face.
Eric perked up at the sound of your voice and abandoned his phone, twisting his body towards you. “Finally! I was seriously about to call you to ask what’s taking so long.” Eric mimicked your smile and adjusted his arms to where they were now leaning back behind him.
You felt a flush of heat wave over your body, not due to the humid summer night, but due to Eric’s appearance. His hair has been permed for a while now and you just can’t help but admire how good he looks in curly hair. His dark brown curls complemented his naturally tanned-skin so well. He’s also already shirtless, in nothing but a pair of blue swim shorts and a chain adorning his neck. He also had a cute bracelet around his wrist and small hoops that dangled from his ears as they always did. Every detail of him just looked so beautiful to you.
You mentally slap yourself for gawking at your best friend. You scoffed in response, “I don’t doubt that you would’ve.”
He chuckles as he rises from his chair, brows furrowing in confusion as his eyes run down the length of your body. “I thought you were changing into your bathing suit?” he asked curiously.
The tips of your ears go hot as he questions. You stare at him like a deer in headlights, fingers going down to fidget with the tips of your hair.
“Oh yeah, I just didn’t like how it looked at me.” you shyly admitted. You couldn’t lie to Eric over small matters. Even if you were embarrassed, you still felt complied to always be honest when he asks you something. Though, it was hard to have deep conversations with Eric because he was a guy—of which, you possibly have a small crush on. This was all new to you and you were still learning on how to navigate your friendship.
“Why?” he simply asked, staring at you, eyes full of concern. You bit your lip as he looked at you, your body starting to get a little tense.
“I dunno, I just am not used to wearing a swimsuit,” you shrugged. “I actually don’t go swimming often so I’m not used to wearing one. I typically would just wear a shirt like I am now.” You rubbed your left foot against your right ankle as you spoke, starting to feel awkward in having this conversation.
“Oh,” was all Eric said, starting to frown a bit but quickly shook his head and crossed his arms. “You know, I don’t care what you wear as long as it makes you comfortable, but right now, it’s just you and me here,” he subtly smiles. “We’re gonna be in the water having fun and cooling off. I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but you’re safe around me.” Eric reassures you and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
You half smile while looking down at your feet. “I know,” you simply agreed.
You suddenly look up at the feeling of his dominant hand now on your left shoulder, patting it reassuringly. “Y/n, you don’t have to be shy in front of me. We’re good friends, let’s be comfortable with each other, yeah?” His eyes were full of tenderness as you met his gaze. You pouted your lips playfully in attempt to not get sappy at his words.
He was right though. You just want to have fun and you’re letting your insecurities get the best of you. You know Eric isn’t an asshole. He never judges anyone’s appearance and you know he’s a sweetheart.
You nod your head as you take in his words. “Thanks Eric, really.” your face flushed as he shook his head.
“You don’t need to thank me. I know people wear shirts in the pool but when I picked you up earlier, you said you brought a swimsuit, so i figured you wanted to wear it. You don’t have to feel shy.”
He licks his lips and pauses for a moment before continuing, “You always look good.” Eric rubbed the back of his neck and shyly looked to the side as his voice faltered uttering that last part. Your lips parted slightly as you processed that compliment. The corner of your lips then curled upwards and you let out a soft chuckle.
“Okay, I guess you’ve convinced me. It’s just us, right?” you said rhetorically, sighing deeply. I mean, you were mainly going to be in the water anyways, so why trip over this?
Eric smiles seeing you finally deciding to remove your t-shirt, allowing your bikini to be worn properly. You toss the shirt onto the chair he was sitting at, and adjust your bathing suit top’s straps. He timidly looks away as you do, grabbing his phone to connect it to his speaker to play some music while you guys swim.
You start moving towards the pool, ready to finally do what you came here to do and allow yourself to enjoy this time. Eric looks back up at you dancing to the song he put on while making way into the pool, your locks of hair twirling around your back with each step. His gaze then ‘accidentally’wanders down to your red bottoms, his cheeks flushing once realizing he’s checking you out.
‘Oh wow,’ he thinks to himself as he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment to tame his thoughts, rubbing his lips against each other. He then hears you call out to him that the water feels good and to come join him.
Eric puts his phone down and looks at you, your form hidden underneath water, splashing and gleaming as your body felt more relaxed now.
“I’m coming!” He shouts before he starts running towards your direction. You start grinning at his words because you have a dirty ass mind, but it immediately falters once you realize he’s gonna cannonball. Your brows knitted as he made way closer, both hands shielding your face and eyes closed once he plunges into the pool, creating splashes of waves in your direction.
“Eric!” you playfully scold him for of course having to jump into the pool like a maniac. You rub your face after the splashes drenched your face and hair, tucking your hair back behind your ears, sucking in a breath. Eric emerges from beneath the water breathing heavily, laughing as he sticks his tongue out, grazing it over the corner of his lip.
“You’re such a guy.” you scoff at him, rolling your eyes. Eric raises a brow and then begins to splash more water your way. “I’m only having fun!” Eric raises both hands from his sides, gesturing to the pool and cheekily smiling at you as he shakes his head gently.
———————————————————————————
You two swam for about an hour. You guys tossed a beach ball for awhile, chatted about old gossip you always brought up when together, and even played mermaids upon your request—to which created plenty of laughter on your part seeing Eric take his role very seriously for awhile.
He then pleaded for you guys to race—which you initially declined, having no interest. He pouted at your disinterest, but started racing anyways. Water splashed all over your face for the nth time as he swam to the opposite end of the pool, leaving you behind sulking and rolling your eyes.
“I’m getting out!” you yelled and lifted yourself out the pool. Eric continued racing himself as you walked away to grab some towels nearby for the both of you. Once he made it to the end, he let out a sigh at your lack of desire to race. He clearly wanted to spend more time together in the water, but you were all tired out.
He sees your figure loosely drying your hair, and makes his way out the pool towards you. You met his gaze and nodded your head towards a towel you laid out for him. He silently thanked you and began drying himself, then wrapping it around his waist.
You ditched the now-damp towel you used for your hair and wrapped a fresh one around your figure, almost like a blanket. You both sat down together on one of the long pool chairs, soaking in the night while letting the air dry you guys some more.
“Do you wanna order some food? I’m really hungry,” Eric turns to look at you, your eyes meeting his at the sound of his voice.
“Yeah, before my stomach starts growling,” you chuckle as Eric smiles.
“Does pizza sound good? The usual, right?” Eric asks even though he’s already looking through his contacts, searching for the number of a local pizza place that has become a regular for you guys.
“Yes, please.” You cuddle into your towel as Eric calls the number, the pizza place answering after two rings.
He began ordering you guy’s usual and you can’t help but stare at him while he talks on the phone. His curly hair is wettish from all the swimming, some of the curls falling past his forehead. Every so often he’d toss his head a little to shake the hanging curls away from his eyes.
You just couldn’t help but admire how fine your best friend was. It was a crime that he walked around looking like a god. The jawline he had could probably leave a cut on your skin if you brushed against it with how defined it was. His side profile was beyond alluring and would make you double take when passing a glance. His beautiful, bronzed skin made him look so godly.
And he even had such a nice body. Eric frequented the gym, and his abs and muscles were definitely proof of that. He was proud of his body, and did his best to keep his prominent muscle’s defined by working on himself consistently. He was dripping with good looks.
Eric ends the call eventually and you’re ripped away from your wandering thoughts, crushing hard over your best friend.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Eric speaks in a playful tone, meeting your gaze after putting his phone down.
You awkwardly begin to laugh, “Just about how hungry I am.” you obviously lie.
Eric cocks his head and shoots you a grin, “You were staring at me, though.”
Your teeth began to tug on your bottom lip, before letting out another nervous laugh as you looked to the side.
“Well, I guess I was just waiting for you to finish ordering,” you replied nonchalantly, making a weak attempt at putting on a poker face even though you’ve already failed.
“You love spending time with me, huh? Can’t get enough of me?” Eric playfully hits your arm with his elbow, causing an ‘ow’ to escape your lips even though it barely hurt.
“Why do you always have to be such a tease?” you wrinkled your nose in question.
“Cause’ I like you,” Eric casually admits like nothing, his eyes having been scanning over your face this whole time since having ended the call.
Your lips parted as you blinked harshly, eventually letting free a forced laugh and your face forms a lopsided grimace.
“Can you be serious right now?” you scratched your head as you looked at Eric.
“I am.” Eric spoke softly, losing the playful tone completely.
He felt like he was gonna explode at his random confession. What you thought was harmless teasing was him actually flirting and him having romantic interest in you. You guys started out as friends but as time went on, he fell for you. After all the conversations and hangouts, he got to know you better and even from the first day, he thought you were such a pretty girl.
Though, he didn’t know when the proper time to confess was or if he even wanted to. You guys have such a solid friendship, and it seemed like you were fine with your stance.
Then again, you were very timid, so you often held back any talk involving feelings—at least with him. You weren’t the type to open up first. He usually had to question you to get an answer out of you—as much as you were willing to say, anyways.
“Like… as friends, right?” Confusion flooded your face as you hadn’t a clue of where he was going with this.
“Yeah, but… what if I said I meant it as more than that?” Eric had this hope-filled look clouding his face. He looked at you anticipating that you felt the same. Even at his random confession, he hopes that you can see how serious he is. That he didn’t just fuck up your friendship by making things weird and that you get the hint that he wants to be more with you.
“Okay, this is not funny. Literally, what are you going on about?” you scoffed and shook your head. You honestly couldn’t believe what he was alluding to. It just can’t be. No way in hell is Eric Sohn admitting that he likes you in that way. No damn way.
“I would never in my fucking life joke about something like this, Y/n. I know this is out of no where—hell, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to tell you because I already appreciate what I have with you,” Eric sucked in a breath before continuing. “But I selfishly want to be more. After all this time together, I just can’t help but want to be able to hold you and call you my girlfriend every time I am around you.”
“I… I honestly think i’ve fallen in love with you.” Eric breathed out and swallowed hard as he looked at your now incredulous expression, his own eyes widening as he realized what he just said. Your mouth’s open in shock as you blinked excessively, trying to blink away at your now moist eyes.
“With me?” you laughed harshly at him and Eric’s lips turned down. “I think you’re mistaken,” your gaze shifted towards your feet as you continued. “You cannot love me in that way. I’m just… not perfect.” You’re in utter disbelief. You were way too insecure for your own good.
Of course you fucking loved him back. You tried to ignore it for so long, your stupid little crush on someone you accepted you couldn’t have because you felt that he was way out of your league and your status remained as just friends. He only saw you as a friend, you thought.
You were you and he was Eric fucking Sohn. He was on the baseball team, athletic, a gym rat, popular, out going, a sweetheart, and hot.
While you in comparison, stayed home most days you had zero obligations, barely had any hobbies, and had like 3 friends.
You felt unloveable because of how insecure you were. You didn’t think someone like you was capable of having romantic feelings reciprocated. You felt unworthy. Eric could easily bag an L.A. model if he wanted to. So why the fuck is he here saying he wants to be with you?
Eric blankly stares at you for a moment. His face has gone pale and he feels his throat getting tight. He’s trying to process what you have said. Where is all this coming from?
“You’re perfect to me.” Eric reaches out for your hand and you get goosebumps at the action. Your eyes shift to where your hand is now in his, his thumb stroking your skin gently.
“Eric…” you barely whisper before removing your hand from his hold, looking away and missing the sadness in his eyes at the loss of contact and rejection.
“You cannot be with someone like me… I mean, look at me and then look at you! You are fucking amazing, Eric,” you finally look at him to gesture your right hand at his figure. “You could have anyone in this world and you’re trying to tell me that you’re in love with me? Have you seen me?”
Tears well up in your eyes as you remove the towel you had draped around you from your body. Your fingers roam around your stomach and you harshly pull at your love handles. “This can’t be what you’re attracted to,” you swallow hard, feeling so vulnerable right now.
You felt ugly. Society has told you that you needed to lose weight to be loved. You needed to be slim or appear a certain way in order for everyone to be kind and pay any mind to you. Not many people bothered to get to know you. Even though Eric has been your friend for a while now, you still find it hard to believe someone as handsome as him wanted to be around someone like you.
No guy ever showed any desire in wanting to be with you romantically or physically, or even as a friend. All your friends with ease had people lining up to be with them and you felt so lonely—so unwanted.
Your whole existence, you’ve always felt unworthy and everyone’s last choice. You felt like something was wrong with you and you’ve sorted accepted it.
Eric sat in silence as he took in your words. He had no idea you felt this deeply about yourself, how you saw yourself in a negative light. He thinks back to when you came out in your shirt and said how you weren’t feeling yourself in your bikini which prompted you to come out covered. You were self conscious. He looked at you with distraught and teary eyes. He was heartbroken to hear you think so lowly of yourself when in his eyes, you were practically Aphrodite mixed with an angel.
“Y/n, I didn’t know you felt this way,” Eric’s eyes softened as you looked down to the concrete, feeling ashamed and embarrassed of yourself right now.
“I’m sorry if anyone has ever made you feel unworthy or uncomfortable to live as yourself. I’m sorry that you cannot see the beauty in yourself,” Eric choked out.
“But I promise you, that you are so beyond beautiful inside and out,” he licked his lips and shook his head. “You don’t understand how beautiful you are. How much I enjoy spending time with you. Why do you think I insist we hangout at least once a week?”
Eric lets out a chuckle which prompts you to look up at him. “After every hangout, or even after every class we had together, I was already longing for the next time we’d see each other. I’ve been desperate for you… you consume my thoughts, Y/n.”
Your face turns crimson as he says all this to you, processing his every word. It did begin to make sense. He’s the one who asked for your number first. He always invites you over to his home. He actually seems to care about you. You chew on your lip at the realization. You were so caught up in your own self consciousness.
You never have imagined that someone could love you in this way in reality.
Eric notices you begin to soften up a bit and his lips curl upwards, “I like that you can handle my silly antics and loudness, and always laugh instead of seriously being annoyed. I like that you have such a kind heart, and are always willing to make time for others—even if that means sacrificing your own obligations and time.” Eric looked at you in adoration, like a puppy in love. You have to admit, your heart swells at his words, and it brings a slight smile to your face.
“Oh come on, you’re so cheesy.” you playfully slap Eric’s hand as you sniffle.
He bites his lower lip and rubs his chin before continuing, “I also like when you have your hair up in a ponytail and leave two strands out on either side. I don’t see you with your hair up often, so I get excited when you do have it up.” You grab a piece of your hair and begin to play with it, face flushed as he keeps going.
“And,” he pauses for a brief moment, blushing as he whispers the next part. “I like it when I see you and I can tell you’re not wearing a bra.”
You drop the strand of hair and look at him with wide eyes, face full of sudden shock. Are you hearing correctly?
“Your nipples are always so hard, baby,” he chuckles as his gaze moves towards your chest.
“Even now, I can see them poking through,” he nods his head at your breasts. You look down and move your hands onto your chest, feeling your nipples through the top. You glance back up at Eric, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.
“Was that cheesy, too?” he questions, tilting his head to the side, shit eating grin smothering his face.
“Eric!” you scold the boy and mischievously hit his arm for suddenly admitting he stares at your breasts often. Though, your thighs instinctively press together at his lewd words, face still crimson.
Your best friend has admitted all these things to you. He sees you the way you see him, and it all feels like a hallucination. You usually feel so insecure, but he sees you like gold. You’re nothing but stunned right now.
Eric laughs as he wraps an arm around you, making you shiver at the sudden contact.
His hand reaches over your shoulder, accidentally brushing over close to your breast, resulting in you jolting at the sudden action as you felt sensitive to the touch.
Eric immediately removes his hand and leans back. “Shit, sorry!” he doesn’t hesitate to say. He’s embarrassed at his attempt in being smooth. He doesn’t want to scare you off.
“It’s fine,” you shyly speak. You have to admit, you were getting a bit turned on. After him showering you in compliments and confessions, you were now slowly accepting that he actually does want you in the same way you’ve fantasized over him.
Not only does he seem to like you for your personality, but also physically.
“No it’s not. I don’t know why I thought touching you like that without permission was okay. You’re still vulnerable,” Eric feels guilty and moves his eyes to look away from you in embarrassment. You haven’t even responded on whether or not you accept his feelings. I mean, you seem fine now.
Of course your insecurities won’t disappear overnight, but you looked more relaxed. He just hopes you don’t feel the need to shy away from him anymore.
“Eric…” you softly speak. He looks up at you curiously, humming as your eyes are already on him, looking at him softheartedly.
“I love you, too.” you murmur tenderly.
Eric’s heart suddenly starts beating fast. He adjusts his posture and a smile creeps up to his face as he registers your words for a moment.
“Are you serious?” he looks at you excitedly with flashing eyes.
“One thousand percent,” you gain the confidence to reach over to run your thumb along his cheek, taking your time to caress him. Eric feels the hair on his skin begin to stand up as you touch him intimately. His eyes shut as you take in his face, feeling it for the first time.
You smile at how cute he looks, softening under just the touch of your thumb.
“I’ll be yours if you’ll have me.” Eric states, his eyes opening to look at your own glistening ones. His face leans into your touch, feeling so good that you’re finally embracing him like this.
“Of course I’ll be your girlfriend,” you look up at him lovingly.
His heart swells at this moment. The moment he’s been longing for, where he can finally call you his.
Eric is going to make sure you feel loved every second of the day from now on.
He removes your hand from his face and holds it gently within his own. With his other hand, it is now his turn to stroke your face with his warm palm. You swallow as you feel yourself melting like ice at his hot touch.
Eric is so close to you, yet so far. You have him now, so that means you can do all the things you’ve longed for with him.
“I want you to k—kiss me,” you suddenly blurt out, gaining trust to do so.
Eric pauses his delicate stroke’s against your cheek, and looks at you in surprise.
“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” you shyly admitted. You fluttered your eyelashes at him and stared at him pleadingly. “Please teach me, Eric.”
Eric swears he feels his dick twitch at your eagerness. With a simple sentence, his brain feels like it’s on fire. Oh how he’s longed to kiss your pink lips for what seems like forever.
Your innocence is cute, he thinks. How you’re willing to open up to him like this. How you are allowing yourself to let him love you in this way.
“You’re so precious,” Eric breathes out as he begins caressing your cheek again. You look at his eyes that carry a sense of longing as he scans your face, soaking up your features.
“We can take it slow,” Eric murmurs and you nod.
Eric’s thumb moves to your bottom lip, tracing the lines and feeling how plump it is. Your palms began to sweat in anticipation, and your heart rate increases at the build up.
Your eyes are open still, watching him curiously as he grazes his thumb over your lower lip gently, which makes his own heart flood in an ocean of warmth.
Eric’s thumb drops and his dominant hand moves to gently cup your jaw. His other hand pulls you closer against his chest, hand now resting on your side. You slightly shiver at his touch, fingers dancing over your love handles.
“You can touch me too, baby,” Eric nods at you, seeing you’re a bit tense and don’t really know what to do even though you so desperately want to feel his lips on yours already.
You hesitantly place your hand over his chest, rubbing the area carefully. Your fingers graze over his nipple and his eyes immediately shut at the feeling. He inhales sharply at your movements, and you can’t help but chuckle seeing him affected like this just by your touch.
Your other hand rests on the back of his neck along the nape, beginning to tangle your fingers in his curls and it feels like home for the both of you.
You don’t know what to do next, so you just continue combing through his hair. Though, you finally close your eyes, signaling to him that you’re ready for a kiss.
Eric’s lips curl upwards at how cute this is—you waiting for him to take the lead. He finds you very endearing like this.
He caresses your side as he slowly pulls your jaw close. Your lips separate faintly while he does so, awaiting for your lips to meet.
His eyes shut as he captures your bottom lip within his lips. He tilts your head ever so slightly so that you don’t bump noses, and your fingers messily fidget with the nape of his neck as he gently sucked your balmy lip.
Eric’s lips against yours feels electric. You allow him to guide you and you slowly get the hang of it, you soon after kissing him back. The kiss feels so magical. The feeling of his lips against yours sends sparks all throughout your body. You feel as with every movement his lips make against yours, you’re bound to explode like a firework at the passionate sensation.
You lose yourself in his lips, his hands soothing your body in the process, and nothing else matters except for Eric Sohn kissing you.
He pulls back for a moment, and you both stare at each other in awe at what you’ve shared. Eric suddenly lifts his rear off the chair for a bit, removing the towel he had wrapped around his waist and tosses it on the ground. He then decides to pull you over his lap, seating you on top of him with your legs wrapped around him. Your mouth opens agape at the action, your hands moving to his shoulders to steady yourself.
“Am I not too heavy for this?” you cringe, feeling like you can’t even be in this position for a second before it gets uncomfortable for Eric’s hold.
“Nonsense—you fit perfectly, baby,” Eric says. He spreads his legs a bit to make it more comfortable for you.
His hand rests on your back, fingers rubbing it soothly. His fingers trace the valleys of your stretch marks that decorate your lower back, and he smiles at the feeling of your skin.
“S’ gorgeous.” he murmurs, your cheeks heat up in response. Eric’s lips lean in to press against your pink cheeks, leaving tender, wet kisses all over your face. “You’re such a pretty girl.” he announces as you giggle at his affection towards you.
You crave for his lips on you again, so you take the risk of moving to glide your tongue over his bottom lip, begging to be invited in his mouth for seconds. A groan of satisfaction vibrates through Eric’s chest and he lets you in. Your tongues greet each other as your lips enveloped. A moan escapes your throat at feeling the wetness of his tongue against your own. You’ve suddenly lost your inhibitions after hearing all of Eric’s praises and tasting his pillowy lips. This kiss was sensual, becoming all hot and breathy in desire for one another.
Eric’s teeth gently graze over your bottom lip and you can’t help but move your body from the pleasure, resulting in you grinding down on Eric’s lap.
You pull back for a breath and your heart misses a beat as you feel something hard press against the fabric of your bottoms. You gasp at the foreign feeling.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” Eric breathes out and goes to pet your hair. “We can stop if you want, just tell me,” Eric says, face turning red.
One of your hands moves to fiddle around his neck, admiring the chain that rested against his collarbones. You bat your eyelashes as you rub yourself against Eric’s crotch again, eliciting a deep groan out of him, his eyes drawn shut from your actions. You bite your lip at the stimulation it brought to your core. There’s a strange feeling growing in the pit of your stomach. This was all new to you, so it was very thrilling.
You lean over his neck and tenderly begin peppering kisses all over, his hips bucking up at the feeling of your mouth on his sweet spot.
“Mhm,” you whimper at the friction of his bulge against your core, which captivates Eric. The sound of your pretty moans and the way your body responds to him has blood rushing straight to his cock.
“What are you doing, princess?” Eric gently pulls you back from his neck, looking at your desperate eyes with his own, wetting his lips with his tongue.
You continue to rub your core against his crotch as he introduces that nickname. Your arms wrap around his neck and your fingers get lost in his curls once again.
“You like when I call you that, huh?” Eric nods his head at you, smirk prevalent on his face.
You whine at his teasing, hiding your face in his neck. “Eric…” you announce.
“Hm?” he hums, rubbing your back soothingly.
You pull back from his neck to look at him. He presses his lips together as you bashfully look at him. Your lips part in wanting to say something, but you hesitate in doing so, moving your gaze away from his own.
“What is it, baby?” Eric coos as he cups your jaw. “You can tell me,” he encourages you since you’ve suddenly gone shy.
“I— I want to taste you, Eric.” you practically whisper to him.
He chuckles, “You want more kisses?”
He sees you cutely furrow your brows with lips slightly pouted, gently shaking your head. “I don’t mean like that. I mean like… let me help you out,” with heavy lidded eyes, you gesture towards his manhood.
Eric’s lips gape slightly as it registers what you’re saying. He cannot believe what he’s hearing. You have no experience and yet you’re beyond eager. You’re so needy for him and it is fucking turning him on. He could probably cum right now in his swim shorts just from the kissing and grinding.
But, he doesn’t want you to rush into things so suddenly in the heat of the moment. He wants your first’s to be perfect. Even if you guys knew inside that you trust one another, he still wants to be sure.
“Y/n, let me take you on a date first at least, hm?” Eric rubs your thigh gingerly. “I don’t want you to do anything just because i’m hard right now. We can wait until you’re ready,” Eric softly smiles.
You’re still pouting, and let out a huff of frustration at his words. “I just want to taste it.” you whine out while your hips rut down into his, which draws a moan out of Eric, his fingers pressing deeply into your thigh in response. You sigh at the feeling.
“I’ve dreamed about giving you head since I met you,” you confess as you continue, drunk off the feeling of his cock through the thin pieces of fabric. “I promise I want to, Eric. It’s all I want to do tonight. We don’t have to go further than that—it’s what i’m comfortable with for now. We can save all the other stuff for another time. But right now, I just wanna please you if you’ll let me,” you babble, giving him pleading eyes and he see’s how bad you want it.
He wonders what happened to you being coy not that long ago—not that he’s complaining or anything, but you’re now feening over him. This feels like a dream. You wanted to please him so bad and he just could never say no to you, not in a million years.
He would be a fool to turn you down.
He lets out a deep sigh and tsks, his hands snaking around to grip your hips to keep you steady. “Okay, princess. I’d hate to ever say no to you,” Eric goes to chase your lips, sealing the deal. The kiss has you mewling into his mouth and he gulps hard at your noise.
You pull back from his lips and go to leave a tender kiss on the corner before he helps you get off his lap. You stand up as he stays seated, curiously watching your movements. You crouch down and your hands are on the towel Eric tossed earlier, starting to spread it neatly on the ground so your knees can rest over it.
“Here?” Eric questions as you get on your knees and your eyes lock. He bites back a groan as he has to now look down to meet your eyes, seeing you on the ground all submissive on your knees with your cleavage perfectly on display. It has him screaming internally.
“Yeah,” you say as you begin to stroke Eric’s knee. “I’m too impatient to go inside.”
Eric laughs and bends forward to press a kiss on your forehead, your nose scrunching cutely as his lips make contact against your skin. His hands then goes to cup your cheeks. “I’ll be as gentle as possible and guide you if you need it. Just tap my thighs or tell me if you want to stop. Okay, baby?”
“Okay,” you say and nod your head. Eric’s lips give you one last kiss on the corner of your mouth, and he lets you go.
You swallow hard, mentally questioning yourself on how you want to go about this. Eric watches you, smirking as he can practically see the wheels turn on your head. He’ll guide you, but only if he see’s you struggling or if you ask for it. He wants to see what you can do, since you seem to be so eager for his cock.
You begin by inching a bit closer to his crotch, just between his knees. Your hands move to touch his abdomen, running your fingers along the defined lines of his abs. Your lips pucker up as you press hot kisses along his stomach, appreciating how beautiful Eric’s build was. Eric’s dominant hand goes to rest in your locks, massaging your scalp as you kiss his tummy.
“You like my body, baby?” a smug look is present on Eric’s face as he says so.
“You’re beautiful,” you breathe out shamelessly, pausing when you’ve gotten closer to the skin just below his belly button.
You soon remove yourself and he lets his hand fall while your hands move to the waistband of his swim shorts. You play with the fabric a bit in nervousness, still figuring out how you’re going to approach this sensual act and wondering if Eric will be satisfied with your performance.
You finally tug his shorts down and fully off. His cock then immediately flops up against his abdomen, slapping the skin.
You gasp at first sight of his cock. It’s pretty lengthy and fat, erect with precum residing on his tip. You gulped as Eric’s right hand moves over to his shaft, beginning to stroke himself as he nibbles on his bottom lip. With pursed lips you look at him, feeling tingly and flushed all over as he makes eye contact with you while he touches himself.
“You wanna touch it?” Eric raises a brow as he slicks his cock in his wetness. You’re salivating at the sight of his naked form playing with himself. He looks so pretty on display like this for you.
He lets go of himself and you finally start to test the waters, hesitantly grabbing the base of his cock and stroking the skin. Eric hisses once he feels your small hand over his base. “Fuck, baby.”
You bite back a smile at his reaction and you start to give the tip kitten licks while rubbing the underside of his cock with your thumb. The taste of his precum lands on your tongue, causing Eric to purr in pleasure.
“Starting off as such a tease.” he mumbles while his legs instinctively spread to give you more room and his left arm goes behind the back of his neck and head, giving you a perfect view of the little sailboat and paw print tattoos that decorate his bicep. So fucking hot, you think to yourself.
You experimentally press your tongue along the underside of his cock, gliding it over a vein all the way up towards his tip, then deciding to take the head of it in your mouth.
A hearty groan rips from Eric’s throat as he feels all these sensations, and you begin to bob your head over a bit of his length, your hand jerking off the rest of his shaft.
“Breathe through your nose, baby, and hollow your cheeks,” he advises you between breathy moans.
You slowly challenge yourself to go deeper, coating his cock with your saliva. Eric is entranced by the slurping sounds that start to escape your lips and becomes drunk off the feeling of your warm mouth encompassing his cock.
His eyes shut while his hips can’t help but buck into your mouth at the feeling. You choke at the sudden movement, removing your mouth and gasping for air, sobbing out a moan as his length pops out your mouth.
“Fuck, princess. Mhm—sorry, can’t help myself,” Eric chuckles, licking his lips as his hand falls into your hair, caressing it gently and keeps it from falling around your face.
Your eyes meet and you hold contact, both of your eyes each going dark with lust while you take him in your mouth again, your left hand running up and down on what you can’t fit while your right decides to rest on his balls, beginning to massage and fondle them.
“That’s it, baby! What a good girl, playing with my balls without being asked, hmm—you’re an angel.”
Eric praises you and your moans vibrate around his length in response. Your sucking starts to become more enthusiastic at his praises. You remember to curl your lips over your top teeth so they don’t touch him when you start to feel confident to take him deeper.
Eric’s gaze is fixated down on you as you bob your head, being such a brave girl and taking as much of him as you can. Your head rotates from side to side while sucking him, and your right hand is still rubbing circles along his balls, groping them and loving how heavy they feel in your hold.
Eric can’t help but grip your hair a bit tight as your mouth is driving his body insane. You gag around him as you take a bit more than you’re able and he carefully pulls you off. You cry out as you breathe in the fresh air, a string of saliva still connecting your lips with his cock. Eric growls seeing his cock coated in your spit, saliva, and his precum, and then moves his vision towards your mouth, your own spit now raining down your chin.
You inhale sharply as you give your mouth a short break and your right hand starts to jerk him off, feeling the wetness of his shaft glaze your hand.
“You’re s’ so big, Eric,” you whine and your lips stay parted, running your tongue along the inside of your mouth. “Jaw is starting to hurt.” you whimper as you look up and flutter your lashes at him, throwing your head back, thighs squeezed together as you tighten your hold around his cock.
“Just a little longer, baby. Getting close,” Eric coos and guides your lips back to his cock again. You run his tip all over your lips like a lipstick, humming in satisfaction at the wetness. You want nothing more than to drown in his essence.
Although your jaw is growing tired, you’re desperate to make him cum. You force your mouth to open wider and bob up and down as far as you can, sucking more of him as much as your mouth can handle.
The suction and slurping noises start to become more frequent from you as you pick up the pace. Eric’s breathing becomes more ragged at your rhythms and pretty sounds.
“Mhm, fuck! Getting close princess—where do you want my cum?” his brows furrow as he peers down at you, tears beginning to form in your eyes when you bring his head far back enough to trigger your gag reflex.
You start to get sloppy with your movements and meet his gaze with your own pleading eyes as he attempts to pull you back by your hair, though, your left hand finds purchase on his base and your right hand’s fingers dig deep onto the skin of his leg.
He laughs in seeing you not having any desire to come off him, “So this is what you meant when you said you were hungry earlier, hm? Can’t believe my pretty, perfect girl wants me to cum in her mouth for her first time. So fucking hot.” Eric’s cock twitches and balls tighten up once he’s approaching his release, brows knitting together and mouth agape, beginning to whimper in overstimulation.
“Mhm—Eric!” you muffle around his cock while your pussy throbs from listening to his pretty sounds leaving his lips as a result of you and from his fat length twitching in your mouth.
You continue to suck and jack off sloppily what you can’t fit, and before you know it, his hot, creamy load coats your tongue and paints your mouth white.
Eric’s head is thrown back, abs and jaw clenching as his release creates spasms throughout his entire body, sighing your name over and over weakly like a mantra.
His cum feels hot, thick, and sticky in your mouth. His release tastes slightly sweet, and you swirl and swish it around your mouth before swallowing as much as you can.
Your eyes are heavy lidded as you gently suck the head of his cock like a lollipop in attempt to drink up every last drop of his cum. You bring your lips to the tip and kiss it a few times, rubbing his ball’s tenderly to soothe him.
“Atta girl. Good fucking girl.” Eric praises you, groaning with a raspy voice.
You huff out a breath as you remove yourself entirely from his length. Wetness from tears decorates your eyelashes and stains your cheeks, vision somewhat blurred from all the work you put on his cock. Drool mixed with Eric’s cum is dripping down your lips and chin, and you continue to let spit fall, your mouth open with eyes closed as you try to calm yourself.
Looking at you, Eric feels numb in the head seeing you all fucked in the face from his cock. What a gorgeous sight.
After a few seconds, you both slowly start to calm down your uneven breathing. Your hand goes to wipe off whatever is left on your face, but not before Eric tuts at you and carefully hoists you up against him, his lips attaching against your own in a beat of his heart. Both of your lips move hungrily in sync and you moan into the kiss.
“You did so well, princess. You were such a good girl for me. The most perfect girl, and all mine.” he growls in between kisses as he tastes your saliva mixed with his own cum, and places you on his lap. Your hands go to wrap around his neck and one of his hands smooths over the fat of your middle, massaging it lovingly while his other hand rests on your neck. You shift a bit as he does so, gasping once you become aware of how damp and creamy your bottoms are. Eric seems to feel your wetness over his dick, grinning as the tip of your ears turn red and your cheeks flush pink in embarrassment.
“Aw, my pretty girl is all soaked ‘cause of me?” his hand goes to play with the flesh of your ass and you whine at his words. He kisses your cheeks sweetly and nuzzles his nose against your own. His heart feels so full to be so close to you like this. To have you in his arms and sharing intimate moments is a dream come true. You feel the same as he embraces you and is so gentle to you, feeling so loved by your best friend turned boyfriend.
“Can’t wait to take you on a date and treat you like the princess you are,” he whispers. “Then, when you’re ready, i’ll be sure to make you cum as hard as you made me. Sound’s good, baby?” Eric murmurs and you grab a hold of his chin, ready to plant another kiss on his lips before the sound of a ring causes you both to jolt up.
Eric groans, eyes rolling back in annoyance as he twists his head to see that it’s his phone ringing. You press a quick kiss to his jawline as he answers it, massaging his scalp while he talks on the phone.
“Hello… Oh, you’re here?—I’ll be right out!… Sorry to keep you waiting… Okay thanks, bye!”
“Shit, the pizza’s here.” Your eyes go wide as you register the call and his words and you quickly get off Eric. He rushes to put on his swim shorts and immediately bolts inside to get the food at the front door, leaving you outside by yourself.
You laugh at how fast he scurries off and then you sigh at the feeling of you bottoms sticking to your core within all the wetness. “I hope he lets me borrow a pair of boxers or something,” you say out loud to yourself as you make your way inside, ready to dig into some real food.
As much as Eric’s meat filled your mouth up nicely, you could use a couple slices of pizza to now fill up your empty stomach.
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oracle-of-dream · 3 months
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Regular Maintenance
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Minors DNI
Summary: Your car is been acting up, so badly to the point where you can’t put off going to get it fixed anymore. You’re forced to take your car to the only car shop you can afford and meet the handsome mechanic who’s willing to take a look at your problem.
Warnings: Pet names, Male reader, blowjob, cum swallowing, teasing
Word Count: 2.6k
Sitting on the couch, your stomach groaned and grumbled with hunger. You checked the clock. 10 pm… too early to try and sleep, not that your stomach would let you away way. Finally mustering the strength, you go check out the fridge and the pantry to find nothing to eat. Well, nothing that isn’t a 20-step plan and that was a no-go. Scoping up your phone and opening Ubereats, there somehow were no drivers delivering at this hour.
“Really? It’s not even midnight.” You huffed.
You looked at your car keys hanging on their hook by the garage. You knew it was a risk, but starving wasn’t really an option. You’re parents said they’d take it to the shop for you, but it would take them three days before they’d be able to. Three whole days of not being able to come and go freely was torture. Especially when you were so hungry. You figured, one little drive couldn’t hurt. Just making a run you’ve made several times in your car, and you’re favorite place was right around the corner. You’ve made the drive a hundred times, and could even do it in the dead of night while blindfolded. There’s no way it would be destroyed or something.
You took your keys, opened the garage, and started the car. The dashboard blinked with the service engine light, warning you in a menacing orange hue. Don’t be stupid, just wait… You took a moment to really think if it was worth it. But your stomach reminded you how much you wanted to eat something. Starting at the driveway, you pulled onto the street and everything was smooth. Perfect even. You got to the drive-thru, ordered, paid, and got the food with no issues. But on the way back home. You had to eat, and just a bite couldn’t hurt. You looked away for just a moment to reach in the bag, and when you looked back… a giant pothole was in your path, too close for you to swerve out of the way of. You braced as you felt your car dip and slam into the pavement, your dashboard lit up in anger, and the car slowly came to a stop… You turned the key once, twice, and a third time before realizing what you’d done. You killed your car. It was too late at night to call your parents, they’d bite your head off if you told them you not only went out in the car but then hit the pothole too. You stepped out of your car and lifted the hood, staring hopelessly to see if there was some big sign to help you fix the car enough to get home.
After a few minutes of Google searching and sitting hopelessly next to your car, a sleek black sports car pulled up in front of your car and parked. A man with reddish hair stepped out, you couldn’t see his face very well which put you on guard.
“Hey, you stuck?” The man called.
You put your phone up to your ear like you were on the phone, “yeah, Mom! Thanks so much for coming to me so late, so you’re a few blocks away?” You emphasized the last few words as you walked toward the driver's seat of the car.
The man kept walking closer. “Excuse me, dude,” he jogged to catch you.
You got to the handle and pulled, but the door was locked. You let out an exasperated sigh as you could see your keys in your seat.
“Yikes. Locked out too, huh?” The man was right behind you. “If you want, I can help you.”
You turned to see a man in his early twenties with a leather jacket, a sleeveless white shirt, and black pants. His shirt had black stains on it, and he smelled like gasoline. “You know how to fix cars?”
He nodded. “It’s what I do, fixed her other there myself,” he said pointing at the car we drove. “So you need a hand, or do your parent have you taken care of?”
You awkwardly nodded. “I think they may not be able to fix this, so I’d really owe you if you could help me.”
The man put his hand out. “I’m Eric, you are?”
“Y/n.”
“Got it, so let’s get those keys first and then we can see what this little lady’s issue is.” He rubbed the hood of the car affectionately, like a dog he’d just met.
Eric went back to his car and opened the trunk to pull out a toolbelt and some other stuff. He slung the toolbelt across his body pulled a few pieces out and unlocked the door with ease. He then looked over the front of the car and looked over at the engine and other car guts. 
“It looks like something got knocked out of place. I can push it back in, but there’s some other stuff I wanna take a look at too. It could be dangerous driving it.” Eric put his tools back in his car. “So why don’t we go to my shop, I can get a better look at everything there and I think I have some spare parts that could work here.”
“You said it was dangerous for my car–”
He shook his head, “I’ll have it towed over. You can ride in my car with me. We’ll be in the car the whole time, so you don’t need to worry. I promise I won’t steal her, but I can’t promise about you…” 
You let his last sentence hang in the air as he looked at you for a reaction.
“I’m kidding, I’m sorry, that was a bad one.”
“No, no, it was fine! I just wasn’t expecting it.” 
Eric rubbed his jaw in embarrassment. “You can wait in my car while I call the tow truck if you want. It’ll probably take a few for it to get here.”
You didn’t want to sit in his car alone, but also you didn’t want to just stand there awkwardly. But then you remembered the whole reason you came out there in the first place. You went to your car and pulled out your bag of food. It was a little cold, but your stomach was begging for relief. You sat on the hood of your car while Eric called the tow truck, munching on your food.
Eric wrapped up the call and walked over to you, noticing you eating. “Let me have a bite,” Eric demanded.
You put yourself between him and the food. “Why should I?”
“Because I’m the one who’s helping you. That’s the least you could do… I’m so hungry.”
You begrudgingly handed him the food. Eric held your hand and lifted it to his mouth as he moved down to meet you halfway. His hands were rough and strong, almost squishing your hand in his. He didn’t ask for more after his bite, seemingly satisfied. 
The truck didn’t take long to arrive and hook your car up to the back. Eric got into his car, and you joined him, the smooth leather interior took your breath away. It was so clean and smelled so nice, it didn’t feel like Eric was the one who owned it at all.
It was a short and quiet drive to Eric’s place. You didn’t know what to say, not even thank you felt right at the moment. And every time you tried to muster the courage to speak, Eric would glance in your direction which made you look away shyly. 
The tow truck followed Eric’s car to the shop and your car was placed on a platform so it could be raised and Eric would look at it.
Eric took off his leather jacket, revealing his muscular arms. He worked on the car for maybe thirty minutes, giving you time to look around the place. It was cluttered and small. There were pictures of Eric in front of luxury cars with other people standing next to him, but one picture stuck out to you. It felt like a family photo, even though no one in the picture looked like Eric. It was Eric and nine other men, sitting at a table happily enjoying a night together.
“Find something?” Eric’s voice hummed in your ear, making you jump. He smiled as you turned around to him. He was covered in marks from oil, grease, and probably other stuff that you couldn’t tell.
“Did you finish?”
“Yep. It was a pretty simple fix for someone like me–some real old parts needed to go. So I got those all installed for you. She should be good to go.”
“Thank you so much!” You hugged Eric instinctively. “How much do I owe you for all this?”
Eric chucked. “Don’t worry about it! No charge this time, just promise you’ll come back.”
“Eric, please, I couldn’t just walk out like this. I’m not that kind of person.”
“How about a kiss then?” Eric raised an eyebrow at you.
You felt warm in your face. “I-I don’t know about all that–”
He sighed. “How about your number then?”
“No, I just meant–”
“Wow, no number or kiss? You’re playing hard to get, aren’t you?”
“I’m not–”
Eric stepped forward, making you stop talking. “How about. I take a kiss. And you give me your number?”
You didn’t know how to reply.
Eric let one hand pull you into him by your hair, and the other to cup your face. “One last chance to back off.”
You just close your eyes, feeling the rough skin of Eric’s hand on your face drop away as you feel his soft lips on yours. He moved his hand to the back of your neck, encouraging you to press more into him. You opened your mouth into the kiss, Eric didn’t miss a beat to slide his tongue into the gap and let your tongues finally meet. Gently he guided you backward until your back was against the way. You’re hands felt hot and numb, but still, you let them do whatever they wanted. You felt his neck, his back, his chest, and slowly moved down his torso.
Eric stopped your hands as they reached his belt. He stopped kissing you, letting you collect your breath. “Sorry, I just said a kiss. Anything below the belt requires a second visit.” He winked.
You felt dizzy from the kiss, your body tingled all over. You’d never been so forward with someone, so it was… different. Eric was different. 
“I took my kiss. Now, you wanna give me your number? Again, your choice.”
You fumbled your phone out of your pocket and gave it to him.
“You’re so cute, ya know?” Eric chuckled as he added his number to your phone and texted himself so he had your number. “Text me when you get back home. And don’t feel bad about calling me if you have any more car troubles… Or if you just miss me.”
You nodded, “I will.”
“Good boy. Now get home, it’s late.” Eric kissed you one more time on the cheek as he walked you to your car, opened the door, and sat you down in the driver’s seat.
You turned the key and the engine started with a happy purr. The engine light was gone, and you’d never felt your car start so smoothly before.
“Thank you, Eric.” You said again.
“You’re welcome, babe. Make sure to come to see me again, I’m not really a one-time kind of guy. And if I find out you went to some other garage to get your car looked at, you’ll break my heart.”
You nodded as you reversed out of Eric’s shop. He walked with you and watched you drive away. You could see him staring from your mirror until you turned the corner. Once you got home, you checked your messages.
“Home yet, prince?”
“Yeah. Good guess.”
“I know! I’m just that amazing. But you should sleep now.”
“I will. What about you?”
“I’m almost home now. I’ll be dreaming of you, so do the same and dream of me too, okay?”
“We haven’t even been on a date and we’ve kissed and we’re dreaming of each other?”
“So you will dream of me? You’re so amazing, and such an obedient boy too. I like that.”
You blushed. You could hear his voice teasing your ears as you read his message. “Shut up! I’m going to bed.”
“Good night, y/n. Sweet Angel.”
“Good night, weirdo.”
You stared at his last message. Your heart fluttered, imagining him calling you sweet angel. Your eyelids started feeling heavy. So you put your phone down and finally laid down to sleep. 
When you opened your eyes, you were lying in the back seat of Eric’s car. You could tell it was his from the smell. You sit up and realize you’re not alone. Eric was sitting next to you, your head was just resting on his leg…
“Waiting for me, Angel?” Eric unbuttoned the front button of his pants. His legs spread to make room, a smirk spreading across his lips. 
You crawled over to him. His hand immediately moved to receive you, holding the back of your head as he guided you to his cock that strained against his clothes. You hadn’t even touched him yet…
“I need you, baby. Be a good boy and help me?” He almost sang as he tossed his pants and underwear down. His cock stood proudly, pink and leaking. You lean down and gift him soft kisses around the head. “More…” Eric moaned, his eyes struggling to stay open as he watched his head disappear into your mouth. His legs jerked, threatening to close as the wet warmth around him.
“Jesus, keep going,” he groans as you take more into your mouth. His hips buck as you give him more, licking up the shaft slowly. His head is thrown back into the leather of the seat just as you go for the gold. You open your eyes and look up at him, his eyes sealed shut with his eyebrow scrunched and his forehead slightly wet. His mouth was hung open, breathing hard between grunts and moans. 
You moan in joy around him, making his breath hitch for a moment. 
“Let me drive for sec Angel.” Eric gripped your head in place, gently thrusting into your mouth before building up speed. You start to meet him in time with his thrusts, making his timing stutter and his back arching so much that he starts moving out of his seat. “I’m gonna lose it, you’re gonna suck it right out of me!” His hands move from your head to his neck and the headrest, holding on for dear life as his arms flex. “More! More! I’m right there, so close, sweet boy!”
The climax was enough to make him scream as his cum shot into your mouth, your tongue running wild all over him, swallowing everything he gave you. His legs squirm as you keep sucking, milking him for all he’s worth. “Oh god, please! Please, just–” Eric couldn’t even hold it together to speak.
You started to enjoy his begging, continuing to lick on his overstimulated member. “I’m begging, please!” You finally release him, making his whole body flop down into his seat as he heaved breaths to calm back down.
“I’m gonna get you back for that…” Eric groaned between breaths.
You were exhausted and ended up falling asleep on his bare thigh, listening to the rhythmic sound of his breathing
When you open your eyes, you’re in your bed again… Your phone is next to you.
“Angel, I had a pretty good dream about us.” Eric texted.
“I had a pretty good one too.”
“Oh? You did dream of me!? What did we do?”
You swallowed, thinking about your dream. “Maybe it would be better if I showed you…”
“Name a place and I’ll meet you there.”
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hanniluvi · 4 months
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( 🗒️ ) — ADVENT CALENDAR ‘23?!
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[ 🎥 ] — open something a little special each day before christmas day … who wouldn’t love these gifts?
unlock a new drabble/fic by soph everyday in december before christmas!
[ 💬 ] — happy early december!! as the weather is starting to get colder, i decided to write a 2023 kpop winter masterlist ! there are many reasons as why i have decided to do this — 1. 2023 is coming to an end 2. i hit 2K+ followers 3. and bc it has officially been a year of hanniluvi (since oct 30 2022), so this is my big present for you all! thank you guys so much for all this love on this account, and i hope you love these little fics you get daily very soon 🫶 + get little spoilers of the titles n everything 👀 !!
POSTING SCHEDULE — starting from dec. 1st to dec. 25 . NO FIXATED TIME POSTS ; I POST WHENEVER I CAN!
STATUS : DISCONTINUED ; REMAINING ONES —> 2024 ?!?!
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“ stay in the middle, like you a little ”
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[ ★ ] DAY ONE — lovers’ tv [ jungwon ]
[ ☆ ] DAY TWO — hot choco girl [ hanbin ]
[ ★ ] DAY THREE — his beige sweater [ jake ]
[ ☆ ] DAY FOUR — you’re my star [ eric ]
[ ★ ] DAY FIVE — love easily crumbles [ taehyun ]
[ ☆ ] DAY SIX — ugly christmas sweaters [ beomgyu ]
[ ★ ] DAY SEVEN — come on! [ jaehyun ]
[ ☆ ] DAY EIGHT — this is how it feels [ sunghoon ]
[ ★ ] DAY NINE — blurry hearts [ niki ]
[ ☆ ] DAY TEN — warmth for two [ nicholas ]
[ ★ ] DAY ELEVEN — winter without you [ yeonjun ]
[ ☆ ] DAY TWELVE — you’re blushing? [ changmin ]
[ ☆ ] DAY THIRTEEN — not our last goodbye. [ k ]
[ ☆ ] DAY FOURTEEN — (not so) yummy cookies [ soobin ]
[ ★ ] DAY FIFTEEN — ditto! [ harua ]
[ ★ ] DAY SIXTEEN — wanna share? [ leehan ]
[ ★ ] DAY SEVENTEEN — perfect night [ heeseung ]
[ ☆ ] DAY EIGHTEEN — taking care of you [ sunwoo ]
[ ★ ] DAY NINETEEN — last christmas [ taesan ]
[ ☆ ] DAY TWENTY — skater boy [ sunoo ]
[ ★ ] DAY TWENTY ONE — snowball fight? [ zhanghao ]
[ ☆ ] DAY TWENTY TWO — missing snow angel [ hyunjae ]
[ ★ ] DAY TWENTY THREE — crowded [ gunwook ]
[ ☆ ] DAY TWENTY FOUR — that’s us [ chanhee ]
[ ★ ] DAY TWENTY FIVE — be my plus one [ jay ]
( * ) PLEASE NOTE THAT SOME FIC IDEAS / TITLES MAY CHANGE BUT THE IDOLS WOULD MOST LIKELY STAY THE SAME FOR THIS MASTERLIST !
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TAGGING PEOPLE IN CERTAIN GROUP TAGLISTS !
—> people in certain taglists will only be tagged in idol works of that group
—> if you wish to be tagged for any group(s) on here or just for the mlist in general, let me know !
ENHA PERM TAGLIST (1) — @flwoie @ixomiyu @haruavrse @shinsou-rii @bearseulgs @ilovewonyo @yenqa @dimplewonie @bubblytaetae @wtfhyuck @ineedaherosavemeenow @ml8dy @starikizs @wonioml @chirokookie @xiaoderrrr @neozon3nha @en-chantedtomeetyou @millksea @enhaz1 @eundiarys @hyeosi @ja4hyvn @judeduartewannabe @j-wyoung @thia-aep @vampcharxter @softpia @officiallyjaehyuns @itsactuallylina @hsheart @sweetjaemss @ahnneyong @hanienie @jwnghyuns @kpoplover718 @jiawji @rikizm @haknom @yeokii @wvnkoi @whoschr @teddywonss @shinunoga-iie-wa @isoobie @skzenhalove @misokei @s00buwu @ox1-lovesick @miercerise @litttlestars @enhapocketz
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setsugekka · 1 year
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❥six-thirty (m)
↳ sunwoo is just a friend. A friend with a fire-hot possessive streak.
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kim sunwoo x fem!reader — friends with benefits, explicit sexual content [2,5k wc] cws: penetrative sex (unprotected), possessiveness, rough sex, a lot of dirty talking, praise, a drop of humiliation.
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“Just tell him to fuck off already!”
You pretend to be taken aback by the words in spite of you doing everything in your power to bring the man to this point of contention — a friends with benefits situation going on for far longer than any of the other ones have lasted, but hey, what can you say?
Sunwoo happens to be a bit more fun than the rest.
His voice whiny and exasperated as he dramatically tosses, turns and kicks his feet in your bed like a toddler; under typical circumstances a far from enticing display, but from him, you know what it means for you to get him upset like this.
And shortly after tiring from his fit, Sunwoo makes quick work of snuggling up from behind you — chest pressed against your back and chin comfortably nestled between your shoulder and your neck as he showers the exposed skin with delicate kisses. Phone still in hand, you dim the screen as you feel him creep up — partially, because there’s nothing to be seen there, anyway, but mostly because you know doing so will make him feel crazy.
It’s a point of contention, sure, his jealous-streak, but more than that, it makes the sex fucking spectacular.
“Why are you even talking to him right now when you’re with me?” He finally asks, opting out of the previous demand and instead slinking back into his usual role — a pointed knee pressing between your legs in an effort to part them just slightly as his hand begins its anticipated journey down the side of you and between your legs from over your hip.
“Oh, but he’s just a friend.”
A playful quip back to him as you turn your head just slight enough that he can see your attempt at making eye contact. The scoff escaping from his plump lips telling enough that you’re triumphant in precisely what it is that you’re aiming for.
“I’m just a friend, too.”
“So, why are you so possessive then?”
“Because! It makes me crazy thinking about you being with other men! Why do you even need other men—” pausing then as his middle finger finally meets it’s mark against your clit, and hesitantly drawing slow, dull circles into you as you press your behind back and against his barely clothed form.
What’s wrong with a little jealousy-fueled round two, after all? With both merely in undergarments as is, may as well make the most of the time.
“—who makes you cum like I do? You get me like this so I’ll fuck you sideways, I’m nothing but a pawn to you, huh?”
At face value, the words seem more pointed than they are; hot breath fanning over the exposed skin of your arm as he continues trailing his lips across any skin that he can sink his teeth into and still more than focused on the busy work of his hand — surely, if he were really upset, he simply wouldn’t be partaking in any such games.
But suppose the being a pawn works in both of your favors.
“Maybe so, what are you gonna do about it, then?”
A cunning retort, you know it’ll drive him mad.
“I know you want me to say that I’ll fuck you dumb and just have to make it so you never crave another man ever again,” he bemoans against your ear, voice low and heady and simultaneously feeling the way the pressure of his finger against you picks up just that much more as he says the words. Arching your back even more to press yourself against his now ever present erection, the both of you silently opt out of further conversation on the matter in the immediately present tense and instead — Sunwoo with his other hand, gently shimmying his underwear down and out of the way enough to pull his length from the confines of the fabric and press the tip against precisely where you want him to be, it’s only then, than he finally decides you worthy of a continuation of the thought.
“So, I won’t say it. I’ll just have to do it.”
With the hand between your legs, pulling your hips back and towards him as he effectively uses the leverage to push you down and onto his cock all over again — the sinful sigh that eventually transforms into a groan against your ear as he feels you envelop him — you meet him there, having received exactly what it was that you had set out to achieve; a pitiful whimper dropping from your lips at the feeling of him filling so you completely as his hips meet flush against your ass with an excruciating slow drive.
Stilling inside of you, Sunwoo drags his hand up the front of you — lingering slightly on your breast to gently pinch and run circles into the nub as he kisses and nips at the flesh of your neck and jaw so hungrily it’s as if he has intent to devour you entirely — shortly thereafter, the continued journey upwards as his hand settles on the underside of your chin, pulling your face up to grant him better, easier access to previously untouched skin there.
Sucking and biting marks into you, he finally pulls his hips back slowly only to press forward just as leisurely as he had previously. Torturous, and of course it is — just as intended.
It’s sort of what makes sex with him so good.
A languid, slow rhythm against you, offering such little friction that you feel as though your mind may numb from the want and need of more of him — faster, harder, more, more, more.
Shifting the placement of his hand ever so slightly, from your dazed, needy state you feel the tapping of his middle finger against your lips and almost instinctively you part them for entry — Sunwoo quickly sheathing two of them against your tongue and groaning at the sensation of you tightly closing your mouth around them as if so painfully hungry for his cock in any way that even just having this will have to do, for now.
“You’re so mean to me,” he finally says with words that are half air. “Tease me, get me all upset with you just so I’ll fuck you — you know, you can just ask nicely.”
With a face stuffed full of him, you only moan in response. Well aware of your inability to answer him, he carries on the discussion as if speaking only to himself.
“If you were nice, I’d fuck you nicer, too—”
Pressing his hand further towards the back of your throat, you feel the familiar sensation of your eyes beginning to water before he grants you quick reprieve.
“—but you don’t want that, do you?”
It’s such a small shift in speed that you might not notice it if not painstakingly hungry for the release that you know will eventually be granted to you — now hyper aware of every movement he makes from behind you in any effort to get more friction from the cock buried inside of you — another whimper spilling from between his fingers at it, to which, Sunwoo can only laugh.
“When did you get so needy? But, I suppose—”
Drawing from you nearly entirely only to fully sheath himself inside of you again with a fast snap of his hips — impact so hard it has you jutting forward against the mattress as he does so — Sunwoo finally frees his other arm from the awkwardness of the position to bring it up and fold a hand into your hair. Not especially hard, and not with intent to hurt all that much, but rather, a familiar sting that lets you know that he’s there.
And then suddenly, the removal of his fingers from between your lips, hand back to its firm position at the place where your chin and throat meet.
Hot breath against your ear again, then another hard, quick drive of himself into you. You can’t help but cry out in response to it.
A man not known to be a domineering, or violent lover — but rather, a man who likes to stake his claim on what he sees as his.
“How d'you want me?”
A question coming a bit out of left field: The inquiry in and of itself relatively innocuous between lovers, but when pulled apart to be viewed in layers — ‘how do you want to receive me?’ — the understanding that he be the one giving himself to you, rather that alternatively, or even beyond that — perhaps it be both simultaneously.
You don’t answer quick enough for his liking, however, now well into playing his role. Fingers just ever so faintly digging harder into your hair to entice you to respond — your lust-filled mind instead honed in on the perfect drag of his cock and the way that his breath catches in his throat with every glide into you. Pulling it together enough to give it what it is that he’s searching for — you do what you can, but it’s not much.
“F-fuck me from behind.”
“Yeah,” he huffs out, already halfway through pulling himself from between your legs as if he anticipated the answer all along. Which he had. “Thought so.”
Quick with his work as he pushes you forward and brings himself to his knees just behind you, hands dipping down to your hips and pulling them up to meet his own — leaning forward to pull each arm back and clasped within a hand like makeshift handcuffs as he uses the other to carefully position himself for reentry.
The whole thing happening in a span of what you can only fathom to be ten seconds or less.
Balancing yourself on your chest and shoulders with no hands for leverage otherwise as your head is forced to be turned back for what little of him you can visualize, once again the slow, smooth slip of him entering you from behind, but with the new angle feeling fuller, longer — more of him entirely as he’s painfully slow with bottoming out inside of you.
“Feel good?”
You hate that he’s asking, largely due to the fact that the ability to speak is not one that comes easily to you now, but you also know that to be highly in part why it is that he’s doing so.
Intent to wreck you. Destroy you. Not with aggression, or violence, but rather with attention to detail, pleasure, and hopefully, the insatiable need to have no one but him inside of you ever again.
“Already can’t talk?” He teases, quickly settling into a steady pace against you as he holds you firmly in place with your hands pressed into the small of your back and whimpering with every drive of his cock into you. “You’re so pretty like this, God, you take me so well. Come on, baby, tell me how good I feel.”
It’s far more mental for Sunwoo than it is physical.
“You feel so good, so good.” You finally manage out, for his sake — gathering enough mental fortitude to string a sentence together for the man since you know he needs it so badly.
He likes the praise just as much as you do.
Groaning at the words and the confirmation even more so with an especially hard few snaps of his hips into you — you kind of hate how easy it is for him to make you cum, but also, it’s sort of why you’ve kept him around this long, after all. Tightening in your abdomen, you whimper out his name just enough for him to catch onto — he knows the signal, free hand darting down to between your legs to rub against your clit with the flat of his fingers.
The feeling nearly has your knees buckling then and there, but not with his hold onto you.
“Gonna cum, baby?”
“Fuck, yes, don’t stop—” you say, coming out as a bit more like a demand than intended, but knowing it probably gets him going all the same, who cares, really?
“This what you wanted? So needy and pathetic to have me fuck you into the mattress like this? Now you’re making demands?”
Oops.
“Can’t wait to make a mess of you,” he says, first slowing the intensity of his thrusts to allow a small, trailing of saliva to drip from his mouth to the precise place in which his cock disappears inside of you before slowly at first carrying on again. “Messy, nasty, baby, but all for me.”
Mentally, it does a bit of a number on you. More than anticipated, and you know that he can feel the way your muscles clench down around his length as he settles back into his hard and fast drive into you. Moaning at the feeling, Sunwoo can’t help but comment on it — “Oh? You like that, huh? You want me to ruin you, don’t you?”
The 'yes’ falls from your lips before you even have a shot at pulling it back for reconsideration.
Grip on your wrists tightening that much more, Sunwoo pulls you firmer back and against his hips, fingers digging harder circles against your clit to finally push you into your orgasm. It’s certainly working as he fucks you harder than before, fuller thrusts as he pulls nearly entirely from your drenched cunt to deliver back the complete glide of his cock to you.
“Cum on my cock. I’ll give you what you want.”
Not sure if it’s the physicality of everything, the sinful throatiness to his voice, the words themselves, or everything combined that has the simple demand pulling exactly that from you — thighs quivering and teeth gritted as you whine and shout through the intensity of your high — Sunwoo all the while fucking you through its totality. Over the peak and tailing towards the come down is when he cums with a loud groan and a few extra hard and rough snaps of his hips. Whispered chants of “gonna cum, gonna cum, fuck—” before burying himself so deep into you it nearly brings discomfort as he empties his load.
Heavy breaths resounding through the room as the both of you slowly come back down from your euphoric releases, Sunwoo gently pulling his softening length from you with a wince of overstimulation — only to watch in awe as his cum messily spills from you as you lazily remain in your assumed position.
“You better tell me if you let another guy cum inside of you,” he begins, and at first, the words set off a particular set of alarm bells in your head. Alarms that say 'this isn’t part of the game,’ and 'this is getting a bit too serious,’ before you feel long, adept fingers fucking his work right back into from where it had left.
“Because I’ll fuck my load into your already cum-filled cunt, too.”
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♡ send me your thoughts and feelings in my ask  (⌒‿⌒) —this is a oneshot, there will be no part 2.
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marksmelodies · 4 months
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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
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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
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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
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sungbeam · 2 months
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𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞
nonidol!eric sohn x gn!reader
you can't figure out why eric's been acting different, but maybe you had nothing to worry about in the first place.
8.2k words, bffs2l, college au, reader is incredibly oblivious, swearing, pining, flirting, kissing, mentions of organic chemistry (yuck), eric sohn, fluff, one really bad that's what he said joke (sorry it was chenle), mentions of alcohol
a/n: to @mosviqu !! (requests are closed) hope you like this one, beloved :')) thanks for waiting
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A midnight pool party wasn't exactly what you had in mind when you told your friends that you had just gotten off of work. You'd thought they were just having a game night at another friend's house, but it turned out, they decided to utilize said friend's massive backyard space, including his heated pool lined with LED lights at the bottom.
"Who the hell has LED lights at the bottom of their pool?" You voiced aloud in the car.
Ningning's voice wrapped around you from the full volume of your phone's speaker, "My friend from middle school and the one who got us into Yangyang's party the other night—Zhong Chenle. You remember him, right? We went to high school with him, too."
You definitely remembered him. How could you not? He had the most subtly rich personality you'd ever come across. You once thought he was wearing a regular, white Hanes T-shirt from the store (the ones that came in a six pack from Costco), but it turned out that it was a two hundred dollar Balenciaga top.
It was literally just a white shirt.
"Yeah, so we're just here with him and some of his friends," Ningning continued on. You could hear the sounds of merriment in the background, including music and bodies crashing into the pool.
You pulled up to your apartment complex, and it took a second for you to gather your belongings and scramble out of the car. You squeezed your phone between your ear and shoulder as you bumped the car door closed with your hip. "Who's there again? I know you and Winter, but specifically…"
"Uhhh—besides Chenle, there's Renjun, Yangyang, Sungchan, and Eric."
As you let yourself into the apartment, you paused. “Wait, Eric's back?”
There was a commotion on the other side and for a moment, you didn't hear what Ningning said. Then she returned to the speaker with a giggle in her voice, “Yn! We're playing Monopoly soon, but I'm only playing if you're coming over—oh shit, did you say something just now?”
You chuckled, dumping your bag on the kitchen counter and just barely stopping yourself from slumping over like your work bag. “I just asked if Eric was back. I thought you just said he was there with you all.”
“Oh yeah! He said he got back from LA a few hours ago. I don't know how he's not severely jetlagged, but you know what? He brought booze.”
“Sounds like Eric,” you mused. You wondered why he hadn't told you he was back in town. You thought he wouldn't be taking off until tomorrow morning, so that was when you were expecting him.
“—so?”
“Hm?”
“You coming over?”
“Yeah, yeah give me a few.”
One cup of crappy coffee and a change of clothes later, you arrived in front of Chenle's house just a fifteen minute drive from your complex. It was gated and tucked away, which made sense as to why they were able to make so much noise. You could hear the music out from the driveway.
Ningning emerged from the shadows of the side entrance to the house. Her eyes lit up at the sight of you. "Ahh, Yn! I'm so glad you're finally here," she squealed and skipped over to you in her flip-flops, wrapping her arms around you in a big hug. Your friend was dressed in a pretty, bandeau bikini top and bottom, her inky black hair falling down her shoulders like the flow of a waterfall.
You laughed as she pulled away. "Glad I could make it. Are we just going through the side gate or something?"
She nodded and guided you through the foliage. "Yeah. How was work?"
You figured that after your long shift, you probably wouldn't have much energy to actually go swimming. You'd changed into a bathing suit anyway and threw a T-shirt and shorts over it in case, but had arrived with little more than your wallet, keys, and lip gloss.
You gave her a shrug in reply. "Eh. It's work," you said, your voice barely loud enough to hear over the sound of water splashing and high-pitched shrieks. "It was quiet, at least."
"That's good," she nodded with a soft smile thrown over her shoulder. "Thank god you're finally here. Chenle decided he didn't wanna get his limited edition Jade Rabbit Monopoly board wet—” She gave an indulgent eye roll, “—but his game, his decision, I guess.”
You chimed in your agreement just as you and Ningning emerged on the side of the backyard that hosted your friends and their midnight pool party. From your vantage, you could count the heads present, including one Yangyang making a splash into the pool and getting water all over Renjun.
“Yn!” Winter raised a hand from where she sat cross-legged on a lounge chair.
“Yo, what's up, Yn?” Sungchan hollered from the side of the pool where the speaker was. He was fiddling around with whoever's phone was connected to the aux cord.
You grinned, greeting everyone with a big wave. “Hey, guys. Have you been out here for long?”
“Yangyang, I swear to—” Renjun's swear cut through the music to the symphony of Yangyang's screeching of absolute delight. The former brushed his wet hair back, rubbing the pool water out of his eyes. It wasn't until afterward that he greeted you back as you neared where he had been dragged into the pool by his friend. “Hi, Yn. Did you just get here?”
“I did! Where's—”
The back door to the house slid open and Chenle emerged dragging out a massive cooler of what you assumed to be drinks. Carrying the back end was Eric in a pair of dampened board shorts with his wet bangs hanging in his eyes.
“Eric Sohn! You're not supposed to be here until tomorrow morning, you poser!” You shouted in his direction.
Chenle and Eric's heads both whipped over toward where you and Ningning were. Chenle said something to Eric with a wide-ass monkey grin, then proceeded to drag the cooler the rest of the way without Eric's help.
Eric cupped the back of his neck sheepishly as he approached you. He must have recently gotten out of the pool, because there was still water dripping down the lines of his chest and stomach. “In my defense, the airline offered me money if I took an earlier flight,” he said with a laugh.
“As your certified best friend,” you mused, “I'm offended I wasn't the first to know about this update.”
“Okay, best friend, let me hug you to make up for it.”
Your eyes widened, “Eric, you're wet—”
“That's what he said!” Chenle howled with laughter at his own joke, and Ningning groaned in anguish.
“Okay and?” Before you could protest any more, he trapped you in his arms, pressing his dampened skin against your perfectly dry outer garments. For good measure, he nuzzled his wet hair against the side of your face, too.
“You're like—like a dog,” you laughed, playfully pushing him away.
Eric beamed and placed his hands on his hips. “Golden retriever to your black cat. Now, do I have to dump you in that pool myself or are you going to like swimming tonight?”
Your face pressed into a deadpanning line, which drew an even brighter sound from him. You couldn't help but smile; it was nice to have him back. “You're so annoying sometimes. I'm sitting on the edge of the pool only, and you can suck it.”
As you began making your way over to the edge of the pool, Eric trailed after you with his head shaking and a laugh lingering on his tongue. “Missed you, Yn.”
It was a good thing you were facing away from him right then. A smile split your face like a slice of watermelon. “Missed you, too, Sohn.”
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You didn't see your friends again until the following Friday evening. It wasn't late enough to call it “night” nor early enough to call it “afternoon.” It was a timestamp somewhere in the middle when the sun had yet to decide if it would hide behind the buildings or peer through the alleyways. It was also when the Korean BBQ place in the university district was relatively bare, and so you and your friends could get away with scoring the big table in the back on the raised platform.
“I feel like a king,” Chenle said with a smile on his face as he breathed in the smell of beef on the grill.
Sungchan flipped over one of the pieces of chicken with his tongs. “Wait, so Yn, they're for real making you work the Friday night closing shift?”
All eyes turned toward your end of the table where you sat with Eric on your right, and Ningning and Winter across from you.
Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked, your dominant hand pausing your chopstick movements. “Oh, uh, yeah… I mean,” you added with a shrug, “it's not so bad most of the time. I think I would rather have me working than one of the kids.” The store you worked at was relatively understaffed, and your manager oftentimes hired high schoolers from the nearby district to fill in the spaces. There were rare occasions where rowdy customers came in during the latter hours of the night, and you would rather your younger colleagues didn't have to worry about that. (Even if you yourself also worried about rowdy customers.)
“Do you at least get a closing shift bonus?” Winter asked, her cheek stuffed with her last bite. “When I worked part-time at the corner store last year, they at least incentivized closing.”
“Usually when I work alone, yeah,” you said.
Eric's left arm came to rest over the back of your chair as he leaned forward to transfer a slab of short rib to your bowl. “Are you working alone tonight?” He asked, reaching past you to grab a piece of cucumber from one of the metal bowls of side dishes.
You placed the cucumbers between the two of you temporarily so he could have easier access. “I think so,” you said. “Unless my manager recruited someone else, but yeah, I think it'll probably just be me.”
The rest of the table turned to their individual conversations, especially as one of the waiters brought over an additional platter of meats to grill.
Eric murmured to you, “What if I just happened to show up at your work tonight?”
You turned your body slightly to face him, mutual smiles curling onto both of your mouths. “What, need a new first aid kit or something?”
“And a little dose of Yn Ln,” he said before popping a slice of fish cake into his mouth. He was still leaning in close to you, the twinkle in his eyes like a secret only you two knew. You were trying to not let the skin peeking out of his tank top throw you off balance; it was definitely just the heat and steam that made it glisten.
Your eyebrows shot up at his remark. “You're getting plenty of me now.”
“I need to make up for when I was away,” he replied as easy as it was for him to drink water. “I told you, I missed you.”
It was the fire from the grill, the heat of the room, the smell of the food. It was not Eric Sohn making your skin hot or your heart trip—at least, that was what you told yourself. He was attractive, yes, and he was one of your best friends. He was flirty, double yes, but he was still just a friend. (Right?) “Did you breathe too much LA air?” You joked half-heartedly. “You're acting… different.”
He shoved his bite into his cheek and gave you a shrug. “I think I'm acting exactly how I should be,” he said with a quirk of his eyebrows, then tuning into whatever topic Renjun had brought up—something about a party at Han Jisung's house.
Your head tilted to the side in dumbfoundment, but you returned to the rest of the group even if your brain was rewinding that conversation over and over again in your head. What did he mean that he was acting exactly how he should be?
For a moment, you turned back to look at him. His head was so close to yours, his body scooted forward on his chair to close that distance between his legs and yours. You couldn't read him—could only see the mirth in his eyes from Chenle and Renjun going back and forth in Chinese, as if he could understand. You weren't sure what you were looking for.
He glanced over at you then to meet your eyes. It was a split second, but that was enough to alter your brain chemistry, that you were sure his eyes flickered down to your lips. Then his eyes were away from you, having never dared a look at all.
It was about three hours later that you found yourself stationed behind the front counter at the store you worked at. After six, usually the crowd dwindled down when everyone was out having dinner or curled up at home for the night.
That left you with a few options to occupy the time. With the aisles less than crowded, you could hook your phone up to the overhead speaker and bop your head while stocking up the aisles. While Wednesdays were the main inventory days, some of that work spilled into Thursdays and Fridays depending on how much was delivered and who was on the schedule.
You were sorting through the candy aisle checking for expired dates when you heard the jingle of the bell above the front door. “Hi, welcome in!” You hollered from over the aisle, then broke into a smile at the sight of a familiar Los Angeles Angels baseball cap.
Eric tracked your voice and joined you in the aisle you were in, his tank top from earlier swapped out for a dark colored T-shirt under a corduroy jacket. He must have not wanted to come in clothes that reeked of food. “Hey you,” he said, walking over to ruffle your hair.
“Aye,” you chided half-heartedly and reached up to smooth out the hair on top of your head. “I didn't think you were being serious about stopping by,” you mused. You squeezed your hand to reach for the bars of chocolate at the far back. When you examined them and determined that they had reached the shelf expiration date, you dumped them into the shopping basket at your feet to be logged later.
“Of course I was being serious,” he huffed while perusing the bags of gummy candies hanging in the section next to you.
“Those are pretty good.” You pointed out a brand of lesser known gummies shaped like whale sharks. They had adorable, little smiles, but when they got damaged or melted… it was less adorable and less smile-looking. But they were nice and snackable, nonetheless.
He hummed in consideration and plucked a bag off the hanger. “How many of these brands have you tried?”
“Like… five or six,” you said. “I just kind of mark it as a store expense, and then me and the other person on shift share it.”
He chuckled, a smile flitting over his lips after examining the back of the bag. “Wanna share these with me?”
“Sure, man.”
That was how you found yourself at the front counter across from Eric, a bag of whale shark gummies split open between you. You had the store's to-do list binder open and were checking off the items you'd completed, all the while popping a poor whale shark into your mouth. Eric had found interest in one of the celebrity magazines displayed on the rack by the door.
It had so far been a slow night with very few customers coming in to grab a last minute case of beer or condoms. All the usual shit. However, time flew past a lot faster with Eric keeping you company. Even though the conversation you'd had with him at dinner earlier lingered in the back of your mind, it was quickly forgotten as he filled your time talking about LA, plans for the summer, and whatever you were up to while he was gone.
As midnight fast approached, the gummy sharks were finished and you whipped out the broom to begin cleaning up.
Eric idly scrolled through your phone to choose a song, skipping one after the other. “Can I help clean up or anything?” He asked after settling on a Dominic Fike song.
“Just sit still and look pretty,” you teased as you swept some dust and debris into a dustpan.
He smiled to himself. “That should be your job.”
There went your heart again, but thank god you were turned away from him. “Unfortunately, I don't get paid for that.”
“How much do you want?”
You turned your head over your shoulder to look at him, and he sent you a cheeky grin. You laughed loud at the ridiculousness, then returned to sweeping the aisle you were in. “You’re so stupid,” you said playfully. You didn't mean it… sort of. He was stupidly smooth, stupidly pretty, stupidly—
Eric grabbed the dustpan to trail after you. “Damn, I call you pretty and you call me stupid?”
“What if stupid is a compliment?”
“When is it ever a compliment?”
Despite the banter, the two of you were both beaming at each other in the lowlight. In no time, you had the entire store swept clean (for the most part), and you went to tuck the broom and dustpan into the back room. The clock struck just about midnight, too, and you swung the ring of keys around your index finger, your bag hanging off your shoulder.
Eric glanced up from where he had his nose buried in his phone screen. “Ready?” He asked, perking up like a golden retriever.
“Yep.” You stopped behind the counter to clock out. “Thanks for keeping me company, Eric. I really appreciate it.”
“Hey, what are f—” His voice broke for a second, and you sent him a look. He cleared his throat, “What are friends for?”
You finished clocking out on the computer, then slipped out from behind the counter and moved toward where Eric was. “Is that what we are?” You jested in reply.
His eyes went wide for a second. “What?”
Your head cocked to the side quizzically. “Is that what we are? Friends?” You repeated. When he still looked dumbfounded, you grimaced, “Was that lame? Yeah, that was lame. Let's just forget about that.”
You stepped toward the front door, but Eric placed a hand on your upper arm to stop you.
“Wait, Yn—”
You stopped with a hum in your throat, head turned back toward him. The two of you stood slightly closer now. Beneath the dim fluorescents, between the cold medicine and magazine rack, you searched this man's eyes for an answer he wasn't giving you. You could measure the length of his eyelashes from this distance, and you saw the shine mark on his lips after his tongue darted out to wet it.
“Eric?” You voiced quietly after he hadn't said anything. “Everything okay?”
Something shuddered in his expression and you swore his cheeks darkened in shade. “Nothing,” he said swiftly. “Sorry, it's nothing.”
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Eric sat down across from you with a pair of headphones hanging around his neck and his hood thrown over his head. He nudged his black-rimmed glasses up his nose as he powered his laptop on. “Hey,” he whispered to you, his eyes darting around to make sure no one around you was bothered by his speaking.
The two of you were situated in the upper levels of your university library to study for your upcoming final exams. Most of the libraries on campus had a system in place where lower levels were meant as collaborative spaces with each level getting quieter in general volume. You and Eric were on the top floor, but at one of the desks tucked into one of the bookshelves. There were a few people around you, but they were hidden by walls and shelves, for the most part.
“I think you're fine,” you whispered to him in amusement as you uncapped your highlighter to mark a specific passage in the text you were reading.
Eric got up and quietly moved his chair to sit adjacent to you, rather than across from you. “What're you working on?”
“Just some research for a paper,” you replied. “You?”
“O-chem,” he said, and his entire being flopped over his closed laptop, his face crumpled in anguish.
You cooed silently and gently patted his hoodie-covered head. “You poor thing.”
Oh, organic chemistry. The monster it was.
When he still didn't pick himself or his laptop screen up, you leaned over to lay on top of him. “This is comfortable,” you muttered into the back of his hoodie.
You heard him hum in agreement.
“Dude, I don't even know how you're keeping up with your classes during baseball season,” you whispered and began mindlessly drawing flowers on his back.
“I'm not.”
You had to bury your face into his back to suppress your snort. “That's valid.”
“Thanks.”
“Awwh,” you murmured and wrapped your arms around his back. “It's gonna be okay. I promise.” Out of the two of you, Eric was usually the one with the sunny disposition, but it didn't mean you wouldn't jump at the opportunity to help him feel better. He deserved just as much tender love and care.
For a moment, you stayed in that position with your body covering his and your arms wrapped around him. If you weren't careful, you might have fallen asleep like that.
Eventually, you peeled yourself off of him and coaxed him to sit up with you. “Study for an hour with me and then we can get a treat.”
“Your face is a treat,” he said groggily, rubbing his eye from behind his glasses while yawning.
You covered up any signs of being flustered with, “Is that how you pull girls, Sohn?”
“No, that's how I pull you.”
You didn't need to feel your skin to know your face was on fire. He didn't even glance over at you, only sleepily smacked his lips together and pulled his laptop lid up with robotic motions. Maybe that was a good thing though. You still weren't too sure how you felt about his flirty remarks as of late, and they had yet to cease.
But… you looked over at Eric and he was already getting to work—you could deal with it later. It wasn't like it meant anything, right? Surely, the quickening of your heart and continually flustered state because of him meant absolutely nothing, right? Of course. And they definitely weren't signs that you liked his increased lines. Definitely.
(Who the fuck were you trying to fool?)
As promised, after about an hour passed by, you and Eric packed up your things to head out to find something to munch on. With spring slowly fading out into a pretty summer, the sun gleamed from its perch in the sky to warm the day. The trees lining the walkway were beginning to lose their flower buds in exchange for rich, dark green leaves.
A few minutes out from the university's main campus, you and Eric walked into a bakery that was frequented by many of your peers. It wasn't a complete surprise to see that nearly all of the tables inside were occupied by people with headphones in, laptops on, and books out.
You and Eric hopped in line, nonetheless, your eyes darting from the display case to the room to scout for an open table. Your fingers drummed against the strap of your bag. “You know what you're getting?”
He hummed. “The almond croissant kind of sounds good right now. What about you?”
“Might get a sandwich, to be honest,” you said. You hadn't had a filling breakfast, so you might as well make up for it.
“Which sandwich?”
“You're not paying.”
He narrowed his eyes playfully with a purse of his lips. “That's what you think.”
He did not pay for your sandwich.
While there was not a single open table inside, there were plenty of them outside. Eric wrinkled his nose at you as you were just about to take a bite of your sandwich. You stopped short. “What? Don't tell me you're butthurt, Sohn.”
“That’s such a weird word,” he said, gently pulling a piece of the croissant apart for him to put into his mouth.
“What, butthurt?” You could agree with that. It was kind of funny. “True, but it describes you pretty well.”
He laughed then, his eyes turning upward into pretty, little crescent moons. Since the two of you were forced to sit outside, the sunshine had an easier path to paint over your friend's face and make him look even more ethereal. A feeling worked its way into your chest at the sight of him like this. “Okay, honey. Whatever.”
You smiled around your bite, replying only after you'd swallowed it, “See? Butthurt.”
“I'm a good sport though.”
“Fine, I will admit that you're a good sport.”
His smile widened as if satisfied with that answer.
From within your bag, you could hear an aggressive vibration from your phone. You set your meal down to wipe your hands, then fished the device out.
At the sight of the text messages, your face morphed into one of mild amusement concealing a whole lot of “what the heck?”
Eric noticed your change in mood. “Something wrong?”
“Not necessarily?” You opened up the text chain that you had with Bae Sumin, one of your friends whom you met from a composition class you both shared in freshman year. “She's asking if you'd be interested in being set up for a date.”
You didn't know why there had been a spike of panic in your heart after reading it. It wasn't like you had any claim over Eric; that wouldn't be right to gatekeep him, especially when you didn't like him like… that, right?
His brows knitted together as he skimmed over the messages. When he was done he leaned away, his head already shaking. “I'm not really interested.”
“Really?” You asked curiously, withdrawing your phone back to your side of the table and mentally drafting a text message back. “Sieun's pretty nice.”
“I'm just—” he nudged his glasses up, letting out a breathy laugh, “—I’d rather figure that all out for myself, y'know? It's not like I don't think Sieun's a good person, but I…” He huffed, and it sounded almost frustrated.
You didn't know why you felt guilty all of a sudden. “You don't have to explain it to me, dude,” you said and began texting Sumin back. “If you don't want to, then you don't want to, y'know? It's better than leading her on.”
“Yeah,” he murmured.
“So you're not interested in anyone then?” You asked, in an attempt to slowly bring the conversation away from matchmaking. “You know what? You don't have to say anything—we can talk about something else—”
“I'm interested in someone,” he cut in.
You paused, surprised. You felt your pulse leap. Who? You wanted to ask, but instead inquired, “Really?”
He avoided your eyes. “Yep.”
“Oh.” Well that would make sense why he didn't want to be set up with someone else. Why couldn't he just say that in the first place then?
You gnawed on your bottom lip and couldn't help but think about who Eric could be interested in. There was a jittery flutter in your stomach at the thought. You didn't want to pry, but you were also curious as to who he was interested in. “Well, uh, good for you! I think that's really great.”
That… sounded so insincere.
Eric lifted his gaze to yours, and you felt a jolt run down your spine at the look in his eyes. “Thanks, Yn. I don't really know what to do though, to be honest.”
You frowned, tucking your phone away. “About—about the person? Or about your feelings?”
“I guess,” he said with a helpless gesture of his hands, “both.”
You pressed your lips together. It had been awhile since you were remotely interested in anyone either. And even back then, you were never the sort of person to speak up about your feelings with the person first. But this was Eric, and you wanted to at least try to help him. “Is this person not someone you think you should have feelings for? I guess I’m just asking why you feel conflicted or helpless.”
“Kind of,” he said, tongue in cheek. “They’re—they’re one of my—” He stopped himself. “They’re one of the best people I know, I just don’t think they feel the same way.”
“And so you don’t want to risk losing them should you confess?” You finished for him. You felt your posture droop with sympathy, and maybe a bit of envy. Who could this be about?
Eric scratched the underside of his jaw. “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Well, I mean, if they’re as good of a person as you say, I think that they wouldn’t hold it against you or your friendship if you confessed and they didn’t feel the same.” If you were in his situation, you wouldn’t want to lose Eric ei—wait, what? Why were you thinking of it like that? You shook yourself out of whatever delusional headspace you found yourself in. “And in any case, maybe you can flirt with them, or hint to them your feelings and see how they respond.”
His eyebrow arched high. “I’ve definitely done that.”
“And?”
He smirked, a chuckle falling out of his mouth. “They may be one of the best people I know, but they’re as oblivious as a rock sometimes.”
Your own brows lifted. “Damn.” And you knew exactly how blatant Eric’s flirting style was.
Eric’s eyes caught onto something behind you, and you sat up to see what he was looking at. Just on the other side of the outside seating area, you recognized Mark Lee and Kim Jungwoo from Eric’s baseball team strolling past.
Mark lifted a hand, his mouth widening into a grin. “Hey, man! What’s up?”
Eric greeted his teammates with his usual cheeriness, clasping his hand with theirs.
“Oh my gosh, is this the���”
“The best friend,” Eric interrupted, his eyes darting to you. Both Mark and Jungwoo did the same thing, so now you were worried about why they were looking at you like that. “Yeah, this is Yn, my best friend.”
Jungwoo grabbed Mark by his shoulder and extended a greeting fist bump toward you. “Nice to finally meet you, Yn. Eric’s told us a lot about you.”
“Oh?” You glanced over at Eric before reciprocating the gesture. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Hope he’s only said good things,” you jested. Partly.
“Oh, all the good things; don’t worry,” Mark chirped. “We’ll see you at practice later, Eric!”
Eric lifted his hand in a wave as they continued down the street. “See you then!”
Once you were sure they were out of earshot, you picked up your sandwich again. “So you talk about me to your teammates?”
“All good things—you heard Mark,” he said with a laugh, but for some reason, you thought you detected a hint of uncertainty there. “How could I not talk about you?”
“Careful there, you’re starting to sound like you’re obsessed with me.”
“Well, maybe I am,” he shot back at you. He brushed the crumbs from his finished croissant onto the plate, reaching for the small stack of napkins between you two. “But seriously, don’t worry about what those guys said. They just like to mess with me.”
You lifted a shoulder in a meager shrug. “No worries, man. I’m obsessed with you, too, so the feeling’s mutual.”
You relished in the way his countenance noticeably lifted, his expression brightened, the corners of his lips curling into the apples of his pinkened cheeks like twin divots. All of a sudden it was just you and Eric, and you could forget about everything and everyone else.
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“He said the L word?” Vernon let out a melodramatic gasp, which made it all the more funny since he'd said it with the most monotonous tone. His eyes had gone wide enough to see the white of his eyes though, and you practically doubled over because of him.
Ningning, unaffected by Vernon's silliness, nodded vigorously. “He said he loved her first! Isn't that crazy?”
You plucked out one of your opened water bottles from the fridge. “I don't think it's that crazy. Is it weird that I don't think it's that crazy?”
Vernon sank deeper into the couch cushion he sat on, eyes already drifting closed. “It's Kim Sunwoo; I don't think it's that crazy either.”
“Am I the only person who was shocked by this?”
“Yes,” you and Vernon answered at once.
Ningning rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. I guess I can see it, too. But it's just weird because he never gave any indication that he even liked her.”
“He was probably just suppressing it?” Vernon offered with a yawn. “Maybe he's just got a lot on his plate. My friend Seungcheol's a little emotionally constipated, too, but it's 'cause he's been slammed by his work stuff.”
“Isn't it crazy that people our age are telling other people they love them already? Like, love-love, and not some kind of primary-school-playground-love.” You moved yourself to join your friends in your micro living room. There was a gathering of laptops and papers scattered on the coffee table, but no one had touched them since they'd been brought out. Finals week burnout was real and tangible.
“One day,” Ningning sighed, less so lovey dovey, and more so exhausted as hell. She leaned her cheek against the back of her knuckles. “I don't know if I wanna get married though.”
“I think marriage is cool,” said Vernon. He had now taken on a coffin position with his arms crossed firmly over his chest and his face tilted up toward the ceiling. “As long as it's with the right person.”
“Yeah, stuff like that can't be rushed,” you agreed. You weren't sure what your plans for the future were; you just hoped you had your friends by your side, at the very least.
All this talk about partners and futures had your mind turning toward your conversation with Eric from lunch the other day. Did he see this crush of his as a potential life partner? He deserved that—someone who loved him as much as he no doubt loved them. Where would that leave you? Didn't you want something like that, too?
“Let's not talk about marriage anymore.” Ningning fwumped onto her side over the remainder of the sectional that Vernon wasn't lying on. She'd clearly given up on studying, same as Vernon. “How's Eric doing, Yn?”
Your head perked up. “Eric? What about Eric?”
“Oh, I dunno.” She held her phone screen directly above her face as she scrolled through social media, her lips pressed together. “Chenle said that Mark said that he's interested in somebody.”
It seemed news traveled fast, but then again, you didn't know how long Eric had been interested in this mystery person. You blinked, gnawing on your bottom lip. “Ah, yeah. He mentioned something about that to me, but he didn't tell me who it was.”
Ningning turned her head slightly to face you and her eyebrow was flicked up toward her hairline. “You're serious?”
“Well, yeah. I'm not gonna force it out of him.”
Vernon peeked one eye open. “Dude, you know that guy would do anything for you, right? If you asked one more time, he probably would have folded like a lawn chair.”
You sent him a pointed look. “I'm not about to force him to give away something sensitive like that. I admit that I'm curious, but…” It just wasn't your business.
He frowned at you, then went back to his half-conscious state.
Were you missing something?
Ningning rolled over completely onto her side. “How about this: how do you feel about Eric being interested in someone?”
Why was this the sudden topic of discussion? You pursed your lips, eyebrows furrowing. “Is this a trick question?”
“Why would it be a trick question?”
You exhaled. “He said that the person he liked was one of the best people he knew, so I'm happy for him. Like I said earlier, it would be nice to know who it was, but I don't want to make him give up something if he's not ready to yet.” That would just be unfair.
Vernon opened his eyes again and turned to Ningning. “Doesn't this sound like an automated response?”
You deadpanned. “It is not an automated response. It's—y’know, why wouldn't I be happy for him?”
With a dead serious tone, your friends said simultaneously, “Because you're in love with him.”
That statement struck a match against your cheeks and set them ablaze. Your lips parted, words failing you. Because you're in love with him?
At your speechlessness, Ningning moved to sit up straight. “We think it's because you have feelings for him,” she rephrased, as if that was any better.
“I do not have feelings for him.”
“I think you do; you might be mistaking it as something else.”
You garbled with the words in your brain, but they slipped and fumbled and wouldn't line up correctly on your tongue. It was to the point that you had to put a pause on trying to come up with a retort, and rather, piece this together logically. There had to be a reason for why both Ningning and Vernon were on the same page with this.
It came to you then, slowly, like a train pulling into the station. It was every one of his flirtatious maneuvers to get you flustered, the bittersweetness you didn't want to acknowledge at the thought that he was interested in somebody else. It was that look in his eyes that you couldn't describe, the way he tripped over his words when it came to calling you a friend. The voice over the intercom was announcing the stop as the train came to a gradual halt.
“Oh.”
Ningning frowned slightly, her head nodding. Vernon was actually awake now. “Yeah.”
So what now?
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You knew Eric just finished with his organic chemistry final when you found him passed out on your couch. You'd been out working for the majority of the day and passed him a set of spare keys to your apartment to let himself in whenever he was done so the two of you could start your long awaited movie marathon night. The sun had just set and you'd come with a bag of groceries to make dinner, but all you could think about was the guy snoozing on the couch, his tufts of hair sticking out of his hood.
Cute.
By the time he woke up, you had dinner fixed up, and the apartment was filled with divine aromatics. Some said the smell of food usually made chefs feel full, but you hadn't eaten properly since you left for your shift this morning.
The lump on the couch stirred as you turned off the stove and turned toward the sink to start washing the dishes. You didn't like washing dishes, but it was a necessary evil. Earlier, you’d found the evidence that Eric had helped himself to some of the instant noodles in your cabinets, leaving a note by the dishes in the sink: Sorry, I promise I'll wash these when I wake up!!
You knew he would have kept his word, but you also knew how hard he worked and stressed over that damn exam. It was no inconvenience toward you to wash just a couple extra things.
Eric rolled onto his feet and shuffled into the kitchen, his eyes fluttering to adjust to the warm lighting. “Hi,” he rasped, voice hoarse from his nap.
His chin found your shoulder. “I said I'd wash those,” he murmured, referring to the small pot you were washing now.
“I know. I thought I'd do it anyway.”
“You hate washing the dishes.”
Your movements paused for a second. The organ in your chest was galloping away again, but now you knew the reason. Your head shifted slightly as it bumped against his gently. “I know.”
He was quiet for a moment before his arms came around your form and settled across your stomach and waist. “Thanks. Sorry for the mess.”
“There was no mess, silly goose,” you told him.
“I'll wash the ones after dinner.”
You murmured, “It's okay, Eric. I know you're good for it.”
Eric let out a breath against your neck, his head tucking into the warmth there. “I love you.”
At once, you both froze. You felt his body tense up around you, and knew your movements had stopped completely. You'd both heard what he said crystal clear and even the volume of the sink faucet couldn't dismiss it as a trick of the ear.
“Shit.” He detached himself from you just as you finished washing. You reached for the dry towel next to you on the counter to dry your hands, then turned around to face him. His eyes were wide like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I didn't say that aloud, did I?”
You smiled through a small wince. “You kind of did.”
“What if I left and pretended I wasn't even here?—”
You stepped forward and grabbed him by the shoulders. You gave him a little shake, the smile on your face sweetening. “Hey, Eric. I love you, too.”
His lips fell into a pout. “No, Yn. You—you don't get it. It's—I… I love you.”
“I know,” you said and moved your hands up to cup his face. There was a wobble in his eyes as you said this, that puppy pout deepening. “And I love you, too.”
Eric wrapped his arms around you tight then, a breath of air pushing out from his lips in utter relief. “Oh my god, you have,” he stammered, “no idea how—just—” He pulled away from you and pressed his lips to the side of your face.
You laughed, your hand coming up to cup the back of his head.
His face was split wide open by a massive grin and his eyes, his beautiful eyes, gleamed like a pair of twin stars beneath the dim kitchen lights. “Do you know how hard this has been for me?” He exclaimed while throwing his hands up in the air. “Do you know how much pain I was in when you couldn't get the hint—”
“Hey! Normal people don't just assume that their best friend has feelings for them,” you stuttered out in your own defense.
Eric tilted his head up to the ceiling. “I have literally flirted at you, right to your face.”
“You have a flirty personality.”
“And you are oblivious.”
You crossed your arms over your chest, your head cocking to the side. “Agree to disagree?”
He sighed and the sound was something happy and bright. “Agree to disagree,” he replied. He smiled at you again, but the corners were softer and mellower, the tenderness shining through like the glow of a lamp covered in a fabric shade. “I've been dying to tell you since I went to LA; I just didn't know how.”
“LA?” You parroted.
“I just couldn't stop thinking about wanting you there with me,” he said like it was the easiest thing in the world. “I'd be in the hotel room, staring up at the ceiling with the stupidest smile on my face thinkin’ 'bout you, and then I'd realize I actually was in love with you. It would flip-flop between those two things all trip long.”
You chuckled as you imagined Eric's starkly different facial expressions for each version of himself. It was an amusing thought. “Well, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for all the strife I put you through.”
His hands warmed over the sides of your arms. “Hey, honey, it was all worth it in the end.”
“You know,” you said, playing with one of the strings of his hoodie, and his hands came to rest around your waist loosely, “if the comfort and—the warmth and the happiness I feel around you is love, then I think I've been in love with you since the day we met.”
Eric's lips pressed in a deep pout again. “Come on! You can't possibly say that and not expect me to wanna kiss you.”
“I'm not saying no,” you teased.
There was that smile again. He licked his lips once and leaned over to gently press his mouth against yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you let his softness consume you and ignite you all at once. It occurred to you that you were never scared of losing Eric as a friend—this was just what was next for you both.
When you both pulled away, your breaths still intermingling, his cheeks were a pretty, bubblegum pink color.
“Was that your first kiss?” You joked even though you knew full well it wasn't.
His laugh was low, but his expression brightened. “Might as well be,” he said, “it's the only one I wanna remember.”
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Your tongue stuck out of the corner of your mouth as you carefully pulled the loops of ribbon through itself to create the perfect, matching bow to the one on the other side of your head. Chenle was hosting a start-of-summer party, and it was mandated that you and your friends attend (according to Ningning).
Through your mirror, your eyes caught a presence at your bedroom door. “Oh my god, you're so cute,” Eric groaned, turning to the side to melodramatically hit his head against the doorframe.
You melted into a smile. “Thanks. I wasn't really sure how they would look actually.”
“Well, they're perfect. You’re perfect. Please don't take them off.” He came over to join you were you sat on the floor in front of your body length mirror.
You wiggled around a strand of pink ribbon you had cut off earlier, but didn't end up using because it was way too long for a hair bow. “I've got an extra piece. Do you want it?”
He scoffed, a hand carding through his hair, “Of course, I want it.”
Very pleased with his response, you clambered onto your knees to decide where to put it. He was dressed casually with a loose tank top, board shorts, and a cap on backwards. You squinted one of your eyes closed. “I've got it.”
“You've got it?” He repeated with a chuckle, smile widening as you practically climbed into his lap. “Hi,” he said with your faces close to each other and his hands resting on either side of your waist.
“Calm down there, tiger,” you teased, “I'm just gonna tie it where everyone can see it.”
You looped the ribbon around his left bicep, his arm subtly flexing as you did so. You made sure the bow looked as perfect as you were capable of making it. With a little pat of your hand, you deemed that it was all set.
“Perfect,” he said with a nod of affirmation.
You nodded along with him. “I'd agree.”
“Hey.” He drew your attention over to him once more and his hands pulled you flush against him. There was a goofy grin on his lips as he gazed at you with wide, doe-like eyes that melted into pairs of molten chocolate. “Do you think…”
“Do I think?” You prompted, wrapping your arms around the back of his shoulders.
“Do you think that if I kissed you in front of our friends, they'd realize we were dating?”
A laugh fell from your mouth, and Eric had never seen something so pretty in his life. (There were few things worthy of being engraved on the backs of one's eyelids, but he thought he just found a view that was. He would chase your smile until the end of time.)
“What?” He beamed. “Good idea, right?”
“I thought we said we were soft launching,” you said, the smile yet to retreat.
“I guess,” he sighed dramatically and leaned back onto his hand to drape the other one across his forehead like a damsel in distress.
You went forward to kiss him. “You're cute.”
“Isn't that my line?” He teased. He licked his lips a little then, expression becoming thoughtful. “I know this is gonna be something different—this relationship—but at the same time, I feel like nothing's changed.”
Swoon. You went in for another kiss and lingered there a bit longer when his hand came up to cup the back of your neck. “It'll be different and the same,” you agreed. “Just better.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Definitely better.”
It was scary—this venture into new territory. It was something that both you and Eric would experience and discover together. But on the bright side, at least you were in love. Maybe that was all that mattered in the end.
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a/n: everybody say 'thank god she expanded the plot'
tbz m.list
permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @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 @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary
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kitkat11602 · 11 days
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The worst part was that you saw this coming and there was nothing you could do, this was it. This is how it goes. 
Your fingers hovered over the phone, screen illuminated by the soft glow of the device. Each tap of the keys felt like a final goodbye–it was a goodbye, a silent acknowledgment of the inevitable. 
The weight of the moment pressed down on you, a heavy burden you couldn’t shake. Memories cascaded through your mind like a restless tide, pulling you deeper and deeper into depths of sorrow and regret. You couldn’t help but remember all the times you shared together, the laughter that echoed through the room as you whispered confessions under the covers. But amidst the warmth of those memories, there lingered a bitter truth, a truth that you could no longer deny.
With trembling hands, you typed out your final farewell, a testament to the pain that gnawed at your soul. And as you hit send, the message vanished into the digital abyss, leaving behind an empty void as you closed out the message with your thumb hovering over the button to delete the contact. 
For a moment, you hesitated, the weight of your decision bearing down on you like a heavy stone. But then, with a resigned sigh, you pressed down, erasing the last remnants of your connection. As the contact disappeared from your phone, so too did the hope that had lingered in your heart. 
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sohnric · 2 months
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to. my first – k. sunwoo
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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.)
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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?”
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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?
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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.
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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.
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“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.”
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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.
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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?”
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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.
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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.
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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. 
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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.
408 notes · View notes
juyeonszn · 6 months
Text
BAD IDEA RIGHT?
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PAIRING lee juyeon x f!reader
WORD COUNT 4.10k
GENRES … smut
WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, literally porn with plot. like i’m so insane, enemies to “we fuckin” as reese put it 🥰, frat boy tbz again!!!, juyo is literally so irritating in the first half im not even gonna lie, he’s also a manwhore, making out, reader is a bit of a brat, juyeon has a dirty mouth, kinda dom!juyeon, vaginal fingering, oral (m! receiving), SHOWER SEX !12!1!, he’s hitting it from the back btw, unprotected sex, creampie, juyeon is actually… i don’t even know how to describe him writing his character made me want to claw at the walls lol
SUMMARY deep down you’re fully aware that you’re probably making a huge mistake by giving into juyeon just like every other girl on campus ever has. but paired with how intoxicating his mouth feels on your own and the steam filled bathroom clouding your head, you can’t seem to find a logical reason to stop.
MORE heheheh im back 🤭 oh my god this was actually the cause of a week full of sleepless nights. i genuinely drove myself crazy writing this bc NEED FRRRR like idk i’m so 😭 delusional. ANYWAYS. ANON. THIS ONE IS FOR U. U REQUESTED THIS AND I RAN WITH IT. u wanted more juyeon, i deliver more juyeon ;) also shout out to ally, moni, AND reese for beta’ing 🥺 i love u my cupcakes!! prompt used: 18 <3
PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble
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If there was anyone on Earth that you hated more than anything, it had to be Lee Juyeon.
To put things plainly, he was quite literally the bane of your existence. Being around him made your blood pressure skyrocket and gave you migraines that lasted for days. It was insane how one person could affect you so much by doing so little. It seemed as if he thrived off of getting under your skin.
Considering he was the captain and the pitcher of the baseball team, it wasn’t shocking. He was also a member of one of the most popular fraternities on campus. But he happened to be roommates with one of your best friends, and that made it ten times worse.
You’d known Changmin since third grade, along with Kevin and Chanhee. When he mentioned he’d be joining a fraternity in college, you were a bit apprehensive. All you knew about them was what you’d read in YA books and seen in movies. Neither gave them a good rep. Part of you wanted to talk him out of it, but you knew this was something you had to let him do, given you were adults and it was his college experience. At least you still had the other two under one roof.
The first time you met Juyeon was also the first time you attended a frat party. Changmin had just passed his initiation after waiting a year and he invited all of you to celebrate. You were excited for the most part since high school parties were more for an adrenaline rush due to the fact that your parents never let you go to them and you either snuck out or lied about going. You didn’t have to worry about the limitations of parents this go around.
The boys disappeared almost immediately upon arrival, leaving you to fend for yourself in the very crowded fraternity house. You could hardly pass through a room without bumping into somebody’s shoulder or elbow, huffing as you maneuver around the house equivalent to a sardine can. Your drink nearly spilled onto your top multiple times and you were glad you decided against the heels for the night.
You chugged the rest of the jungle juice in your cup as you stepped onto the patio, where it’s just as noisy and just as packed. You’re lucky enough to find an empty lounge chair near the house’s pool, unoccupied and calling your name. When your legs touch the plastic chair, you flinch at how hot it is, most likely from being in the sun all day.
“Woah, do you want a cushion?”
You look up at the source of the voice. You’ve seen him around campus before, and even at Changmin’s games. Lee Juyeon was just one of those people that you had to know, unless you’d been living under a rock. Just like everyone else in the world, you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. From this distance, you truly understood why girls would giggle like high schoolers over the guy.
“Uh, sure. Yeah, that would be great actually.” You nod, watching as he wanders towards the shed in the corner of the big ass backyard. He returns promptly, holding his red solo cup between his teeth and one hand on your lower back guiding you to a standing position so he could place down the cushion.
“As a thank you, can I get your name?” He gives you a cocky little smile that should’ve been a warning. And looking back on it, you should’ve seen his true personality sooner, to be completely honest. The way his lips curled at the corners, like a conniving bastard who got off on irritating others.
“It’s Y/N,” you say, messing with your empty cup. “I’d ask for yours, but I kinda already know.”
He laughs at that, scratching the back of his neck. “That’s not surprising.” It’s at this point that you’re starting to see through his sweet facade, but despite knowing better— despite always keeping your guard up— you let yourself fall for it just this once. All because you didn’t want to fuck things up for Changmin. He owed you big time.
“Well, you are a talented athlete.” You didn’t want to fuel what is probably already a massive ego, but you’d rather compliment his baseball skills than the fact that he was infamous for screwing around with half of the girls on campus. Technically, that was a feat of its own since he’d only been in school for a year.
“Oh, so you think I’m talented?” He rested a hand on your chair, leaning down to your level. Confidence oozed from every corner of his being and if you weren’t so self aware, perhaps you could’ve ended up like all those other victims of his charismatic behavior.
“I go to the games for Changmin,” you scoff, glancing away from his face to stop the heat rising up your neck. “I’ve only paid attention to you once or twice.”
“Yeah, sure. Let's go with that,” he bites his lip, blatantly checking you out. “I wouldn’t mind paying attention to you a little.”
“I’m unimpressed, Juyeon,” you snort, raising an eyebrow at him. “Does this shit really work on everyone?”
“I can drop the act if you want, baby. Just let me know when you’re ready to stop playing hard to get.” He stands upright, running a hand through his hair.
Every time you ran into Lee Juyeon after that, he was more and more insufferable. He knew his influence on you, too, if his smug fucking grin was anything to go by. You wish you could just slap it off of him. However, you stood by being the bigger person in any given situation, so that was off the table. (And half of you still felt a moral obligation to not get your friend into hot water.)
“Would it kill you to play nice every once in a while? I do live with the dude, you know.” Changmin whines, trailing you in the supermarket like a lost puppy.
“He’s got a point, N/N,” Kevin adds, humming as he tosses a boxed dinner into the cart. “I get that he’s a little bit of an overconfident douche, but rolling your eyes at him when he hasn’t even done anything just makes it worse on you. And JiChang, too, I guess.”
“Bro…”
You weren’t even sure why he decided to tag along with you and the other boys when you mentioned grocery shopping. In fact, he might as well have stayed his ass home if he was just going to gang up on you the whole time. Chanhee sighs dramatically, bringing your shopping cart to a halt.
“Can we not have a peaceful grocery trip? Is that impossible or something?” His lips form a thin line. “I swear, all we do is talk about how much Y/N hates Lee Juyeon. Can we please move on?”
“Thank you, Chanhee, I agree,” you nod along, walking backwards as you do so and ignoring the faces your friends make. “He makes me want to kill myself.”
“Who makes you want to kill yourself?”
You jump up, frightened by the sudden voice in your ear. Your friends all give you sheepish smiles, as if they’d already tried to warn you. (What shitty jobs they did.) With a hand over your heart, you turn around to meet— speak of the devil— none other than Lee Juyeon himself.
“What are you doing here?” Your eyes narrow and your arms cross over your chest. Luck could never be on your side when it came to this guy.
“Uh, last I checked, this was a public supermarket. Where I can publicly shop. I wasn’t aware that I had to run that by you. So sorry, sweetheart.” He pouts, his expression so theatrical you nearly give in to your constant urge to punch him in the face.
You feel your eye twitch, and it takes everything in you to step back and assess just how bad it would be if you committed murder right now. Changmin comes to your rescue, doing damage control as best as he can while Kevin attempts to talk you out of becoming a criminal.
The two frat brothers do their little fraternity handshake thing and then finally he’s out of sight, out of mind, allowing you to visibly relax. Chanhee purses his lips. “Okay, so maybe I do see where the anger comes from. And holy shit, Y/N, you have the patience of a saint.”
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“The person you have called is unavailable! At the tone, please leave a message. When you have finished recording, you may—”
“Goddammit.” You curse, ending the unsuccessful call.
The downside of working far from campus, was working far from campus. You didn’t have your own car and usually relied on one of your roommates for a ride to and from. But now here you are, stranded at work while it’s pouring cats and dogs outside. Kevin was in class and Chanhee wasn’t picking up his phone. You could call Changmin, but you’re pretty sure he also had a class around this time.
Just as you’re about to succumb to your demise, you receive a text from Chanhee.
[2:57 pm] michael jackson: IM SO SORRY AJNSSJNW BUT SOMETHING CAME UP WITH A GROUP PROJECT
[2:57 pm] michael jackson: DONT WORRY THOUGH, IVE GOT IT COVERED UR STILL GETTING PICKED UP
“Could today get any worse?” You mutter to yourself, locking your phone and tossing it into your purse. As if your timing couldn’t be better, you spoke entirely too soon. Your eyes squint at the unfamiliar car rolling up under the carport. Your brows furrowed in confusion, because you had no idea who could be your saving grace. Chanhee was a wild card so who knew who he had on speed dial.
But then the passenger window rolls down and you wish the ground would just swallow you whole. Lee Juyeon grins that stupid fucking grin of his, beckoning you to his car as it unlocks when he shifts into park. You shake your head.
“No way. There is absolutely no way I am getting into that car.” You shout over the pelting rain.
Juyeon tsks, his eyes rolling when he reaches over the center console to open the door for you. “Is there anyone else who would drop everything they’re doing to pick you up in this weather?”
Your lips pull into a flat line. The answer was no, you didn’t have anyone else who would drop everything they were doing to pick you up in this weather. That was the reason Juyeon was here, you supposed. It didn’t mean you weren’t at least going down without a fight, though. Except, Lee Juyeon was a man who was all too comfortable with how expressive you were. Most notably towards him.
“What? Cat got your tongue, sweetheart?”
“Fuck you. I’d rather walk.” You seethe, starting straight in the direction of your apartment. Juyeon groans at first, your constant need to prove yourself getting on his nerves for once. Then his eyes widen slightly when he realizes you’re not joking.
The truth was that the rain was freezing and you’d love to be in the shelter of a warm car. In fact, you didn’t really care that Juyeon was the person driving. But you were too deep into the bit now. You couldn’t just turn around and get in the car, for you had a pride to protect at this point.
“Shit.” Juyeon swears under his breath, reaching into the backseat to grab an umbrella. Sure he loved to tease you and rile you up, but he wasn’t cruel. Your friends would have his head on a silver platter if he let anything happen to you.
You pause in your steps when you’re no longer being showered in rain water. Juyeon holds the umbrella over your head with a worried expression. You feel kind of bad for making him chase after you even though he’d already gone out of his way to pick you up. Sometimes you wish your ego wasn’t so fragile. Maybe then you could accept help when you needed it instead of making things worse.
“Can you please stop being so stubborn and just get in the damn car, Y/N? Do you have to make everything difficult all the time?” Usually, pissing you off made him over the moon, but you can tell he’s not exactly pleased at the moment. You swallow thickly, nodding quietly and following him back to his car.
The whole drive to your apartment is silent save for the song playing on his speakers. It’s not as loud in comparison to the storm outside, but you’re grateful that it’s filling the space between you. If only Lee Juyeon hadn’t done such an excellent job ticking you off like a bomb, then maybe you would’ve just hopped in the passenger seat with ease. But no, he had to goad you until you made an irrational decision and now here you are.
As he pulls up to your building, you say a little prayer that you don’t regret your next actions. He stops as close to the stairs as he can, but you turn to him before unbuckling your seatbelt. With a deep breath, you ask, “Would you like to— uh— come inside?”
He glances from you to the stairs and then shrugs, parking in the nearest empty spot. He holds the umbrella over both of you as you make your way to your unit, lightly sprinting so you don’t get anymore soaked than you already are. You figured the least you could do was invite the dude into your home and offer him some hot tea, just so he could warm up before heading back to the TBZ house. Your roommates not being here to make fun of you was also a plus.
There’s still an unspoken tension even after you’ve shed your raincoats and shoes by the front door, settling into your apartment and its coziness. Juyeon sits at the breakfast bar as you busy yourself with preparing the kettle and getting a couple tea bags. His watchful gaze is a little intimidating now that you’ve seen his serious side.
Once you’ve finished making the tea, you set his mug in front of him. You look everywhere but him when you say, “I’m gonna take a shower if you’re okay waiting out here by yourself.” He doesn’t respond verbally, so you take it as your cue to leave.
You turn on the water to let it heat up before gathering your essentials. When you’ve completed your back and forth trip from the bathroom and your bedroom, you’re finally ready to just relax in your shower and forget about today’s events. But how could you ever truly relax with Lee Juyeon in your space, permeating your peace?
As you’re shutting the bathroom door, a foot jams itself between the threshold and stops you. You glance up from the floor to meet Juyeon’s eyes. They’re darker than you’re used to, a deep shade of brown that has your stomach twisting into knots.
“You know, Y/N, this game of cat and mouse is starting to get old,” he takes a step into the steaming room, locking the door behind him and trapping you. “Just admit to yourself that you want me.”
You sputter at his bold words, because you don’t. You don’t want Lee Juyeon. Why would you want Lee Juyeon? “I’m not gonna lie to myself. I don’t want you.”
He laughs humorlessly, closing the gap between you just a little more. You don’t have it in you to back away from him. He reaches a hand up to tuck some damp hair behind your ear. You’re still wet and cold from your stupid idea to walk in the rain, but Juyeon plans to warm you up perfectly. “You sure?”
“Positive,” you breathe.
“Why don’t we test that theory?” Now he’s got you backed into the wall, his face a hair’s breadth distance from your own. “I have a feeling I can change your mind.”
You don’t know if it’s the heat of the bathroom or Juyeon’s lips being so close, but so far simultaneously that has your brain turning into static. Your head feels fuzzy, like you’re watching TV on an empty channel through a blurry lens. You lick your lips, vision trained on his. “Why don’t we?”
That’s all the confirmation he needs to press your mouths together in a searing kiss, hotter than the temperature of the room. You feel him smile against you when you make no move to push him away, instead carding your fingers through his hair. He groans when you tug a bit, twirling the longer strands around your index.
His hands slip under your top, thumbs rubbing circles into your waist. This is a terrible idea. Deep down you’re fully aware that you’re probably making a huge mistake by giving into Juyeon just like every other girl on campus ever has. But paired with how intoxicating his mouth feels on your own and the steam filled bathroom clouding your head, you can’t seem to find a logical reason to stop.
When you part for air, you both start stripping your top layers, resuming your attacks on each other’s lips once you’re left in nothing but undergarments. Juyeon trails kisses along the side of your neck, nipping and sucking wherever he feels fit. You gasp when he finds that particular spot that contributes to the butterflies fluttering about your stomach. “God, you’re so annoying.”
“Yeah?” And despite getting ready to give you the pleasure of your life, his grin against your skin still manages to irritate you. “You hate me so much, huh?”
“Mhm,” you whine as his fingers dip beneath the band of your panties, toying with your sensitive cunt. “Hate you so bad— ah…”
“You might wanna shut up soon, sweetheart,” Juyeon warns, sliding his ring finger between your lower lips. “Or else I’ll give that mouth something to do.”
“I’ll do whatever I want,” you pull his hand from your underwear, kneeling in front of him when he furrows his eyebrows in confusion. Your nails scrape lightly down his abdomen before hooking into the waistband of his briefs, freeing him from the material. It takes a lot out of you to not visibly react at the sight of his cock, hard and flushed to the tip. You couldn’t dare inflate his ginormous ego, the situation you were currently in already doing enough on its own. His size is impressive too, making you wonder just how he expects you to take him like a champ.
“What a fucking brat,” he hisses, your tongue swiping along the underside of his dick. “Always gotta have the last word, don’t you?”
“Mmmm,” you moan, mouth full with just the tip. You’d never been the type of person who cared about size. As long as they knew what they were doing and made you finish, you held no qualms with their length. In fact, you don’t think you ever even paid much attention to anyone’s dick in your life. But if there was anything to back Lee Juyeon’s cockiness, it had to be, well, his cock.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined this moment,” he confesses, wrapping your hair around his hand into a makeshift ponytail. “But, fuck, this is so much better.”
The admission shoots straight to your core and you find yourself whimpering, the vibrations against his dick driving him crazy. He has to support his weight with one hand flat to the wall, the other still tightly fisting your hair. With every suck and flick of your tongue, he tugs a little more, the sting on your scalp providing you with more pleasure than pain. You pull off of him to take a breath, jerking him off as you do so.
“Am I meeting your expectations?” You bat your eyelashes up at him, drool sliding down your chin and makeup smeared under your eyes in tear streaks. He groans at the sight of you, forcing you to a standing position so he could kiss you again.
You start dragging him towards the shower, unhooking your bra and stepping out of your panties. He raises an eyebrow at you, amused. “You want me to fuck you in the shower, baby? Have you slipping all over my cock?”
“Duh,” you can’t help but roll your eyes at his question, practically pawing at his underwear to get him out of them fully. “Did you think I sucked your dick on the bathroom floor for fun?”
“That mouth of yours is gonna get you in trouble one of these days.”
He kicks them off, reconnecting your lips as you step into the shower. The hot water hits your back almost like a massage, synchronously getting in your mouth as you make out with Juyeon aggressively. It’s like he can’t get enough of you, big hands kneading and groping everywhere and nowhere all at once. You feel insane, especially with how good of a kisser he is. It’s like you’re on cloud nine and nothing’s capable of bringing you down.
When he’s finally lost his patience, he spins you around, pressing you cheek first to the shower wall. You feel him against your lower back, his lips leveling with your ear. In spite of acting as if he had himself under control, you can hear the pant in his breathing, deep voice a little desperate than usual. He has a hand gripping your thigh and picking up your leg.
“No protection?” He asks, his cock already gliding between your folds in anticipation.
“Mm-mm,” you shake your head as best you can with his body sandwiching you to the tiled surface. “Wanna feel you raw.”
“Fuck, you can’t say shit like that to me,” Juyeon groans into your ear, giving no warning as he spits down your front and hikes your leg higher, thrusting into your cunt. “You’ll make me wanna stay buried in you forever.”
You moan, hand coming up to hold the side of his head as he fucks you into the shower wall. If someone were to ask about this very moment, you weren’t too sure how you’d defend yourself. A moment of weakness, perhaps? But if a moment of weakness felt this fucking good every time, you might fall into a habit of judgment lapses.
He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, nibbling and biting your shoulder and the surrounding area with each snap of his hips. The angle he drives into you at has stars forming at the back of your vision, the tip of his cock brushing that one spot deep inside of you whenever he thrusts up. You don’t even think his entire dick is in you as he does this, but you also don’t really have the mind to care, way too focused on memorizing the veins of his shaft with your walls.
You’re far too gone to consider the consequences of your actions, the horizon of your release just beyond your fingertips now. You’d never needed someone so viscerally before, so carnally. Yet here you were, sucking Lee Juyeon’s cock in with your pussy like you were a damn vacuum. The sounds you’re making bounce back and forth on the walls, no doubt louder than the shower water itself.
“I— I-I’m so— fuck,” you mewl, words wobbling. “I’m so, so close, Juyo.”
“Yeah, baby?” He sighs in your ear, nudging your sensitive clit with his thumb while raising your leg as much as he physically can. “Me too, where do you want me?”
“Inside,” you don’t think you even make sense anymore, babbling as he continues to fuck you stupid. “Please. Want you to cum inside me.”
Juyeon grits his teeth, pleased with himself that he didn’t orgasm right then and there. He uses his last ounce of strength to get the two of you off together. “C’mon, sweetheart, cum for me.”
The fogginess subsides pretty quickly after you’ve finished, your brain registering what just happened almost instantaneously. If you weren’t so hypersensitive, you would’ve pulled him out yourself and scrambled to flee the scene. (And maybe even the country.) There are many more rational thoughts running through your head now. The entire trajectory of your life has just been changed, whether you realized it or not. But the biggest issue was:
What the hell do you do now?
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© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.
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itsbeeble · 4 months
Text
TRY HARD
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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.
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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.
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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. 
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“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. 
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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.”
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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?”
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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. 
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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.”
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cloverdaisies · 2 months
Text
HOW TO SURVIVE SENIOR YEAR ☆
ERIC SOHN x reader 𝜗𝜚𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔
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˗ˏˋ description:ˎˊ˗જ⁀➴ৎ୭ : a chaotic how to guide on surviving high school with an 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 crush on the skater boy with the locker next to urs.
˗ˏˋ genre: ˎˊ˗જ⁀➴ৎ୭: pretty much chaos & fluff !
⋆ ˚。⋆୨ ʚ word count: ɞ ୧⋆ ˚。⋆: 5.4k+
⋆ ˚。⋆୨ ʚ dt : ɞ ୧⋆ ˚。⋆: for bar! @sohnric sorry it’s so late ! ! yk, e v e r y t h i n g that’s been going on & i’m sure you don’t mind! merry late c h r i s t m a s i <3 u very much, i tried to incorporate everything for you… i think these prompts definitely reached the right person!! ৎ୭… so for my bar ! ! …..
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# FRIDAY 21ST SEPTEMBER 1996
# MORNING! 🌥️
The unbearable series of screeching from the school bell, cued the sound of wheels scraping against the pavement outside. A pair of blue cargo jeans complimenting a classic pair of red jordan’s glued themselves to a skateboard as it began flipping and jumping curbs. The wire of a walkman dangling, the flimsy headphones leaking sounds of a noisy guitar through the hallway of the school.
“Eric Sohn. No skating in the corridor and you’re late to class.” A nerdy-looking hallway monitor approached the skateboard wielding boy, holding out some form of citation for Eric to sign with a wavering hand.
“I’m not signing that.” He laughed, snatching the sheet making sure to crumple it into a tight ball before throwing it behind him. “You didn’t see me. Thank me later.”
The hall monitor, whose name tag read ‘Younghoon’ looked down with eyeballs bulging from his skull at the cigarette in his palm, tears pricking his waterline. Eric continued to skate the corridors to his homeroom, biting into an apple with that jaw of his that had to have been sharpened by the gods-
at least…. that’s what you saw….
Eric was a childhood crush of yours, considering you two lived on the same street growing up and you still vividly remember the heart eyes that pumped from your skull when you watched him play basketball on his driveway from your windowsill every night after school. Everything he did was enchanting, he made the simplest things look hot and his charm was next level too.
As for what Kevin sat next to you was seeing: just some dude burping and blowing it into his friends face afterwards.
In your sick love fantasy, you still thought he was the funniest most angelic man to first stick his feet in the soil of the earth.
“If you wanna survive senior year, you need to stop staring at him like that. it’s gross and it’ll leave you the minute it gets heart eyes for anything else. How many times can we have this conversation?” Kevin laughed and scribbled down, ‘1. NO F**K BOYS (especially Eric Sohn)’ in bright red ink at the top of your page.
“So!” Your homeroom teacher waltzed into the room with a wide grin glowing from cheek to cheek. “The class of 96’ how do you feel?! Your time at this school is almost over! Some of us are setting good examples, sat in our actual chairs and not the table Mr. Sohn?”
You giggled as Eric turned with a sigh, crossing his arms and sinking into his seat, secretly you hoped he would catch eyes with you just for a second and share a smile. However, the boy just put his headphones back on and slammed his head on the wooden desk as if he were to fall asleep.
You looked down at the diary where,
“ 1. NO F**K BOYS ”
had been written so passionately by Kevin and thought, if you’re gonna make senior rules, you should at least make the best high school ‘how to’ guide the world has ever seen.
——
The entire school day, word had gotten about ‘Kyu’s first party of the semester’ renowned for his crazy mansion of a house, and parents that were home a concerningly small amount of the time. Happening tonight, you hadn’t even thought about what you were gonna wear yet, or the fact that Kyu himself was Eric’s bestfriend.
Eric had a rather large friend circle of boys in your year, from Juyeon who was into sports to Jacob who was a bit of a music nerd and closer to Kevin if anything. Despite this, neither you or Kevin had received an invite to Kyu’s house for later that day.
# LUNCHTIME ! 🍛
Filling your metal tray and sitting next to Kevin on the end of one of the empty lunch hall tables, before you you could even begin biting in the panini you’d paid for, it was snatched out of your hand by...
“Sunwoo, that was my sandwich.” You groaned, looking at your empty plate and then back at him with a glare. “Do you not have your own food?”
“This looked nicer than my food, just have it back.” He shrugged dumping the half eaten sandwich back on your plate.
“Oh no it’s all yours.” You smiled sarcastically watching as he smiled and took the sandwich back in one animalistic gulp.
“So sorry about that y/n. Isn’t he just awful? I got you a new one.” Hyunjae, as if the entire scene was staged, sits beside you with his hand smoothly rested on his cheek. He pushed a new sandwich in front of you with a carton of orange juice sat at the top of the tray.
You rolled your eyes before you almost tripped over your comically untied laces (how did both of them end up that way?) You flew backwards only to be caught by Hyunjae, once again returning to his cringey script.
“Falling for me, I see?” He smirked lifting you back to your feet as you sat down to retie your laces that had been undone by someone at some point in time.
“Is this just going to happen every lunchtime?” You cocked an eyebrow with a huff, tying bunny ears in your converse and briefly looking back up to the boy.
“Of course, however each time it just gets more creative.” He smiled confidently, you were unaware that these were romantic gestures since Hyunjae made it seem like one big joke with his extravagant concepts.
“Please make it stop.” You rolled your eyes and tucked into the new sandwich, Kevin laughing to himself. You began to zone out as you noticed Eric from across the canteen, sat on the table skateboard propped up and talking to his friends. He looked at you momentarily with a smile before you were interrupted by Hyunjae waving his hand in front of your face.
“Are you guys coming to kyu’s?” Hyunjae asked, biting into his own.
“No. We’re not cool enough.” Kevin began to fake cry, wiping invisible tears and squealing in a high pitched whine.
“He said anyone can come, of course you guys are invited. When has he ever asked anyone?” Sunwoo added punching Kevin the back lightly and taking a seat at the table. “Just show up.”
As lunch ended, you found yourself digging through your locker for the biology notes you’d written the other day. However as you dug through your shelf you just couldn’t find them.
“What you looking for?” A deep voice alarmed you, looking up to see Eric Sohn throwing his jacket in the locker that belonged to him next to yours.
“Oh. Uhm.” You stuttered for a moment, wondering if your eyes and ears were telling you the truth. “Just some notes for biology, we have a test coming up.”
“Oh yeah, you can borrow mine for now. Just slot them back in my locker on Monday.” Eric passed you a few pieces of A4 with neatly printed notes, the cigarette resting on his lips bobbing as he spoke.
“Thanks, that’s uh, really kind of you.” You smiled as he shook his head nonchalantly.
“It’s nothing, don’t stress.” He added before breezing past you to the exit of the school with a confident stride in his steps, his skateboard under his arms.
# EVENING 🌌 :📍Y/N’s HOUSE
“Okay so what are you wearing?” Kevin asked turning around in his sequin shirt and jeans, complimenting his outfit with a crossbody bag and sunglasses.
“Uhm. Not sure yet. Might go for baggy jeans and a sequin top too.. I have a lot.” You showed Kevin the options, watching as he scratched his chin and looked between them.
જ⁀➴ৎ୭ OUTFIT OPTIONS:
(feel free to mix & m a t c h!)
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“Gorgeous!” Kevin smiled, fixing you a few necklaces of his behind your neck. You smiled and looked in the mirror briefly before setting off down the block.
The house pulsated the entire street as guests spilled in the front door to the infectious rhythm playing at max volume from the many speakers around the house. A kaleidoscope of vibrant lights drowned the space, as drinks circulated everyone from the kitchen.
House parties tended to be like some sort of cringe trashy and incomprehensible version of a homecoming dance for adults that you couldn’t seem to understand. Sure they were fun but, high school students embarrassing themselves sure wasn’t.
“Hey Kevin.” A very drunk Ji Changmin sauntered over to us at the entrance, “Who’s the plus one?”
As Changmin looked over with his devilish glare, apart of you started to get nervous. As if you were mixing with the wrong crowd, a gentle flip in your stomach warned you, something was about to go incredibly wrong.
“Hi, I’m y/n.” You introduced yourself with a smile, as he passed you a beer from the many in his arms.
There was one thing that would determine whether someone would survive senior year: alcohol.
“2. PARTIES = STATUS”
Probably one of the most screwed survival tips, but unfortunately for teenagers who were just short of legal age a sip of liquor was enough to emphasise them as ‘cool’. Even if drinking is not your thing, the general consensus of being popular in senior year was to attend parties, host them and make lethal mistakes whilst there.
Throughout the night, you and Kevin found yourselves bouncing from group to group eventually watching Sangyeon and Juyeon play the most intense game of cup pong ever played in the competitive sports world.
♫ ANOTHER NIGHT - REAL MCCOY playing from speakers ♫
“Do you wanna take this one?” Sangyeon asked, holding the ping pong ball in front of you with a raised eyebrow.
“Me?” You asked laughing from the sidelines as he nodded, standing up properly you walked towards the table where most eyes were fixed on the table.
You’d gotten the grips of how to play, grasping the ball with a nervous clench before watching as Juyeon stared down the table with a sly smirk, his arms folded over his white tank top.
Bouncing off the table the ball hit the top of the few cups cups before landing in the fourth, making Juyeon’s total three. The crowd watching laughed as Juyeon threw his head back in defeat, taking the cup and gulping down its contents.
“Taking advantage of beginners luck is dirty play.” Juyeon shook his head at Sangyeon who laughed knowingly. “Whatever. If I land this you’re drinking this.”
Sure enough, as Juyeon bounced the ball across the table it landed in one of the two cups left leaving one. You’d hoped he’d missed not wanting to get to drunk around a group of people you’d never met. Nevertheless you took the cup and necked it’s contents, with a cheering crowd. Juyeon eventually won against Sangyeon, seeing the close of world’s most competitive game of cup pong.
A few drinks through the night, your brain chemistry had already began buzzing and the socialite in you stepped out of hiding, as you spoke to almost everyone you encountered. Hearing commotion from the living room, you dragged Kevin to investigate.
The room buzzed with anticipation as people gathered in a circle, forming a tight-knit group. Nervous giggles filled the air, drowned out by the music playing in the background. Sunwoo placed a bottle in the center of the circle, ready to determine the first pair of an early game of ‘spin the bottle’.
With a flick of his wrist, the bottle spun, its rotation echoing the excitement in the room. Hearts raced as it slowed down, pointing towards its chosen target. The room held its breath as the Sunwoo locked eyes with a girl he’d had a crush on for most of his childhood, their cheeks flushing bright pink as he made eye contact. With a playful smile, Sunwoo picked out one of the ‘fates’ written in the hat, revealing the crumpled paper to the crowd.
“Kiss.” He laughed nervously, smiling as she was, the circle squealed in anticipation. He leaned in to give her peck which raised a “booo” from the crowd at the underwhelming gesture.
“Y/N JOIN IN.” Hyunjae yelled from the group, causing the circle to laugh at how pathetic he was. You jokingly stepped behind Kevin to hide as “Join” began to be chanted in the room, persuading you to sit down in a gap made by Hyunjae and Haknyeon.
You took the bottle and spun it, the booze causing nerves to disappear. As the bottle began to slow down, Hyunjae grabbed the glass pointing it towards him - no one protesting considering this was his life long goal.
You sighed, hoping the paper in the hat wouldn’t do you dirty in this situation, looking up you noticed a familiar figure. Eric’s eyes stared down at you, stood from the other side of the circle, rested against the mantlepiece in his tank top and baggy jeans - a bottle of beer gripped loosely in his hands.
All of a sudden, your hands began to shake in adrenaline, Hyunjae’s eyes wavering as he noticed the way you looked up at the other boy. You began to unfold one of the pieces of paper from the hat, “7 minutes in heaven” you could have screamed. This was truly a worst case scenario, as the circle cheered and Sunwoo ushered the two of you to the bathroom.
Hyunjae locked the door with a sigh, sitting both legs in the bathtub and taking a lengthy swig of his beer in a saddened manner.
“Are you not going to do anything?” You asked curiously, folding your arms and taking a seat on the toilet cover.
“No.”He sighed, resting the bottle on the side and turning to look at you with an inquisitive stare, his eyebrows furrowing as if they contemplating internal questions.
“Why not?” You asked further, leaning forward as Hyunjae’s confident demeanour seemed to have suspiciously faltered.
“I see the way you look at him.” He suddenly spat, as if something within him snapped. “You’ll never give it up will you. Everyday, I do something to make you laugh, smile and show you someone cares. Yet… Every time I try, you’re still staring at that motherfucker who wants nothing to do with you.”
“Sorry?” You asked almost confused, the outburst seemingly unnecessary as he went to speak again but was interrupted by an ominous banging at the door.
“I get you guys are probably exchanging cooties in there, but I need to shit.” The sweet sound of Haknyeon’s charming voice and vocabulary echoed through the bathroom causing you to hold back a laugh in the situation.
“Listen y/n. I need to ask a favor.” Hyunjae proposed, stopping you from reaching for the handle of the door. “My parents have been bugging me about having a girlfriend, since my brother has one now and they’re telling me I’m a good for nothing man who will never be able to commit to someone. Which is kind of true. But will you pretend to be my girlfriend to get them off my back?”
“Will I? Hmmm….” You pretend to think for a second before retorting with a loud. “NO.”
“Please. I’ll help you get him, I’ll do everything I can to help you win Eric over. I’m one of his bestfriends.” Hyunjae’s eyes glistened in genuine sparkle, an expression you’d only come across once or twice in your life.
“I’ll think about it. But for now, it’s not a yes or a no.” You closed the conversation, head spinning as you opened the door, Haknyeon spilling into the bathroom and beelining straight for the toilet.
“3. DONT PRETEND TO BE SOMEONE’s GIRLFRIEND WHILST YOUR TRYING TO GET THE ATTENTION OF THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE.”
Oddly specific rule, however as you proceeded down the stairs it seemed you wouldn’t have to convince people you were dating - their dirty minds had already assumed what had happened in that bathroom.
“You’re on.” You looked back at Hyunjae with a smile before linking arms with Kevin to leave, the party only dying down in the early hours of the morning.
# SATURDAY 22ND SEPTEMBER 1996
# MORNING 🌥️
The gentle rays of sunlight peeked through the curtains, birds began chirping outside, and the comforting aroma of breakfast drifted from the kitchen. Your eyes stuck together and your head booming with music from the night before, on the floor Kevin was sprawled emitting gentle snores.
The sound of a car horn outside, immediately brought you to your senses, with your fingers your gently moved the curtain to see Hyunjae leant against his car.
“Your dating Hyunjae?” Kevin asked, giving you the fright of your life as he appeared over your shoulder.
“No.” You immediately refuted, getting shivers from the sickly idea of having to date such a inferior choice of male.
“So why’s he here?” Kevin asked with a sarcastic voice, laughing at the stupidity of the scene.
“We’re dating but like just so his family gets off his back.” You sighed, standing up out of bed and beginning to make yourself look more presentable.
“You’re FAKE dating, Hyunjae?” Kevin’s jaw dropped even more than it already was if that was even possible. “That isn’t gonna look good to lover boy now is it?”
“Listen, he’s helping me get him. He’s on the inner circle, if I have a chance of getting Eric this is it.” You sighed taking your clothes to change in your arms.
“I’m calling Jacob.” Kevin suddenly added, pulling out his nokia with its antenna.
“Don’t you dare he said don’t call unless it’s emergencies, he’s in exam mode.” You recalled, knowing Jacob is practically unreachable during exam season.
“This is an emergency.” Kevin emphasised each word with a sarcastic edge.
“It’s not and if you call him, I’ll make your life so difficult.” You pointed at the boy with a warning finger before walking out to meet Hyunjae in front of his car.
♫ ALL THE SMALL THINGS - BLINK 182 playing from the car radio ♫
“Hey.” You smiled, climbing into the passenger seat of his car, the soft top rolled down so the breeze would eventually leave you wind swept. “Where we heading?”
“Bowling with my parents.” Hyunjae grumbled, more than happy you were in his car but visibly stressed with the entire situation.
“Is this all I have to do and I’m not your girlfriend anymore?” You suggested, leaning your head on the side of the car and letting the wind catch your face.
“Should be. Then I’ll tell you all about him.” Hyunjae chuckled, one hand on the steering wheel and another raking through his hair.
The bowling alley downtown was lively, decorated with neon lights and the sound of crashing pins. The smell of hot dogs and nachos wavering faintly in the air. The lanes are filled with laughter and ‘friendly’ competition.
Hyunjae swiftly introduced you to his mother and father, who looked you up and down before sending him an impressed smile.
“I’ll have to warn you dear y/n, they both get a bit competitive.” Hyunjae’s mother smiled as Hyunjae age his dad began squaring up to each other in the lane.
Whilst you were putting on your shoes, you felt a pair of eyes on you from somewhere unable to tell where.
“Hey y/n!” A familiar cheerful voice greeted you, looking up shell shocked you saw Eric, dressed in his work uniform with a lollipop. You felt your heart shatter, Hyunjae had to know he worked here, he set you up, but why?
Eric looked gorgeous in uniform you had to say, his pinstriped shirt and jeans complimented by the blue cap. However, you had bigger issues.
“You on a date with Hyunjae?” He asked, polishing a pair of shoes behind the counter next to you, happening to notice how pretty his hands were. “You look pretty, he’s a lucky guy.”
What did he say?
“Oh Eric! You met my girlfriend! This is y/n!” Hyunjae wrapped an arm around you with a condescending smile, for you everything felt as if it had frozen in time.
Eric swivelled the lollipop in his mouth for a moment, observing the look of shock you’d tried to conceal with a smile on your face and chuckled to himself.
“Landed a nice one there haven’t you buddy?” Eric almost began to patronise his bestfriend, a look of suspicious nature hidden in his big smile like a cheshire cat.
“I’m just going to go to the bathroom.” You giggled before excusing yourself to the toilets across the arena with a nervous pace.
“Well that backfired.” A voice sounded, someone pulling you back from one of the booths in the canteen. Kevin and Jacob sat like spies with sunglasses tuxedos and newspapers had been watching the entire time.
“He set me up.” You sighed putting your hands in your head. “I know he’s jealous of him but i didn’t think he’d go this far.”
“It’s Hyunjae. This is probably hilarious content to him.” Kevin rolled his eyes as Jacob nodded along, them both peering around the corner to watch the scene unfold.
“Y/n have you ever considered that Eric might like you?” Jacob asked taking his sunglasses off to look at you properly before you answered.
“He definitely doesn’t like me like that, maybe as a friend?” You suggested, twiddling your thumbs together over the wooden surface.
“Well he doesn’t seem to like the entire you and Hyunjae thing.” He added looking back over to the icy conversation between the two boys at the check in desk - Hyunjae’s parents stepping in to tell him they were ready to play.
“How can you tell?” You furrowed your brows in confusion, waiting for the reply as he began to speak.
“Duck! He’s coming.” Kevin quickly hid you under table covering you with his jacket as they both got back to their newspapers.
“Kevin?” The sound of Hyunjae’s voice from above the surface startled. “You seen y/n anywhere?”
“No? I saw her come in with you.” Kevin cleverly redirected the question allowing the boy to shrug and walk in a different direction looking for you.
“I told you these disguises wouldn’t work, we needed the moustaches.” Kevin hissed across the table to Jacob, the both of them having watched a few too many over the summer.
“Listen what do I do? Because I can’t tell Eric I’m fake dating Hyunjae because then he’d find out I was doing it because I have a stupid little thing for him!” You exclaimed, frustrated as you’d fell right in to Hyunjae’s trap.
“4. DON’T FALL FOR YOUR CRUSH’S BESTFRIENDS BLACKMAIL”
“I wouldn’t call it little. But hope things work out for you!” Jacob smiled angelically ignoring the pain shimmering in your eyes.
“Me too!” They began to gather their things ave scramble, about to take flight from the situation.
“Where are you guys going?” You asked panicked they were about to ditch you and leave the sticky situation.
“Getting you out of here.” Kevin replied taking your arm and sprinting out of the nearest exit - they may have set an alarm off for opening a fire door but oh well.
“5. DO HAVE FRIENDS THAT WILL GET YOU OUT OF SITUATIONS YOU CAUSED YOURSELF”
# MONDAY 24TH SEPTEMBER 1996
After hibernating in your bed for the rest of the weekend and 13 times Kevin had tried to ring the landline to check if you were okay. It was time to face them all at school and you could not think of anything worse.
“Oh my god. It’s aliveeee.” Kevin acts out a poor excuse of a Frankenstein impression as you laughed and breezed past him to your locker.
“If you see Hyunjae hide me.” You chuckled as he signed ‘rodger that’ with a salute and began rambling about the pasta he cooked for dinner the night before.
All of a sudden you were pushed into the locker, Kevin stood in front on you casually reading a book as Hyunjae walked by with a question mark above his head. He didn’t bother asking where you were, assuming if you weren’t with Kevin you weren’t there at all.
You eventually broke free of the hiding spot, fixing your hair and brushing down your clothes. The sound of wheels rolling down the corridor coming to a halt beside you.
“Were you?-” Eric was about to ask but refrained considering Kevin was signing ‘cut’ and ‘shush’ behind you flailing his arms around like a maniac.
“Here’s your notes.” You smiled, a touch of pink rising to your cheeks as your hand grazed his defined one, the notes you’d borrowed in pristine condition.
“Thanks, cutie.” He smiled, the nickname causing you to freeze up in your tracks, you knew he only said it out of courtesy or like the others that was ‘just his personality’ but it made your heart melt - as you watched him skate down the corridor, his biceps flexing to maintain balance.
You managed to survive your classes without being berated by Hyunjae or any of his friends, having to sadly eat lunch in a cubicle surely wasn’t a high moment of yours.
Soon the bell was sounding for the end of the day as students flocked out of the grounds excited for the school’s baseball match that evening.
“There she is!” You heard an annoyingly shrill voice yell from behind you, as you were about to cross the car lot. Behind you was Eric Hyunjae and Juyeon, walking in a line towards you whilst Eric was on his skateboard.
“Told you I saw her.” Eric laughed as you were clearly avoiding Hyunjae at all costs, you turned with a bitter smile as they got closer.
“You coming to Eric’s big game tonight?” Juyeon asked giving a friendly elbow to Eric, clearly nervous as it was the first big game of the season.
Eric looked at you with an ounce of hope, only to be quickly shot down, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes sparkled at the idea.
“No she’s actually got a date with me.” Hyunjae answered for you with a snide tone, eyes flickering towards you.
“No,no. I think I’ll go.” You smiled, “I really like baseball.”
“I don’t wanna interrupt you guys.” Eric looked between you both with something suspicious lingering behind his eyes as he turned his baseball cap to the left.
“You’re not interrupting us! Perhaps this ‘date’ can be on the pitch.” You suggested looking at Hyunjae’s wide eyes, knowing his plan was falling to pieces but he couldn’t disagree, not in front of everyone.
“Cool.” Eric smiled smugly, “See you there.”
You watched as him and Juyeon walked to the pitch for pre-match practice. Not wanting to spare Hyunjae anymore time, you walked at lightning speed in the direction of your house, ignoring him yelling your name from behind you.
“Y/n give me a second.” Hyunjae caught up to you on the sidewalk, grabbing your arm to turn you around. “You don’t have to do this anymore, go get him. It’s clear you’ll always love him and I can’t change that. I’m sorry, I took it too far.”
Despite the fact you appreciated the apology it seemed as if it was a little to late, he’d already tried to bring everything crashing down between you and Eric and now he thinks the both of you are on a date at his game. You smiled at him and nodded, swiftly turning on your heels and rushing home.
# LET’S GO H A W K S, LET’S G O O O !!🏟️
The chanting of cheerleaders and commotion amongst the crowd sang from outside of the pitch, Kevin and Jacob having already bought snacks rushed to a bench with good sight of the pitch.
“I’m so excited for this, there’s literally no way we lose.” Kevin watched as your school team walked out on to the pitch, immediately spotting Eric and making smoochy faces at you.
You didn’t notice too much of Kevin’s torment, as you were captivated by the sight of him. Eric looked up at the bleachers as if he was scanning the crowd for someone in particular his eyes landed on you for a moment - or Kevin maybe even Jacob.
The game commenced, no home-runs were scored by the competition and our team was not looking to beat them either. Time was running out as the ball left the hand of the pitcher, Eric stood in formation waiting for the ball to reach him. He swung the bat behind him and hit the ball with astonishing force triggering a roar from the crowd. He made a run for it, it was a home-run, the winning home-run.
“Go get him girl.” Kevin said as the players began to leave the pitch, watching as you ran off immediately to find him.
You patiently waited outside the locker rooms for him, knowing the other players would be tossing him around and winding him up. He eventually emerged from the lockers, wet hair and a towel around his neck.
“Can I talk to you?” You asked as he caught eyes with you, confused to why you’d waited.
“Sure, where’s Jae?” He asked, following you as you began to walk to somewhere more private.
“I’ll explain all of that.” You sighed, looking back at the boy for a moment, feeling your heartbeat pause in time as the sunlight hit his skin.
You both made your way under the bleachers, Eric already making a joke about what happens underneath them before even getting there.
“Eric. I have to say this otherwise one day I’m going to implode.” You began, your heart facing the adrenaline kicking through your veins and it was as if a theme park was screaming in your stomach. “I like you.”
A silence sat amongst you, the conflict in his eyes bouncing back and forth making you increasingly apprehensive for what he was about to say.
“Y/n I can’t do this to Hyunjae. Listen I really like you but that’s my-” Eric tried to collect himself, holding on to the top of the bleachers with one arm and wiping his forehead with the other.
“Eric we’re not dating! I know you can see that.” You pleaded with him, watching as his gorgeous eyes twisted to confusion.
“You’re not?” He asked, more than confused.
“No…. I agreed to ‘fake’ date him to get his parents off his back and to get to know more about you. But.. he took it too far and I think he might’ve been jealous I liked you.” You admitted, chewing your bottom lip and looking anywhere but at the boy fresh off the pitch in his baseball uniform.
“I don’t know because what if you’re lying to me.” He suggested, you couldn’t get offended because what if you were?
“Eric you’ve known me since we were kids I wouldn’t lie to you, I wouldn’t get anything out of doing that.” You reassured him, watching him contemplate ideas in his head as if mini cogs were turning.
“Y/n I know I don’t show it, but I really was interested in you but Hyunjae I couldn’t hurt him. Do you mind if I?” He asked, pulling you closer to him with his back leant up against the metal beam behind him.
“Of course I don’t.” You smiled, your voice barely above a whisper as you watched that beautiful grin of his spread across his lips, his brown eyes sparkling down with the sunset peaking through the gaps of the rows.
He kissed you, so sweetly, so gently, holding your face with the palm of his hand and bringing your waist closer as your stomach flipped and your heart filled with love. As you parted he brought you into his arms, it was the warmest hug that just felt as if everything was right.
“Now that you’ve said it, it makes sense. I’ve never seen someone avoid their boyfriend so much until now.” He laughed thinking of the time you escaped the bowling alley with Kevin and Jacob and further went to extreme lengths to avoid him at school too.
You giggled in his arms, looking up to his face that smiled back down at you, gently moving in for another kiss.
“I think I won twice today.” Eric laughed, giddy with excitement the grin on his face practically beaming from ear to ear.
That’s how you sort of survived senior year.
tagging: @juyeonszn @deobienthusiast 🤍
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