#you are all good friends and I appreciate the part you’ve made in my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

inklore · 1 year

Text

code breaker

premise: there’s always been something there, between the two of you. unspoken and filling in the cracks of those moments where joel is helping you out of a tough situation and your offering up a thank you and sweet smile. if only it didn’t take bloody knuckles and some band-aids to finally crack the code of that something.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, smut with feelings really, fem receiving oral, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mentions of violence and blood, alcohol mention, toxic exes and relationships discussed, dirty talk, biting and love marks mention, lots of banter, au (preoutbreak).

note: i meant for this to be darker but it turned out wayyy more fluffy and i’m actually really happy about it. i hella edited this but it still feels choppy so if it is i’m sorry ya girl has bad eyes lmao. gif made by me so don’t be an ass and steal it tysm <3

There’s words you should be saying right now. Expressing. Spilling from your mouth in a heap of thank you, I appreciate you, what would I do without you always being there for me…

But they just can’t seem to come out. The speech part of your brain—and your heart—aching and prompting you to speak. To show courtesy, your vocal cords refuse to let you get out. Like your mouth has forgotten its purpose, your throat hoarse from screaming Joel’s name in the chaos of thrown fists, people shouting, men trying and failing to haul Joel’s weight off of the bloodied body below it.

The blood on his knuckles pulls your eyes in like a neon sign: caked, dark, and drying the longer the air gets to it. If it hurts Joel doesn’t state it—show it as he grips the steering wheel. You’ve never thrown a punch before, have never seen something like this up close and personal. You excelled at resolving conflicts before they arose. Never let arguments get past the phase of unfair yelling. But you would assume his knuckles must be aching, even if only a dull pounding.

You know for certain your ex's face is.

Good.

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the bar, your job. Hadn’t expected him to start in on the possessive act—coincidently the local patrons were less than surprised at the all-too-cliché behavior. The town having labeled him as bad news ages ago. Something you had to learn the hard way, when you finally took off those rose colored glasses.

Joel had been staring at you for the duration of the exchange. Even after your ex left to hang out with a group of his buddies in the corner, his gaze lingered on you.

"You alright?" He asked as he slid his glass towards you, his forearm leaning against the bar. A wordless nod letting you know he wanted another.

"Yeah, he’s not the first creep I've had to deal with. It's in our DNA as women to deal with the lesser species of the male population."

"Can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse as a father."

"Oh," you send him a sweet smile. Setting his refilled whiskey in front of him, "no creep dare mess with Sarah. I’ve seen her make jocks cry."

"That’s my girl, taught her well." The grin he wraps around the rim of the glass makes something girlish—and foolish—spark in your stomach.

Maybe if you had a man like Joel in your life, you would be less likely to keep making the same mistakes with no-good assholes who are good for a week and bad for the rest of the 358 days.

A girl can dream.

And she has. Embarrassingly.

The two of you had continued to talk, your hip pressed against the bar as you cleaned a glass; perhaps you had been smiling and laughing too hard at what Joel was saying because your ex was back and grabbing you from across the bar in an instant.

An action that quickly landed him passed out and bloodied on the bar floor, and your boss trying to make sure Joel hadn’t taught him too good of a lesson to have him see God.

And while the adrenaline of shock had been bruising your heart against your rib cage, your lungs devoid of air—when Joel had put his non-bloody hand against your arm, calling your name (the white noise of the commotion in the bar creating an impenetrable barrier to your ear drums), a warm thumb under your chin pulling your attention away from the limp body on the floor and up into his eyes—that adrenaline melted and turned into serendipity.

Gratefulness.

Those girlish sparks turning into an entire flame that quickly engulfed you as he asked if you were okay. As he comforted you with a barely there touch on your arm and chin, concern in his dark eyes. Concern for what? Frightening you?

When your gaze is drawn to his knuckles, his body language responds with a grimace. When you see the gashes only bone against bone brings.

He’s worried he’s upset you. As if he's done something wrong.

When he insists on driving you home you don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it even if the circumstances were different. It wouldn't be the first time he drove you home because your beat-up car wouldn't start or because the weather was bad and your anxiety was high.

That’s the thing about Joel.

He was always there.

If you needed help, he always seemed to find time.

Because of this, and the aforementioned beating your toxic ex to a pulp, you shouldn't be allowing the silence to spread between the two of you like strangers. Like something in the air was making everything awkward, like you hadn’t sat in his truck a dozen times before. Like he hasn’t gotten you out of a pinch (minus the blood) before.

And after he’s pulled into your driveway, engine turned off, the cicadas and crickets filling the silence, it’s Joel who finally speaks.

Who cracks that barrier you have mentally been trying so hard to climb over.

"I’m sorry if I," he clears his throat, flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. "If I overstepped."

And the ridiculousness of him even apologizing has your mouth finally moving into action. "Joel, no, oh my gosh, no." Your palm presses against your chest as you look at him apologetically; you should be the only one saying sorry, thanking him, worshiping at his feet for this. "I should be the one saying that. I should have handled it myself or-"

"Or what?" He looks almost angry, shocked at your words. "He had a hold of you, and no disrespect, but I ain’t ever seen you kill a fly, let alone throw a punch at someone."

"Hey! I could punch someone."

"Could and would are two different things."

"You sayin I couldn’t?"

"I’m sayin' you wouldn’t."

"Not tough enough?"

"Your heart's too big."

"If you knew how hard I was holding back the urge to prove you wrong by bruising that bicep of yours, Joel Miller, you’d think differently." Your scowl and threat only seem to amuse him because he’s grinning at you. "You’re lucky you’re injured."

"I’m shaking in my boots."

"As you should be." The laugh the two of you share makes your cheeks burn. On the outside, many could and have labeled Joel as a complicated man. A man who takes a lot of nudging and persistence to get to know past that surface-level workaholic grump he sometimes displays. But he’s a man who would lend a hand at the drop of a hat. A man with honor embedded in his very DNA.

There’s a list you’ve kept in the back of your mind that has every bullet point filled out and doodled hearts around the edges of all the reasons Joel is a good man. A man you trust. A man you adore.

"Thank you, Joel." He starts to shake his head, but you stop him with your palm resting on his forearm, "thank you. "You're right, I don't think I even know how to make a proper fist, let alone connect it." Your soft laugh makes the corners of his lips tick up. "You didn’t hesitate to help me. You never do. It means a lot to me, I hope you know that."

He nods, his eyes only on your face. Listening. Taking in every word you’re saying, even if you know he hates the fact that you’re thanking him for this. But he deserves to know how much you appreciate him.

Your hand moves to his wrist, gently yanking it away from his vice-like grip on the wheel. Your index finger runs along a vein at the top of his hand—the one spot the blood didn’t cake on to. "Does it hurt?"

"No. Between the callouses and the whiskey, it’s nothing more than a cat scratch."

"You should still get it looked at."

"You’re looking at it, aren’t ya?"

Your eyes roll. "I’m not a doctor, Joel."

"All a doctors gonna tell me is to be more careful, hand me a band-aid, and charge me three hundred dollars."

"Well, in that case," you drop his hand and grab for the door. The dry summer air ineffective to your already burning skin from the man whose raising his brows at you, "I got band aids in the house, and I didn’t get to finish my shift, which means you owe me three hundred in tips alone sooo."

"There's barely three hundred people in this town, and you’re tellin me you make that in tips?"

"Joel, just get in the damn house." You order, slamming the door of his truck and walking up the path to your front door. Smiling when you hear him huff and grumble under his breath as he gets out.

A hiss—and a scowl so deadly it could scare away even the biggest and badest of grown men—has Joel’s hand twitching in your hold as you run a wet cloth along the tops of his knuckles. The fabric pulling up the caked on flecks of dried blood, the surface of the cuts along the bone already starting the healing process from being clotted with red.

"I thought you said it didn’t hurt?" You smirk playfully.

"Whiskey’s wearin' off," he grunts.

"Or," you dab the cloth in the small cap of saline solution you’ve pulled from your first aid kit under the sink. Bringing it back to his skin to press gently across his cuts, his body tensing. "You’re human after all," his eyes roll.

"Don’t alert the press."

"Oh, they’ve already been informed."

His hand rests on your thigh as you ball up some tissues to dry the area around his knuckles. Enough to keep the band-aids—the only thing he would allow you to use because gauze would just get in the way at work, he informed you when you insisted—from falling off. The heat from his palm burns through your jeans, and it's a blessing in and of itself that you're ignoring how it makes your insides feel; how your body's warmth is no match for how hot he feels. His legs are spread, body slouched against your couch, his knee against yours. A closeness he’s never been before. A casual touch and directness between friends that shouldn’t be making you feel feverish and cheeky.

When he flexes his fingers a couple times and his fingertips run along the top of your thigh, you find yourself wishing you’d worn a dress to work. A skirt. Anything to have been able to feel him do that against your bare skin. A thought you chide yourself for. A thought you hope isn’t written all over your face when you look over at Joel and he’s staring at you. Eyes darker, expression unreadable and stoic, in that way you can never tell what emotion he’s feeling at that exact moment. He gives nothing away but still sends your stomach plummeting.

After the band-aids have been stuck and you’ve cleaned up the mess on your coffee table you offer him a drink.

"Unless you have to get back to Sarah, then I understand."

"She’s with a friend tonight."

"You gonna tell her how you saved the day, all knight and shining armor style?" You tease as you walk back to the living room with two beers in hand, putting one in Joel’s outstretched one and the other to your lips. Taking a sip as you take your place beside him once again, this time a leg pulled under you as you face him.

He snorts, "don’t know about all that."

"I’m sure word has already gotten around. Her friends are probably gabbing about how heroic Mr. Miller is, a real prince charming." You laugh when you see his grin.

"Or," he says, swallowing the sip he's just taken. "She’ll give me that death glare that all teenagers possess after puberty, you know the one?"

"Oh, I know the one. Mine was so fierce my mother banned it from our house."

"It’s deadly."

"Truly."

"I’m sure prince charming will be the last thing connected to my actions. Rage and jackass sound more on the money."

You frown. Watch as he stares down at the result of the rage he thinks will now be accompanied with his name. Tarnishing it that now people will forget the kindness that was once there, the man whose hardworking now turned into something vile all because of an act of heroism some might find obscene; with how much blood and possible damage it has caused to one mans face, you could understand why such an act would be.

But to you—and those who knew how horrible your ex had been, how he had deserved every bone crunching punch, every spit of blood and teeth choked on—you knew that what Joel did was right. And maybe, somewhere deep down in those morals against violence everyone gets handed out to them at birth, you knew that Joel could be sitting in a jail cell instead of on your couch if those punches had been any worse. If it had been pure untamed rage like some will say.

"You’re a good man, Joel. So you potentially hospitalized an asshole, who hasn’t?" Your heart leaps in your chest when he laughs, and you thank God that your joke landed. Thank him that this man with his disheveled hair that's begging to have a hand run through it, work shirt and jeans looking like they’ve seen better days—is in your life. Not every girl has someone willing to bruise another man's face while destroying the hand that's needed to do their job properly.

No one had acted as quick as Joel had.

Joel Miller was a good man.

"What did you see in him anyway?" Joel asks, taking another sip of his beer. His gaze is drawn to you from the hole he was burning into his hand.

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know.

Couldn’t answer that question with the full truth because you didn’t know why you always went for the assholes. The guys who liked to scream instead of talk it out. Who liked to steal money from your wallet for booze or a habit they couldn’t kick. The ones who never remembered your birthday but made sure didn't forget theirs.

Your father had been a great man. Your mother an amazing woman. You couldn’t take the easy way out and blame it on family trauma.

So you answered with the only viable reason that came to mind.

"Loneliness makes you ignore all the bad stuff." You take a sip, swallow it down (washing away the pinpricks of potential embarrassment for being so brutally honest with Joel). "It makes you talk yourself out of throwing all their stuff to the curb or burning it in your backyard, because it’s not always bad. Some days are good. Some of them wait to be assholes before the novelty wears off; others wait until you're two years in and they’ve already slept with half the town behind your back. And some will bring you flowers every time they mess up, until one day you look around and realize you don't have any room to put this new vase and there's dried flower petals all over your floors. But hey, at least you’re not lonely, and your house smells really good."

The smile on your lips fades when you see the look on Joel’s face. See that he’s finding no humor in this story. And the gulp that swallows down the beer in your hands burns your throat the entire way down. Your cheeks are burning, and you have to look away from him. Distract yourself by picking at the label on the bottle.

"Or maybe it’s as cliché as saying I haven’t found the right one yet." You try to save, nervously chuckling under your breath. In hopes that he forgets everything you’ve just said and clings to this one shitty joke.

"Look at me."

You do, and you wish you hadn’t. The roughness of his voice makes your stomach swoop and fall like a rollercoaster of emotions you did not prepare yourself for. Hadn’t imagined this being in your future when you’d walked into work. But you’re looking at him. Meeting his eyes. Seeing the stern glower in them before he speaks.

There’s a million things you imagine him saying. Telling you how much better you are than that, than all of those meaningless assholes. How you deserve better, and you’ll find it someday. Hell, you expect him to scold you with how low his brows are.

What you don’t expect is to feel his lips on yours. His fingers digging into the skin at the back of your neck, his chest inches from your now-heaving one. And it renders you speechless. Still. Your brain not computing with the signals your nerves are giving off right now.

When he pulls away and looks at you, it takes you several blinks to meet his gaze. The air in your lungs weighing your chest down. You shouldn’t speak. Should allow yourself to get your bearings in order. To catch your breath and sort through everything you’re feeling right now. "Was that a pity kiss?"

"A what—pity kiss?"

"Cause of the," you swallow, lick your lips, "of the aforementioned assholes?"

Joel’s breath fans across your face when he chuckles, "anyone who’d pity kiss you deserves to be added to that list of assholes. And I might be on many asshole lists, but hopefully not on yours." The fingers on your neck skate forward to your cheek, thumb pressed gently along your jawline. His features grow serious again. "I didn’t just knock that asshole out because he had it comin'. And if you haven't noticed, I’m either working or at home with Sarah. Both keepin' me more than busy."

"Too busy to be making house calls for leaky faucets and tarnishing your good name with your fists?"

"Exactly."

There's a long pause between you two, as if you're both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to put these unspoken mutual feelings out there.

"Joel, are you saying you coming over to fix my faucet and staying for the occasional beer was you…flirting?" The grin he gives you makes you laugh, "who taught you how to flirt? And please don’t say Tommy."

"No. If I had listened to him we’d be–" he doesn’t finish. Just shakes his head and chuckles under his breath.

And maybe affirmative action with your hands wasn’t your forte, maybe you couldn’t do what needed to be done when it came in the form of actions. But when it came to words, to saying what you wanted, needed, craved when it was right here in front of you being hinted and teased at, you didn’t hesitate.

"Maybe you should have listened to Tommy." Your hand mirrors his own, resting on his cheek. You already knew he ran hot from his palm alone. But his cheek feels just as warm as you do, burning right through to your bones. His gaze falls to your parted lips, and a decision is made in the seconds it takes him to return his gaze to yours.

An agreement.

"C'mere." His lips collide with yours in a heated kiss of nicks of teeth and tongue that taste like whiskey and beer and something that your brain will forever recognize as Joel. A taste you know you’ll be wanting to swallow down again and again. To feel the burn of his beard against your chin until your skin is raw and blotchy from how hard his mouth is devouring yours. An arm wrapped around your waist pulls you into his lap, and your forgotten beers spill and stain the cushions of your couch. "Shit, sorry, let me," Joel starts, but you stop him with your hands on his cheeks.

"Leave it, just come here." You insist, lips returning to his.

"Yes, ma’am." His smirk molds to your mouth, wipes away as his tongue runs along your bottom lip to press against yours. A hand on your ass squeezes and presses you forward so you’re grinding against his lap. The seam of your jeans rubs up against the wet patch that's quickly forming on the fabric of your underwear, becoming sticky and clinging to your pussy. Joel's other hand runs down the column of your neck, gripping and pulling you away from his mouth so that his lips can latch onto your sensitive skin. A gasp leaving your lungs, teeth and tongue making you shudder and cling to his shoulders.

Shoulders you don't let go of until your back hits the mattress and you're both pulling your shirts above your heads, your fingers quickly working the clip of your bra, joining the discarded pile of shirts and shoes on your bedroom floor.

Your heart feels as if it’s beating a hole through your chest, like it’ll fall into Joel’s hands as he leans over your body, knees between your open legs, as his palms run down your chest, between your breasts. Over the globes of them, calloused thumb circling around your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you press yourself up into his touch. He’s taking you in, letting his eyes trail every dip, possible mole, scar, and marking on your skin. How your chest heaves in response to his hand. How your breasts fit in his palm. How you gasp and cry into the air when he leans down and swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh when he pulls off and does the same to the other one.

His mouth finding its way back to yours again. His hips canting against yours; you can feel his cock digging into your thigh. And when you let your hand skate between the two of you to give him more friction. A dizzying desire to feel more of his heat and need for you burning through your skin and to your core, where you truly crave him.

The deep grunt that falls from his mouth and onto your waiting tongue sends a shockwave of arousal through your entire body. Being. You want to hear it again, want to pull every noise from this man with your body and mouth until you are both drained and cursing yourselves for not doing this sooner. And you know he wants to do the same. Wants to catalog every pressure point and sensitive bit of your flesh so he can draw this out, can rile you up with a simple touch, scrape of teeth, run of his tongue along your jugular. Until you tell him how badly you can’t stand not having him inside of you.

He's leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, his fingers digging into the skin above your jeans, holding your hips still. Preventing you from moving them the way you want to from each press and prickle from his mouth and beard—scalding the nerves of your skin and making your insides whirl.

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart." Joel murmurs into your skin as his fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans. Your body feels barren and cool away from his heat as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting as he frees your legs from their confines. His thumb runs along the lace of your underwear, dipping lower and lower until it’s pressing into that wet spot. A silent, smug praise tugs at the corner of his lopsided smile as his eyes look up to yours.

If your mind was working coherently and not filled with Joel Joel Joel (the way he smells woodsy and rugged, the way something deep and gruff reverberates in his chest when your teeth sink into the skin of his neck, and how he keeps looking at you like a fine art piece hung in the Louvre. Movements quick and gentle as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, making quick work to push your legs apart, fingers digging into the back of your thigh as he lets himself take his time adorning you fully on display for him) there'd be a sassy remark aimed at him.

The callus of his thumb nicks your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips following the descent of his finger as it spreads you apart. Trailing a line from your clit to dip into your entrance, gathering your arousal on the pad of his finger, his eyes on yours as he presses it against his tongue. A burning hunger in his eyes as he sucks your wetness from his fingers.

You're a panting mess by the time Joel positions his head between your legs, arms wrapped behind your thighs, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing up your inner thigh. Your fingers clench the blanket in anticipation, need, and want. The closer his mouth gets to your center, the more you can feel his hot breath moving in, the potential love bites and marks he’s leaving on your inner thigh—all a certain type of torture you don’t think you’re strong enough to put up with right now.

You lift your head to start begging, to plead with your torturer, but he’s speaking before you can.

"Wanna take my time, sweetheart." His tongue swirls at the joint of your inner thigh. And just as earlier, the words you mean to get out, to speak from the storm cloud of lust in your head, die in the back of your throat when Joel runs the flat of his tongue up the seam of your pussy. The torturous muscle wraps you around his tongue, following the slowest path to your clit, until the tip of his tongue flicks, making a pattern of strokes and licks, until his lips wrap around the swollen nerve, making you feel delirious. Keeps pulling gasps, moans, and pants of pleasure and ecstasy from your parted mouth; head thrown back on pillows; legs trembling around his head from the blazing fire that grows and grows the more he consumes you.

The more his nose nicks your clit when he fucks you with his tongue, the more his fingers dig into your quivering legs to keep you anchored to the bed and his mouth.

It feels like hours with how slowly he goes. Keeps you dangling from the ledge with every stroke and suck. Every soothing indent his fingers are leaving in your thigh. Your skin slicked with sweat, knuckles cramped from its grip in the blanket. When your moans go up in pitch he goes slower in that motion, that spot that has you seeing stars. Then he lets your breath come back to you with slow strokes of his tongue at your entrance, giving attention to the other parts of you that you didn’t think could elicit such erotic noises from your lungs.

Your fingers find their way into those disheveled strands you’ve been waiting a lifetime to thread through. To pull and keep yourself from the feeling of floating away from the intensity of the pleasure. From your orgasm coming closer and closer until you’re panting his name, "Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck," your body shaking, the cries pulled out from this man burning your throat as you finally fall from the ledge and into him; his tongue coated in you, his chin wet with your essence.

Your body sensitive and heavy as you come down, a sweaty heat making you feel sticky. Joel’s fingers seem to bypass every sensitive part though, as his palm caresses the tops of your thighs, your hips, your curves, the side of your breast. Until he’s reached your burning cheeks, mouth pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. The kiss was slow and gentle. Your arousal coats your taste buds when his tongue meets yours.

The kiss feeling more intimate than before, more heady. Knocking you right back on that loop you just got off of. That ache and throb he just sedated starting again in your belly, moving to where your thighs are soaked.

"You’re overdressed," you murmur against his lips. Joel kisses you again, your open mouths exchanging a breathy chuckle.

"Do you wanna change that?"

The question holds more than just the surface level of a joke and an answer of "yeah, obviously." There’s a seriousness to it that makes you pull back from his lips and stare up at him. His thumb traces a soothing pattern into the bottom of your chin, his eyes holding an unspoken reassurance that he’s fine with it ending right here. With him just pleasing you, getting to take you apart and reassemble you with tender touches and a torturous mouth.

It can be all about you.

It is all about you.

You deserve nothing less.

His eyes and soft grin speak unspoken.

Your nod is slow and reassuring. Your fingertips copy the motions of his thumb against the patches of skin in his damp beard. "Unless you’d rather help me get the stain out of my couch that you caused."

"I caused?" His brows shoot up.

"It's to be expected when you can't keep your hands off of me," you say before shrieking as he pinches your side. His lips kissing your scowl away—a problem you foresee in the near future.

The kiss lasts for minutes (centuries you wish). Your fingertips never lift from the other's face, moving along jawlines, chins, and cheek bones. His chest comfortably against yours, giving you that heat you missed so dearly. His cock still stiff and hot in his jeans, grinding slowly against your pelvis.

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? When feelings haven't even been discussed yet, but you just know? Already know what each touch, kiss, and caress holds behind it. Telling a wordless story in the way he had wanted to give you pleasure first—to taste—and take his time making you feel everything his mouth could do. Everything he wanted to do to you.

He wasn’t thinking about himself after the fact. Wasn’t rushing to put you in a position that made it all about his pleasure. Giving you little to no space to cool down, regain your bearings, and have that fire slowly relight and become more tantalizing, as he is right now.

You really did date assholes.

Your fingers move to his chest, splaying your palm along his body until you’ve reached where he’s hard and pressing against you. Your fingers curl around the outline of him. Stroking, massaging.

"I want you, Joel." You breathe into his mouth.

He growls against your lips in something akin to frustration and agony. It makes something inside of you sink, overthink that maybe he doesn’t actually want to push it past the points you’ve already reached. Maybe it’s too much, all too soon, for this new territory of your friendship—even if it already seemed a little too late with the couch confessions and his saliva still coating your center.

He must see the thoughts volleying in your head because he’s scolding himself under his breath and shaking his head. A soothing touch placed on your skin. "I feel like I’m some horny teenager again, with how bad I want you." His chuckle soothes your heart, "I don’t have-"

And you can't help but laugh at his waving hand towards his pockets and the sentence he's about to finish.

"Jesus, Joel. Bless anyone who's ever thought you were the ungentlemanly type." Here you were worrying about whether or not he wanted you, the proof being clearer than just his dick against your fingers. While the only thing on his mind was protection.

"Glad I’m amusin’ to you."

Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back to your lips. "All a girl wants is a decent man to make her laugh, not break her heart, and be able to make her come. And so far you’ve done all three." You let your tongue slip between your mouths and run along his bottom lip, "I’m good if you are."

I’m clean.

I take a little pill every day because life is chaotic enough and I don’t want any surprises.

We’re protected.

Now take me already.

The drag of your tongue, the roll of your hips against him, the little whimper you let out when he bites your lip—speaks for you.

It’s all either of you needs to rid Joel of his jeans: hands tangled in belt loops, tugs, pulls, pushing until he’s completely bare in front of you. Your breath hitches when you feel the underside of his cock spreading you and running along your clit slowly and languidly. The heat of him feels nothing compared to your own, the throb and ache of requisite in every roll and drag.

And when neither of you can stand it anymore, when he’s grunting and you’re begging, he leans up on an elbow, hand wrapped around his cock, lining himself up to your entrance. Your breath leaves your lungs, stomach falling falling down to where he’s pushing into you. Stretching you, filling you until there’s no telling where either of you ends or begins. Attached by that intangible string of pleasure and bliss of only being able to feel each other.

"Fuck," Joel groans. Mouth finding your shoulder, breath hot and heavy. His thrusts start leisurely, taking his time in that way you’re learning he loves to do. Loves to compartmentalize up what you need—more, faster, harder. Going off of the moans panted into his neck, nails digging into his back.

There's a hand gripped in the pillow beside your head, another at your breast, his mouth connected to your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. His hips slamming against your open thighs, thrusts deep, sharp. His cock hitting places that make your back arch, his name strung together with pleas for more. The slapping of skin and wet squelching of bodily fluids between the two of you making a symphony of lewd delight.

When the hand at your breast hikes up one of your legs, the cry you let out is swallowed by his mouth. The deeper he fucks into you, the more your body shakes, the more you feel him completely consuming you. turning you into someone who will never get enough of this. Of him. Of how good he's making you feel.

"Sound s’pretty," his tongue brushes against the underside of your chin, teeth nipping at the bone. A trail of him brought down to the shell of your ear. Where his heavy breaths and grunts fill you just as his cock does. Fills you to the brink of pain turned satisfying pleasure, as each stroke brings you closer to a precipice he’s already pushed you from. "Can’t believe I held myself back from you."

"Joel."

"I should knock out every asshole who thought to hurt you, t’not love you the way you deserve. Put you first," he slips his hand between your slick bodies, palm hot against your pelvis as his thumb rubs fast tight circles around your clit. His words getting filthier, ragged. Becoming heaving breaths against your ear as he fucks you faster. As his thumb matches the pace, as you grow closer and closer. Led by his words and pushed over by his cock.

"That’s it, sweetheart." He’s encourages as you come. As he fucks you through it, as that white-hot heat makes your body contort against his. Cling and squeeze around him. The string of groans and curses, your name mixed with something incoherent but soft and deep, makes your chest swish—bit into your skin as Joel comes not long after.

And after the two of you have cleaned up enough to call it satisfactory, two new beers condensing on your night stand. Your cheek pressed into his chest as your bodies lay pressed together under your sheet. His chin resting atop your forehead, a soft brush of fingertips at your spine—there’s cheesy grins on your faces, "Tommy’s going to have a heyday."

"He owes me fifty bucks."

There’s faux shock on your face when you turn and lean on your elbow to look at him, "excuse me?"

"He didn't think I'd ever tell ya," Joel shrugs as his hand caresses your shoulder. A fondness in his eyes, "I never do anything for myself." You press a kiss to his thumb, "I think we both deserve something good for once though."

"I guess I solved the mystery of how to get Joel Miller to be soft," you joke. Nip at the skin of his thumb playfully.

"I ain’t soft." He grumbles.

"Postcoitous Joel disagrees with that statement," you say. The dramatic roll his eyes do makes you laugh. Your teeth nipping his thumb harder, a bite this time, you shift so you’re on top of him. Sitting up on your knees. "Since this bet is half at my expense.."

"Expense, huh?" His palm grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, causing you to rock in his lap. His cock already twitching to life again.

"I think we should get you your money's worth," you smirk.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," his fingers tangled in your back hair, pulling your mouth down to his in a hard kiss, before you get the chance to at least pretend to be offended.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #pedro pascal smut #joel miller fluff #the last of us smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fic #pedro pascal fics #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction

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wonysugar · 1 month

Text

close the door | hanni pham

synopsis : you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she.

genre : fluffy smut!

pairing : non-idol!hanni x gf!femreader

tags : they’re in love your honor, lots of kissing and making out, cuddling, l-bombs, top!femreader, bottom!hanni, they’re both virgins, fingering, clit play, nipple play, neck kissing, hanni’s dogs are mentioned twice lawl, lots of comfort, lots of consent! they’re literally just lovey dovey girlfriends having sex for the first time aheheh

warnings : none :]

word count : 2.5k

a/n : if you’re rereading this and thinking “hey the synopsis changed and there wasn’t an author’s note before!!” well you’d be right I POSTED THIS IN A RUSH I’M SO SORRYYFKEJF

anyways!! this is just to say that this fic is inspired by the lovely writer that is sorry for tagging you twice ahh @facefullofsadness’s fic right over here :] sooo GO READ THAT FIRST! it’s truly lovely and i really enjoyed reading it, hence why i wrote thisskfke. thank you for readingg<33

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

you would die for your girlfriend, actually, even if you only started dating barely a few months ago. who could blame you? that’s what happens when you’ve been best friends prior to your relationship for so, so, so long. it simply started with a ‘hi! my name’s hanni! what’s yours?’ from her part at the innocent age of seven and just like that, years later, you guys were still inseparable.

so really, your life-long friendship and months-long relationship were both with the same gorgeous and outgoing girl, and the only thing distinguishing those two was the label you used to describe them.

“bro i genuinely don’t understand why he doesn’t just… run away. cause— get this, there’s obviously a murderer in his house right? and what does he decide to do about that? just stay in there. like, okay.. like i’m aware they needed plot but lord, i don’t know at least make it somewhat realistic you know what i mean—“ was what your girlfriend said, on her bed as she sat down in between your legs and leaned her back against you, her head facing forward and resting on your shoulder.

you simply nodded along to her words as you played with her hair, trying your hardest to stay focused on the piece of media before you whilst also paying your utmost attention to her, despite her constant ranting and criticizing of the entire movie. you, having originally liked the film, were now conflicted about your opinion on it. it’s not like she was wrong, her very heavy criticism had to have come from somewhere, after all, but you couldn’t help but slightly appreciate the storyline. so, you weren’t really sure what you felt about it anymore.

one thing you were certain of, however,

was that your girlfriend looked really good while passionately rambling. like, way too good. she had tied her dark hair into a high ponytail, it also looked wavy due to the rain that was pouring on you guys earlier, her messy bangs fell perfectly onto her forehead. and her smile? it always looked perfect. she always looked perfect.

and since you apparently weren’t hiding your admiration well enough, she very quickly noticed it.

she giggled teasingly. her voice sweet like honey, her australian accent more prominent than usual, she spoke up, “hello?” before full-on laughing, “were you even listening to me?”

you could only kiss her, that seemed like the only appropriate response in the heat of the moment. she, of course, kissed back just as lovingly before pulling away moments after, a curious and confused look on her face.

“no seriously, what is up with you?” she kept teasing, smiling stupidly as she kept her gaze lingering on yours for the following seconds, her eyes unconsciously drifting to your lips. “you look stupid.”

“and you look really pretty.” was what you whispered back to her, earning a shy smile and an exaggerated eye roll from her. immediately, you made your lips come into contact with hers again. it felt as if the world would stop spinning if you didn’t, like a slowly growing urge to keep touching her suddenly came over you and you needed to fill it.

“so.. so pretty.” you mumbled, so quietly that it was almost to yourself, before going back in. you allowed yourself to make the kiss deeper and slid her tongue across her soft lips as you demanded entrance. you could hear her let out slight noises, she clearly was not expecting you to do anything of the sorts, at least not right now. she was a tad bit confused, but let you in, who in their right mind would pass up the opportunity to kiss their girlfriend? immediately, your hands wrapped around her waist whilst you continued kissing her lovingly, your tongue roaming every part of her mouth.

it didn’t take long before your hands started naturally reaching under her top, caressing on her tummy and progressively going higher with each sound she let out.

you pulled away, slightly worried of going too far, “c-can.. can i continue, hanni?”

you were scared, terrified, even! despite knowing each other for years, you’d only been dating for a few months; those are two completely different things! it’s not like you see your completely platonic best friend’s naked body every tuesday. even then, despite dating, you still haven’t gotten that stage of the relationship. and on top of that,

the two of you were a proper pair of virgins. you had no idea what you were doing, and neither did she. you didn’t want to seem like an inexperienced loser to her, you wanted to take care of her and make her feel good. what if that didn’t happen? what if you made it awkward between the two of you?? it was nerve-racking.

as if barging into your mind and reading your thoughts, wanting to reassure you, she grabbed your hand in a gentle manner before nodding. then, she spoke up, “can you close the door?”

“there’s.. nobody home, though?”

she giggled, “oh i know, it’s just that i don’t want the dogs to potentially walk in on this.”

you groaned dramatically, laughing and insisting that you were too lazy to get up and that her dogs wouldn’t understand the situation if they even walked in. she, in response, just tapped your knee with a cheeky smile, encouraging you to stand up.

“come on y/n, close the door. think about milly and mia; think about their innocence!” she exaggerated.

after playfully hitting her arm and laughing along with her, you got up, proceeded to close and lock the door like she asked you to and eventually walked back to her bed, sitting back on it and positioning yourself the way you originally were, her back to you again.

“happy?” you asked in a fake arrogant tone.

she hummed, radiant, “yes, very happy.” before turning her head just right and kissing you again.

eventually back to the original rhythm of the kiss, you placed your hands back on her stomach again, slowly caressing and teasing higher and higher with time. once you reached her bra, you proceeded to impatiently unhook it, immediately taking it off of her.

her breathing got heavier with each second that passed, partially due to nervousness, probably. you’d be lying if you said that wasn’t the case for you too. the more your hands carefully roamed her body, the more self-conscious you got, you truly had no idea what you were doing.

then, as if something in your mind clicked, you had an idea. what if you just did to her whatever you enjoyed doing to yourself in moments like these? that could work.. right? maybe??

you glided your hand upwards, your finger lightly grazing her nipple. in response to the sudden movement, a lewd sound accidentally escaped from her pretty lips, her breath hitching. that sound was a small moan.

a small one, barely audible, yet it was still enough for you to feel the activation of every single neuron residing in your brain.

then suddenly, it’s like the concept of making love to her wasn’t as nerve-racking as it originally was.

“s-sorry..” she apologized, seeming slightly embarrassed.

you kissed her cheek, reassuring her, “don’t apologize, i wanna hear you.”

despite it being an accident, she seemed to enjoy the sensation of your hand on her chest, so you went back to teasing her tits and gently groping them before you eventually asked, “is it okay if i go further..?”

nodding in a keen manner, she swallowed her saliva, then breathed out her response, “yes. yes keep— keep going. please.”

well shit! even if you wanted to stop, it’s not like you could, not with how good she sounded pleading for you.

not wasting any more time, you proceeded to separate one of your hands from her chest and quickly slid it downwards; to the band of her sweatpants. now, of course, your other hand was still in its original place, working its magic, but you wanted her to feel more. so much more.

you wanted to convey every surge of affection you violently felt for her into pleasure. and, if there was one thing you surely knew how to do, it was kissing her.

so, you started kissing on her neck, which she didn’t expect whatsoever, and still heavily concentrated on the hand you had on her breast. then, you pulled on the sleeve of her tee just enough to expose her shoulder and moved your mouth towards it, nipping and gently licking it.

your hand now fully slipped into her pants, you teased her entrance through the fabric of her underwear as you kept kissing her naked shoulder. you listened to her attentively and took mental notes of her reactions; so far, her breathing got heavier, her thighs slightly clenched around your hand and she was now frequently biting her lip.

plus, her panties were wet.

did all of that mean you were doing good? …perhaps it did!

and did her drenched underwear make you short circuit? perhaps it did as well!

“d-d’you feel okay?” you asked, before going back to slowly kissing her shoulder. she threw you a quick glance, chest heaving up and down.

“s-so okay.” she giggled.

her smile being contagious, you found yourself doing the exact same thing, content with the answer she gave you.

soon enough, you traced your finger up her clothed slit before eventually sliding it into the undergarment she wore, making her shudder. after what felt like an eternity, you could feel her slick coat your digits from one swipe of the finger.

it was tantalizing.

growing impatient, you quickly yet carefully settled your middle and ring finger on her swollen clit, making slow circular motions on it, looking at her in the process. full on whimpering, this time, she stared back at you, no longer embarrassed. she wanted to let you know how good you were making her feel, hence why she was getting louder with each movement you made, and it filled you with enough confidence and adrenaline to gently push her head towards you, leaning in for a kiss.

thankfully, she kissed you back, deeply at that, her eyes closed and her quiet moans muffled.

you pulled away after a few moments, “tell me if it hurts, okay?” you reminded her. she simply nodded, brain all fuzzy from arousal.

she grabbed your other hand and intertwined her fingers with yours. “g-go slowly.” she whispered.

“i will.” you affirmed.

slowly and gently, you slid your fingers into her core, making sure not to go too fast or too rough. thankfully, the wetness was making it easier for you, and probably for her as well. every time that your girlfriend’s breath hitched, that her hand gripped harder on yours or, hell, every time that her eyes closed, you stopped in your tracks and double checked to see if you were hurting her, so it took a little while for your digits to fully penetrate her.

fortunately, she assured you that you weren’t, in fact, hurting her. some moments just felt more comfortable than others, is all.

once they were fully in, you gave her time to get used to the feeling, still double checking on her state every now and then. after a few deep breaths, she nodded.

“i-i’m ready.”

you started to pump your fingers in and out of her, taking in all of her as your speed slowly increased as time went on. naturally, as more time passed, you felt the urge to make her feel good get even stronger.

that’s when you decided to increase the pace, your fingers curling on just the right spot inside her, pumping faster and faster as your thumb played with her clit.

“is this okay baby—” you asked.

“f-fuck— yes y/n that feels good—“ was what she moaned out, cutting you off. a feeling of bliss progressively and clearly overtaking her whole body.

when you tried to look at her despite only being able to see her side profile, you could’ve sworn you saw an angel. her cheeks were slightly tinted with a pinkish color and her eyebrows were upturned, her whole face contorted with pleasure, her skin glistening with sweat. her eyes hooded with lust, hanni looked down at herself and attentively watched as you played with her. your fingers swimming in her slick, navigating in her folds the way a skilled sailor would the vast ocean, it was hypnotizing, and she realized how this was probably the way you got yourself off on a regular day, and she couldn’t help but moan at both the thought and the sensation.

you made her feel good, you made her feel happy, loved. you always did.

amidst the chaos that was her messy bed, the setting somehow looked better than every piece of artwork you’d ever seen combined. the bed creaked ever so slightly, and she looked and sounded so beautiful, especially with the way the sun set directly on her parted lips at that moment.

you were certain that your heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“i love you so much, hanni.” you softly said, kissing the back of her ear whilst you kept fingering her. she couldn’t form proper words, so she simply tightened her grip on your hand more, as a way to say it back.

then, once you picked up a stable pace for a few minutes, her back arched against you, her breathing getting heavier, practically panting. her hand’s grip on yours getting tighter, you felt her hot breath hit your neck once she settled her head into the crook of it.

“y/n— baby i think i’m- i’m— mmh—“

that was the moment she reached climax, letting out a long and loud moan as she rode out her orgasm, bucking her hips against your hand before smashing her lips onto yours. quietly, she let a few i love yous slip out of her mouth between kisses, her hand resting on your head, fingers intertwined with your soft hair.

you particularly made sure to say it back to her every time.

you pulled out your fingers and took your hand out of her pants. still coming down from her high, she smiled at you with tired eyes and kissed your cheek. you smiled back, looking at her lovingly.

“d-did i do okay?”

she giggled, “..are you seriously asking me that? do you not see me right now?”

you raised your eyebrows, playful, “for all i know you were faking it.”

“yeah, actually.. i was faking it, especially with how wet i was from the whole thing. aren’t i such a good actor y/n? it’s almost like i legitimately came really hard—”

“shut up.” you elbowed her, laughing. she gave you a cheeky smile before she got up from the bed, grabbed a pair of new underwear from her drawer and opened the bedroom door, heading straight towards the living room to pet her dogs after changing.

“hey y/n?”

“hm?”

“…wanna bake brownies in a bit?”

“uhm.. yes? what kind of question is that?? let me just go wash my hands first.” you replied, getting up and walking towards the bathroom before adding on, “unless you wanna eat very unsanitary cum-buttered brownies, of course—“

you heard her contagious laugh from across the hallway, making you smile to yourself, “you’re fucking disgusting— go wash your hands, you weirdo!”

oh how you loved your girlfriend.

#smut #kpop gg #hanni pham newjeans #hanni newjeans #newjeans smut #hanni pham #hanni pham x female reader #hanni x reader #hanni x fem reader #hanni pham x fem reader #hanni smut #newjeans hanni #female reader #kpop gg smut #kpop girlgroups

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etherealyoungk · 2 months

Text

— ✦ sugar & spice | jeon wonwoo

PAIRING: bodyguard!wonwoo x celebrity!reader (fem!reader)

SUMMARY: it wasn’t your fault you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, however, the people had a lot to say about that, especially since your father a public figure. but when he’s falsely accused of taking bribes and money laundering, your whole life falls apart, and things start to get out of hand and dangerous. that’s when you meet wonwoo - the bodyguard who’s been assigned to stay by your side and protect you 24/7. the only problem? he was really cold, but also irresistibly attractive. it was going to be a task to try and befriend him, but who said you weren’t up for the challenge.

THEMES: bodyguard au, mutual pining, slow burn

WARNINGS: use of curse words, mentions of anxiety, social anxiety, panic attack, crowds, fighting, violence, kissing, suggestive, just wonwoo being a whole heartthrob

WORDCOUNT: 29.2k

A/N: this fic was so self-indulgent oh my god. thank you to rania @wheeboo for feeding my delusions for this fic and proofreading it for me, ilysm <33 reblogs and feedback are always appreciated ^^ i would love to know your thoughts! enjoy reading ^^

full fic under the cut

“all right, class, that’s it for today. please come collect your mock test papers as you exit”, the professor announces and everyone starts talking, the room echoing with voices and movement as people get up, their feet shuffling as they stand in line to collect their papers from the front.

you come up in front and your professor gives you a smile as he hands yours back to you. “good job yn, near perfect score”, he says and you smile back. “thanks prof”, you tell, beaming as you take your paper and move. but you don’t miss the snide remark told by someone behind you and the few laughs that occur. but you ignore the comment and walk away.

you were used to people telling you that, people envying you and not in a nice way. you’d heard all kinds of things all your life. “bet they only got in because of her connections” or “they’re only top of the class because of they’re father’s influence” but all of those were very untrue. you were truly passionate about what you were studying and doing, but the people didn’t seem to think so.

yes, you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, coming from a prestigious family with a lot of influence - your dad being a huge business tycoon, which made your family really rich and influential. but growing up, you wanted nothing more than to be not associated with him. your name was always tied with his - and you hated that. it never gave you the chance to be your own person, to have your own identity, which you craved for.

growing up only became harder when your mother passed away when you were still young. she was ill and there was nothing that could be done to save her, it had been too late. your moments and memories with her were limited considering you were only ten when she passed away, but still, everything you remembered about her you cherished, and you aimed to make her proud one day, proud of the person you’ve become. as a token from your mother, you had kept her ring and no, not her wedding ring, but another ring she wore. it was a dainty ring with a pretty pattern and you had always loved that ring as a child. so now you wore it, to remember her, to keep some part of her with you.

and of course, with growing up, the biggest struggle of all for you was making friends. when you were younger, you were actually good at making friends, you had plenty in fact. but as you grew up, you learned to see who was just befriending you for ulterior motives and whatnot, and you soon became good at filtering who you really became friends - close friends with. but in all those years, you only made two friends like that. they were the purest and sweetest souls ever - rania and skye. they were your best friends. they were your childhood friends and the only ones you opened up to and grew close to. while you still had a group of friends you interacted with on an everyday and casual basis, there wasn’t anyone you were close with besides them. there was also your current boyfriend - jaehyun. it was silly really, you had a crush on him for a while and soon the news spread from god knows where and one day he asked you out. you were so head over heels that you said yes of course, because which fool would turn down their crush?

you're sitting across the table from your father, who’s busy talking to someone on the phone. it was a weekly thing that you had to have dinner at your father’s house.

"yes i want to see a sample of the product before we send it into manufacturing”, your father speaks to the person on the other line.

you stare down at your plate, moving your fork around as you listen to him speak. you and your father didn’t have the best relationship, it was rocky and messy, to say the least. ever since your mother passed away, you both drifted apart, your father focusing on the business and you just trying to get through the days as you tried to cope with the sudden loss. and you both somehow stayed like that, drifted apart. but that didn’t mean he was a bad guy. he still did nice things for you and you both had your moments, but it was strained. let's just say he wasn't the best father figure growing up.

you were used to having filler conversations about your life with your father like this. all he does is nod before he goes back to scrolling on his phone. half the time during your childhood and even now, you barely saw your father. he was always busy with work or attending meetings about god knows what. so that meant you were all alone in the big house which got lonely. that’s when you decided to move into a different house, have your own space and make it cosy too. at first, your father wasn’t too keen on the idea, but you were old enough now, in college too, so he agreed. so now you live alone in a house comfortable enough to make into your own little safe haven.

you unlock your front door, sliding into your house slippers as you trudge inside, discarding your bag on the couch as you open the fridge to grab a bottle of cold water to refresh yourself. today had been a long day. apart from studies, you also volunteered at a local cat shelter for rescues and the local public library. you enjoyed doing both things so you were more than happy to volunteer. they both had their perks 1) free cuddles and serotonin from all the kittens and cats 2) you could borrow as many books as you wanted so it was a win-win.

you were used to your father being on the news, he was a businessman after all, an influential man, someone important. but with all that came all the trolls, the hate and people who were obviously jealous and disliked him for no reason at all. all this in turn was also directed towards you. you were often called the silver spoon kid, nepo baby, or someone who’s life was handed to you on a silver platter. for the most of the time, you tried to ignore them, but of course as any normal human, it affected you. you hated it at times infact. you hated how people could concoct a ridiculous assumption about you based on nothing and it infuriated you. but you’d learn to grow up with it, grow up being watched, hounded at, judged at and trolled at. that was what you get for simply existing and being born in a wealthy family. and somewhere along the way you developed an anxiety about this and it made you scared to get close and open up to people.

when you first joined college, it was hell. people took pictures without your consent all the time and they still did at times, but you’ve given up at trying to stop it. you were used to people's cameras at you, fingers at you, talking about you and also using you. everyone wanted to be your friend and butter you up to you, but when you started putting boundaries, they were quick to call you names. you were surrounded by paparazzi going to you during the first week and even now on the occasional basis, someone was always following you and snapping pictures of you. even if you told yourself it was okay, it was not and deep down you hated it. but what could you do?

your father, well he didn’t seem to mind all the comments being told about him, as long as his business went well at the end of the day. but if you were going to be honest, your father was pretty smart and he had a knack for what he was doing, that’s what made him so successful. but that didn’t mean he didn’t hit bumps along the way, oh he did. you still remember the headline your father made when he invested money into a broken startup. but now he was making millions as the company took off.

today morning was a good day. the sun was shining bright and the clouds were white against the blue sky. it wasn’t too hot, a comfortable temperature - it was the ideal day and you were more than happy about this weather. you get ready for college, it was your last semester before you graduated. you grab your phone from the desk table only to realise it was dead and you plug it in as you head to the bathroom to get ready. you quickly put on an outfit, grab your books, bag, and your phone on the way out. you lock your door and raise your hand to unlock your car, opening the door and sitting inside. you drive to college, putting on some music, in a good mood today as you softly sing along to the song that was playing on the radio.

you park your car in the parking lot, which was already crowded and you mentally cursed at the way people parked sometimes. you exit the car and walk towards campus, trying to unlock your phone but it doesn't open. that’s when you realise it was still dead - silly you had forgot to turn on the switch when you plugged your phone in. you mentally curse as you walk towards class, hoping someone had a spare phone charger for you to use. but that’s when you get a feeling - a feeling that you were being watched. and when you glance up, you can see people looking at you, whispering things in hushed voices between themselves. you brushed it off as nothing and continued walking.

a couple of people pass by you, looking right at you as they pass a comment. “see i knew your father was a crooked man”, he tells and the others laugh as they walk away. what? you were completely confused and the fact that almost everyone was looking at you as you kept walking made you nervous all of a sudden. this wasn’t good. you spot your professor and he comes walking towards you, in big strides, like he is in a hurry. “hello yn”, he says, faking a smile. “hello professor”, you reply. “i would like to have a word with you, please follow me”. he says and you can still feel everyone’s eyes on you as you walk behind your professor.

he closes the door behind him and urges you to sit down as he takes a seat in front of you.

“i’m sorry to hear about your father yn”, he starts and you furrow your brows, utterly confused. “i would like for you to meet with the principal so we can hopefully come to an understanding about how you will be completing your semester over here”, he continues and you’re lost.

“i’m sorry but i don’t quite follow”, you say, and he just blinks back at you.

“do you not know? have you not seen the news?”, he asks, surprised.

“what news?”, you ask again and watch as he fetches out his phone, handing it to you. and there it was, the headline that made your jaw drop.

“mr. __ a certified criminal, took bribes and laundered money”.

what the fuck? your eyes quickly scan the article, reading the things your father was being accused of. there was no way he would do that, he wouldn't you thought. you look back up at your professor and hand the phone back to him, at a complete loss for words.

“i really had no idea about this”, you tell. “i think it would be better for you to go home today and then we can have a talk about this later this week along with the principal okay”, he says and you’re dismissed. you take a deep breath as you open the door and walk out, and hallway is quick to quiet down and you can feel the eyes of everyone on you.

“hope your father rots in jail”, you hear a guy say and the others laugh. you hear a few more snide remarks as you walk out back to your car and you take a deep breath again. what the fuck was happening right now. you start the car and drive to your father’s house because you need answers.

you storm into the house, and your father is already sitting down at the table with his lawyer. “can someone please explain what is going on”, you yell as soon as you see your father.

“yn” , your father says, upon seeing you.

“you took bribes??”, you ask and you can see the small flash of hurt on his face before he composes himself as he answers you. “no yn, this is simply not true. i am being falsely accused”, he says calmly.

“so what’s going to happen now?”, you ask.

“this is defamation, there is absolutely no evidence to these claims”, your father fills in.

a week passes by and you somehow manage to make it to class, but obviously, everyone is still talking about you. rumors are goingand around like wildfire and people keep telling you nasty things, leaving you mean comments on your social media. even the paparazzi around you are following you everywhere suddenly and you hate this. your whole world was turning upside down and you find yourself driving to your father’s house that evening again, only to see people crowded around the house. puzzled, you get out of your car and you're immediately surrounded by the paparazzi and a hound of people as they recognise you. you see your father in the crowd and that’s when you notice the police officers and then the handcuff on your father’s hands.

“father!”, you yell out and he looks at you. you try to move forward, make your way towards him but someone pushes you down before someone else grabs your hand. “you little thief, no wonder you’re so rich”, he mutters out and you try to pry his hand off you but he doesn’t let go. “yn!” you hear your father yell and soon the police pry the man off you. you watch as your father is escorted into the police vehicle he’s driven off.

the camera flashes continue and people keep yelling nasty things and you run towards your car, getting in and following the police car. at the police station, you get a chance to talk to your father with his lawyer present.

“what is happening?”, you ask. “i thought you said this was a false accusation, why are you being arrested?”, you ask, looking between your father and his lawyer, jeonghan who was a competent man in his line of business.

“it seems there has been some evidence found", your father says, in a rather relaxed manner.

“so what’s going to happen now?”, you ask, worried.

“i will have to stand trial and prove my innocence”, he adds. you see as he glances down at your wrist which you’re massaging gently.

“are you okay, i saw what happened back there’, he adds.

“y-yeah im okay”, you tell quickly.

“no, this is not okay. you’re going to be affected by all the things happening now and things are getting dangerous and out of hand”, he tells.

“i can manage”, you say.

“no, you cannot, things will only get worse from here, especially when the trial starts and they are all going to be taking their anger out on you. i cannot risk anything happening to you. so it’s decided”, your father says.

“what’s decided?”, you ask.

“you’ll be having a bodyguard with you 24/7 from now onwards”, your father adds.

“what? father there is no need-", you start before you're interrupted.

“yn listen to your father, he is right” jeonghan interjects and you sigh. there was no point arguing over here. in hindsight, things were bound to get out of control and having a bodyguard around did seem wise. the thought that something worse could happen to you makes you shiver.

“hire only the best”, my father tells and jeonghan nods. “i know just the person” he tells, assuring my father.

you didn’t step out of your house the next day. paparazzi surrounded your home and you were in no ability to go out without being followed. the pictures of your father’s arrest and your face were plastered all over the internet and new articles, with all sorts of headlines. by 12pm everyone seemed to have gotten tired of waiting (thank god) and your driveway was finally clear. you’re in jeans and a top, rummaging through your pantry when you hear your doorbell ring. you immediately stand straight. who could this be?

you walk towards your door and peek through the peephole but you can only see the body of someone and you hear a voice you recognise. your father’s lawyer - jeonghan, so you open the door.

“i didn’t know you were coming”, you tell and smile. “i texted you”, he adds. “must've missed it”, you add before glancing at the other man standing next to him, who you noticed was quite tall.

“please come in “, you add only for jeonghan to refuse. “no no, i must get going to prepare for your father’s case. i just came to introduce you to your bodyguard”, he explains.

“oh, i see”, you tell softly.

“he’ll be with you wherever you’re going. escort and protect you wherever you’re going. i’ve already briefed him and given him a copy of your schedules, but if you’re going anywhere, he is to accompany you”, he tells you, making sure you knew, like he knew you would try to sneak off.

“yes yes alright”, you tell, crossing your arms over your chest.

“well, get introduced then, i have to get going”, he tells, as his phone rings and he walks off, leaving you standing in front of the door with this mysterious man.

as you look at him, you realise how tall he was because wow, he was really tall, and really handsome. he towered over you easily as you looked up at him. he’s wearing a clean, crisp black suit, which has been tailored to his body, making the fit perfect, showing off his build and his hair was styled to expose his forehead. his foxy-like eyes hold a mysterious but focused gaze. damn, he was hot. your eyes sweep over his body one more time before he’s clearing his throat and you're shaken away from your thoughts.

“hello, im jeon wonwoo and i'll be your bodyguard from today”, he tells, his voice deep as he looks at you, his alluring gaze catching your attention.

“hi! i’m yn! nice to meet you”, you say a little too enthusiastically as you hold out your hand for a handshake. you’re already cringing at your actions but wonwoo reaches out and shakes your hand nonetheless and gives you a small nod.

after that there is a moment of awkward silence before you speak again. “um i don’t think i’ll be going anywhere today so you can start tomorrow”, you tell. you didn’t want him to be waiting around unnecessarily. he just looks down at you.

“i have been assigned to stay by your side at all times”, he tells. “but i’m just going to be home”, you tell. “it’s fine uh - i can call you wonwoo right?”, you ask and he gives you a curt yes.

“right wonwoo, it’s all right, just clock off work, it’s fine for today”, you tell and he looks like he’s thinking before he speaks again.

“if you insist”, is all he says before he gives you a small nod of acknowledgement, telling you he’ll be here tomorrow before he’s turning around and walking off.

the next morning, you’re sleeping peacefully when you hear your doorbell ring. who was at your doorstep so early? you must be hearing things you think. after a few moments you hear your doorbell ring again and you groan as you let out a yawn, unwillingly getting out of bed as you drag your feet to the door, your eyes barely open, still laced with sleep. you open the door to see a tall figure in front of you, your eyes still unfocused and you're confused before you hear the voice.

“good morning”, he tells and you blink your eyes a couple of times before you realise who it was.

“oh wonwoo hi”, you tell, trying to process this information. “it’s only uh-” “7am”, he fills in.

“right, 7am”, you tell, yawning again. “why are you here so early?”, you ask and your eyes a bit more awake now to take in the sight in front of you. wonwoo was adorned in another crisp suit, his hair perfectly styled and you could smell the waft of his cologne as you stood.

“my working hours start from 7am”, he tells matter of factly. “right, uh okay just come in”, you tell, moving inside, not bothering to see if he was following you. you go back to your room to fetch your phone, seeing an email from your professor. they wanted to have a meeting with the principal - well this couldn’t be good.

the entire time you’re getting ready, wonwoo is just standing in one corner of your hall. you told him he could sit but he insisted on standing so you just shrug your shoulders and let it go. you don’t have the time to eat breakfast and you lock your house door, about to get in the car when wonwoo speaks again.

“i’ll drive”, he tells, holding his hand out for the key.

“oh no, it’s fine i can manage”, you tell.

“i’ve been told to drive you wherever you need”, he adds, looking at you and he had the look of someone you did not want to interfere in his work with.

there was no point arguing with this man was there? you sigh, handing him the key and sitting in the front seat next to him because sitting in the complete back would make you feel weird. wonwoo somehow knew the route to your college and he parks the car effortlessly in the parking lot, which is honestly impressive. (or you just had bad parking skills shh)

you see the crowd as you step out, and through all the people and you can even spot a few paparazzi if you looked carefully. you glance back at wonwoo and then the campus entrance. if you went with wonwoo, you were definitely going to get attention - unwanted attention that is. he was obviously going to stand out in that outfit of his.

“just stay here, i’ll be back, it’ll be quick”, you say.

“i'm afraid i can’t do that, i’m assingned to accompany you wherever you go as your bodyguard”, he says, looking at you.

“i know, but i’ll be quick, nothing will happen”, you add as you unbuckle your seatbelt.

“i will be accompanying you”, he responds. even with all those looks he was really dense huh, it was like talking to a wall.

“fine god just come”, you finally tell, slightly annoyed. jeonghan really got you a tough bodyguard didn't he.

as soon as you step foot on campus, everyone’s head turns towards you and obviously everyone is whispering something about the man following behind you - wonwoo. you mentally curse as the crowd around you becomes larger as you walk, everyone stopping to see what was going on. wonwoo is quick to maintain an arm’s distance outside as he walks beside you and making sure people don't surround you. you try to look down as you just walk ahead, straight into the principal's office. wonwoo stands outside.

“yn glad you could make it”, your professor says, as the principal sits beside, just giving you a small nod.

“what did we need to talk about”, you ask, looking between your principal and professor.

you watch as your principal sits up straighter, interlocking his palms on the table before they speak.

“i know you just have a semester left before you graduate”, he starts off. “but given the current situation, it would be hard for us to continue classes with you being present”, he adds.

“i could do online classes”, you suggest but you principle just shakes his head.

“yn, we acknowledge the effort and dedication you have demonstrated throughout your academic journey at our institution. your accomplishments have been commendable, and we recognize the hard work you have put into your studies”, he starts. “we really do yn”, your professor adds.

“but we have to bring attention to a significant concern that has risen due to recent incidents involving you and a related controversy”, your principal continues.

oh god, where was this conversation going. you’re about to open your mouth to speak when your principle starts talking again.

“the college has carefully assessed the situation and after thorough consideration, it has been determined that unfortunately, you will be unable to graduate at this time. this decision is a result of the impact of the controversy on the overall reputation and values of the institution”, he finishes and it takes you two seconds to fully understand the situation and what was exactly going on right now.

“what?”, you let out, shocked. “we know this might be sudden but we are-”,

“no no, this is not fair, you can’t do this”, you interject.

“it is fair, considering the reputation of our institution is on the line”, he adds.

“excuse me?”, you scoff. “i'm in no way related to what is going on right now”, you add.

“it is involving your father”, he says. “exactly, my father, not me. so i do not see why you would have to go to this extreme”, you tell, not letting this go lightly.

“yn”, your professor says in a warning tone.

“four years. four years of my life i’ve spent studying and working hard and you’re just gonna throw that all away and not let me graduate over a controversy? over something that is not true let me tell you that”, you tell, upset. “that’s not right and not fair”, you add. “letting me graduate is the least you can do, it’s only a semester come on”, you plead.

“the decision is final”, your principal tells.

“what no, you can let me take the semester later, i can still graduate then”, you suggest, trying to be hopeful but the air in the room was tense.

“yn thank you for your time and we wish you all the luck in your future”, you principal tells, completely dismissing you.

“you can’t do this, you’ll be hearing from me remember that”, you tell, standing up and pulling the door open, walking out. the hallways are thankfully relatively empty because it’s class hours and everyone was in the lecture halls or study rooms. but as you turn you bump into jaehyun.

“jaehyun hi!”, you tell as you approach him. “i'm so sorry i haven’t been able to text you, i’ve been so occupied”, you tell as jaehyun barely looks at you as you speak, checking his phone, texting someone else.

“i’m free this week though so i thought we could go out to dinner or something”, you suggest, hoping that maybe a date would help you get your mind off things.

“yeah i’m not sure about that”, he tells. “oh are you busy? we can-”

“listen yn, considering everything going on right now, i wouldn’t want to be seen with you”, he tells and you’re hurt by his words.

“but i don’t see how that matters if you like me”, you tell, trying to hold it together.

jaehyun only lets out a small laugh. “like you? i only dated you because you were rich, was a nice thing to boast about until your dad had to be revealed as a thief”, he tells, mocking you and his words sting.

“that’s not true”, you tell. “i hope he rots in jail”, he adds, before leaving, having completely trampled over your heart and feelings.

you’ve completely forgotten about wonwoo and it’s only when you turn around that you see him, a few paces behind you and no doubt he heard everything, just great. you bite the inside of your cheek as you look down, walking ahead and walking straight to the car, embarrassed but also upset. you get in the car, not bothering for wonwoo to open the door for you and sit inside, tears welling in your eyes. wonwoo stands outside like he’s unsure, giving you a moment of privacy before you’re rolling down the window and telling him to drive you home.

the car ride is quiet and you’re just looking out the window the entire time, trying not to cry. it wasn't fair. any of this wasn’t fair. you just wanted to curl up and hide right now. you can feel your stomach rumbling, protesting for not being given breakfast and you sigh, putting a hand on your stomach. now that you were aware, you were actually really hungry. you had half the mind to stop somewhere and buy something but you didn’t want to deal with people right now.

“did you eat breakfast?”, you ask wonwoo, feeling suffocated with the silence in the car.

“not exactly, but i did eat something”, he informs. you nod your head, thinking of what else to ask him.

“so how come you chose this bodyguard business”, you ask, glancing over at wonwoo.

“it suits me, i’m good at it”, he replies, giving you a short answer.

“right, i see”.

a few more seconds of silence follows before wonwoo speaks. “are you okay?”, he asks, his eyes still trained on the road ahead of him. his question takes you aback. it had been ages since someone asked you that. are you okay? those three words that had the capability of making you rethink your life and look into yourself. were you okay? no, not really. life sucked right now and you wanted nothing more than to just curl up in bed and cry.

“i-i don’t know”, you answer, letting out a sigh as your fingers play with your mother's ring on your hand, something you did when you were anxious or lost in thought.

“i’m used to it, it’s fine”, you add quickly.

after a few more minutes, wonwoo is pulling up into your driveway and he parks the car, getting out. you don’t know how this man managed to walk so fast because just as you’re about to turn your body to open the door, wonwoo is already there, holding the car door open for you.

“oh um thank you”, you tell softly as you get out.

you realized it was going to take you a while to break into wonwoo’s wall and befriend him. it looked like he was going to be with you for a while, until the trial was over atleast so might as well become friends. he did prove to be a hell though, it was like talking to a robot, but who said you weren’t up for the challenge?

it’s a new week and wonwoo is driving you to the cat shelter since it’s your day to volunteer today. atleast during all these sudden changes in your life, this was a constant. it felt comforting in a way. the animal shelter was run by a sweet lady who also adored you. coming here always made you feel better, no matter how shitty your day had been.

you enter the shelter and immediately all the cats recognise your scent and meow, as if they were welcoming you. the owner comes out to see what the commotion was about and smiles upon seeing you.

“yn! it’s so nice to see you”, she greets, pulling you in for a hug.

“it’s good to be back”, you tell.

“who’s this mystery man”, she asks, referring to wonwoo.

“my bodyguard. with everything happening and the trial and all, things are getting out of hand ”, you explain and she nods. “quite the catch isn’t he”, she says, teasing you and you chuckle.

“i'm so sorry to hear about all this though, just know i’m here for you”, she tells.

“thank you”, you tell, grateful.

“well you carry on, i just need to finish writing these invoices and i’ll join you”, she adds, walking back to the office room and you’re left alone with all the cats.

“hello fluffy”, you tell, looking down to the cat who’s brushing against your legs,

wonwoo stands at the side of the room like he’s been punished even though you again insist that he can sit down but he insists on standing. you sigh, whatever suited him. you turn your attention back to the cats surrounding you and start your duties.

you had to clean their litter, feed them and make sure the ones who were on medication were given the medicine. after you’re done cleaning the litter, you realise you need to open a new bag of litter, the only problem? it was 15kgs heavy and in no way were you capable of lifting that huge bag to the litterbox area. you go back to the front and wonwoo is still standing, his hands neatly folded in front of him as he just stares at the wall. he really needs to relax you thought. you walk up to him, hands on your hip.

“i need your help, come here”, you ask and you hear the shuffle of wonwoo’s feet behind you as you walk.

“can you help me lift this?”, you ask, holding one end of the bag. wonwoo doesn’t say a word as he holds the bag and lifts it himself effortlessly and carries it to where you want it. damn, he was strong.

you fill up the box with new litter, washing your hands and come back to the front.

“i have a surprise for you”, you hear the owner say and she walks towards one of the boxes covered by a cloth. she uncovers it and a second later you hear a high pitched meow, followed by another and another.

“oh my god”, you squeal. “poe littered! i completely forgot she was due”, you tell, looking as she brings the box down and the kittens overflow out of the box in a frenzy, climbing out of the box and making their way towards you with their wobbly but determined feet. you bend down to see them and they’re adorable. you watch as the battalion of kittens make their way to wonwoo, climbing on his shoes and meowing up at him, ambushing him practically.

you giggle as one cheeky kitten even climbs up wonwoo’s suit and all the way to his shoulder, sitting there perched while wonwoo just stands there, completely ignoring the fact that he was being attacked by vicious kittens right now.

“you should adopt that one, it likes you”, you tell as you hold a kitten in your hands, referring to the one sitting perched on his shoulder.

“i already have a cat at home”, he tells and this piece of information makes you raise your brows in surprise.

“really? you have a cat”, you ask in surprise. “i do”, he answers quietly.

“oh my god, show me a picture”, you ask.

wonwoo only blinks at you. “i refrain from using my phone during work hours”, he tells smoothly and you roll your eyes.

“come on wonwoo, don’t be like that. it’s fine, just show me”, you ask again. “please?”, you add and wonwoo looks at you for a few more seconds before he’s moving his hand to remove his phone from his jacket pocket. the kitten on his shoulder makes a move, almost about to fall but wonwoo is quick to catch it and it’s now sitting in the palm of his hand, as he operates his phone with the other hand. he turns his phone towards you, revealing the picture of his cat.

“her name is oreo”, he tells.

“aww she’s so pretty and so cute!!”, you exclaim. wonwoo’s cat was gorgeous actually. she was a black cat with white paws, white whiskers and a patch of white on her neck and chest.

“she’s a rescue too”, he adds, and that little piece of information lifts your heart.

“that’s nice. her little white paws are adorable oh my gosh”, you tell as you smile up at wonwoo. “they’re like little socks”, you say, chuckling at yourself as you hand his phone back to him. you notice how the kitten in his hand was busy chewing the end of his tie. if you looked carefully, you could see the faintest hint of a smile on his lips right now as he watched the kitten playing in his hands. how cute.

wonwoo drives you back home after you finish all your duties at the shelter and you get a text from jeonghan about your father’s trial. the first trial was set for next week.

you're just at home and you’re certainly not used to the intrusion to your sleep at 7am every day now when wonwoo comes to work to start his duties. you told him to stay at home and you’d call him if you needed him but no, he didn’t listen. so here he was at 7am on the dot everyday at your doorstep. you yawn as you open the door, mumbling something to wonwoo about changing his work timings to 9am instead.

you’re brushing your teeth, walking around the room and you can see wonwoo standing as usual. you wash your face and head towards the kitchen. you needed coffee now. you glance towards wonwoo occasionally because honestly, even if he was just standing there, he looked so….effortlessly handsome. oh my god. you should not be having these thoughts right now. it was too early for this. you really needed some coffee to get your head straight.

“do you want some coffee?”, you ask wonwoo as you look at him.

“i’m good, thank you”, he says. of course he was going to say that.

“how do you like your coffee?”, you prod him again.

“black”, he says.

and of course he likes his coffee black.

“well, i like a latte, ice or hot depending on my mood, sometimes with caramel sauce if i’m feeling fancy but otherwise mostly plain”, you tell, dumping this piece of information onto wonwoo as you struggle to open your coffee powder jar. you try again but it wasn’t budging. you try again this time, trying to concentrate all your strength onto your hand, but it didn’t work and it wasn’t opening. without a word, wonwoo comes forward and offers to open it. he takes the jar from your hands and opens it effortlessly in one shot, probably because of his super strength. you mumble out a thank you and instead of letting him go back to that sad corner beside the wall, you ask him to take a seat in front.

“wonwoo, you should know that you standing there at the side of the room like you’ve been punished is just extremely weird. please sit, i’m not gonna kill you, seriously, i’m a nice person”, you explain, your hand pointing to the stool that was on the left of him. “i would prefer-”, he starts. “no, i would prefer if you just sat please. you’re supposed to listen to whatever i say right”, you tell, looking at him with your hands crossed over your chest.

he doesn’t say anything but finally takes a seat and you do a little celebration inside your head. “see! that’s so much better”, you tell, already feeling at ease.

you continue making your coffee and you’re halfway through making your coffee when you hear your doorbell ring. you glance at wonwoo before putting your mug down. but wonwoo gets up, telling you he’ll check who it was.

“who are you?”, you hear wonwoo ask as he opens the door and you walk up to the door, curious. “who is it?”, you ask and when the person comes into view, you let out an excited squeal.

“RANIAA”, you exclaim, accidentally pushing wonwoo to the side as you pull rania inside, only to see skye behind them. “OH MY GOD”, you exclaim again, pulling rania into a hug and then skye. meanwhile wonwoo just stands in the corner of the cramped doorstep, regaining his balance from your not so subtle shove.

“what are you guys doing here”, you ask, once all the excitement has toned down and both rania and skye are seated on the couch.

“we’ve been seeing the news and everything that’s been happening”, skye says.

“so we came to support you, it must be so hard right now”, rania adds.

“aw you guys are really the best”, you tell. it had been years since you last saw them, both of them having moved to different countries. though you guys were separated by distance, you were still connected by your unhinged and chaotic group chat.

“by the way, who’s the handsome hunk over there”, rania asks, not so subtly.

“rania jeez, he’s my bodyguard calm down”, you tell but you don’t miss the glint in their eyes.

“is he single”, rania asks and you glare at them.

“stop it”, you tell and skye chuckles beside you.

“wait, weren’t you dating jaehyun?”, skye adds and your face falls. “yeah about that, he uh dumped me”, you tell and skye is quick to pull you in a reassuring embrace.

“this is your sign to date that guy, shoot your shot before it’s too late bestie”, rania encourages, making you laugh.

“enough about me, how are you guys? how’s seungkwan and soonyoung”, you ask, eager to know more about them. you watch as rania and skye exchange a glance between themselves before looking at you.

“they’re coming here tomorrow”, they tell in unison and you almost yell. “really?”, you ask, shocked but also excited.

“they wanted to see you too so we dragged them along with us, but there was a goof up with the plane tickets and they had to rebook on a different flight”, skye explains.

“it’s okay, we can all go out together tomorrow”, you tell and they smile.

rania and skye end up going back at the end of the day and poor wonwoo had to witness you three maybe talk a little too much. you were sure he was glad when he clocked off work, beyond relieved he didn’t have to hear you all chatter anymore. even though you told him he could leave early, that you were going to just be home, he again didn't listen to you, saying that he would stay, saying something about upholding his duty. rania bombarded him with too many questions and you were sure he was going to get more from seungkwan and soonyoung tomorrow, poor guy.

the next day you’re excited to see your besties again and wonwoo is yet again standing near the wall like he’s a statue. you’ve given up at this point really. before they arrived, you briefed wonwoo on being nice to them, especially to seungkwan and soonyoung, who were probably going to hound him with questions again today. “don’t be mean to them if they ask you questions”, you tell, pointing a finger at wonwoo. “be nice to them okay?”, you tell, adding a little glare to make sure your point went across.

you wear a simple yet cute outfit and before you know it, your house is filled with laughter and smiles as soonyoung and seungkwan greet you.

“oh my god, it’s so nice to see you guys!”, you tell, excited as soonyoung and seungkwan smile back at you. “same here yn”, they tell.

“we planned a little double date”, skye tells. “make it a triple date, you can ask wonwoo to join”, rania adds, winking at you and you roll your eyes at her.

“who is what”, seungkwan asks, finally noticing the other presence in the room.

“my bodyguard. given the current situation my father thought it would be best”, you explain.

“woah he looks strong”, soonyoung adds and before you know it, both the boys make their way to wonwoo while you girls decide on where to go for your little double or well triple date.

“hello”, soonyoung says to wonwoo. wonwoo only responds with a small nod of his head, standing still.

“how long have you been a bodyguard for?”, seungkwan asks.

wonwoo glances at seungkwan, looks him up and down before answering. “four years”, wonwoo tells.

“woah! so how’d you become one? is there like a special training school for this?”, soonyoung asks, completely serious and utterly curious.

“it’s a sub branch in the security industry”, is all wonwoo answers with.

“can i ask you a question”, seungkwan asks, bringing his hand around wonwoo’s shoulder which wonwoo shrugs off in a second.

“what do you think of yn?”, seungkwan adds, acting like he wasn’t just shrugged off by wonwoo.

“yn is my client”, wonwoo says, like he’s stating a fact.

“i know she’s your client dude but what do you think of her, you know?”, seungkwan adds, trying to knock some sense into wonwoo, who clearly didn’t have any romantic braincell.

“you should take her out on a date, cheer her up. i'm sure she feels bad about everything happening with her father and all”, seungkwan explains nicely.

“yeah!”, soonyoung adds. we’re going on a double date anyway, you can join us and it’ll become a triple date”, soonyoung adds with enthusiasm.

wonwoo just stares at these two boys like they’re idiots before answering. “that’s not in my job description”, he tells.

seungkwan visibly gets annoyed. “man, you’re really dense you know”, he adds. “it’s gonna hurt your romantic life in the long run buddy”, seungkwan adds with a look.

wonwoo doesn’t say anything and that was the last straw for seungkwan and he grabs soonyoung’s arm, both of them making their way to the couch where you were busy chatting.

“okay, so we’re getting sushi”, rania announces and everyone cheers. you guys headed to the sushi place, wonwoo, you, rania and skye in one car and seungkwan and soonyoung following behind in the car they rented. you reach the sushi place and you guys sit inside. it seemed like today was your lucky day because you didn’t see any paps around or didn’t anyone seem to recognise you. you all took a seat while wonwoo told you that he’d wait by the car. you asked him (while rania almost yelled at him to join us) but he was stern about staying by the car. you let him be because you didn’t want to inconvenience him at the end of the day. you weren’t going to cross his boundaries if he didn’t want to. you finish your sushi date and come home happy and satisfied.

later that week, you get to meet with jeonghan, your father’s lawyer, to see how things are going regarding your father’s trial.

“so mr. jeon has been telling me you haven’t been going to college? i know things have been bad but missing classes in your last semester is not the thing to be doing”, jeonghan tells.

“he’s reporting to you now is he?”, you ask, your brow raised. “well i did hire him”, he adds.

“i’m not missing classes on purpose…it’s just that”, you start sighing. “they told me i can’t graduate because of everything happening and father’s controversy. something about damaging the institution’s reputation”, you tell and jeonghan sits up straighter.

“why didn’t you tell me anything before?”, jeonghan asks.

“i was going to! but then it just slipped my mind, and i know you’ve been busy too”, you add, hoping to redeem yourself.

jeonghan gives you a knowing look. “yn this is no small matter, i will look into this and make sure you can graduate. this is a ridiculous thing to do”, he tells and you nod in approval. “thanks” , you tell and he nods.

“how are you finding your bodyguard?”, jeonghan asks and you already sigh.

“he’s so…i don’t know, he’s so good at what he does but also kinda intimidating. he barely speaks it feels like i’m talking to a wall half the time”, you tell, chuckling. “but he’s cute”, you add, that tiny detail making jeonghan laugh.

“i think it’ll take some time to befriend him but i’m on it”, you add and jeonghan gives you a look. “just don’t get too close”, he adds with a warning.

you were at the library today, you needed an escape and books seemed like the perfect solace right now. you’re wearing a simple outfit, black jeans with a purple top and a jacket on top because somehow even though the sun was up, the air was chilly and windy. you’re busy arranging the books that have been borrowed back in their rightful places, already knowing which book and genre goes where. wonwoo follows you around silently while you’re aimlessly talking to him about each book you pick up and put back on the shelf, offering him information about it - if you had read it, if it was on your TBR, if it was good, bad or worth a read. wonwoo seemed to be listening to you keenly. you grab the next book, and start telling wonwoo about it.

“i read this book years ago and i still love it to this date, the characters were so funny. but if i’m being honest the guy in this book was kinda an ass”, you add, as you locate the book’s spot on the shelf that was all the way at the top. you went on your tiptoes to reach it, trying to place it but missed. “and now that i’m older, the girl in the book was also a bit stupid you know, like-” you continue, but you feel wonwoo come up behind you and see his hand reach out, taking the book from your outstretched arm and placing in on the shelf with ease. you turn around, looking up at wonwoo, who is now so close to you.

“why do you think the character was stupid?”, he asks, looking at you curiously. you blink up at him before answering, your mind suddenly distracted as you try to form a coherent sentence. “you know like-it was young love and-uh and they did-some stupid things-that um-i only realised when i got older-”, you stutter out, a flustered mess as you continue to look up at wonwoo. he looked so pretty up close and you could smell his cologne, which only made you want to lean into his presence. you feel your cheeks heat up as you look at him, starting to get lost in his eyes, his gaze. the way he looked at you like nothing else mattered to him apart from you made your heart race. you could feel your heart thumping loudly against your chest as you opened your mouth to speak again but closed it as no words came out. you step to the side, trying to create some distance between wonwoo, but you end up tripping on the stool that was placed there, almost falling, but wonwoo is quick to catch you, his arms catching your waist as he pulls your body against his.

“watch where you step”, wonwoo says as he holds you, and you’re acutely aware of how his hands feel on your body, the way he holds you, strong but gentle. and the way he’s looking at you makes your mind seem to go blank and the faint feeling of butterflies erupts in your stomach. “t-thanks”, you quickly say before you straighten out and stand on your own. you quickly grab a book from the cart and turn around, trying to calm your over-excited heart as you pretend to walk ahead before wonwoo calls out for you.

“isn’t the historical section that way?”, he asks and you look at the book in your hand. it was a historical book indeed. you huff out a breath and turn around, speed walking past wonwoo as you find the shelf and put the book back in place as you mutter to yourself about why wonwoo had to be so attentive, observant and stupidly attractive.

today is your father’s first trial and you were nervous,. even though jeonghan told you that you didn’t have to come, you wanted to. you knew your father needed your support right now, regardless of how rocky your relationship has been with him. so here you were in the car, nervous, while wonwoo was well, calm. but it was nice, having a calm energy near you, it sort of grounded you.

you turn the corner to the court and god, it was crowded. people had surrounded the road and courthouse, media and paparazzi waiting to snap photos and cover the event. you realised how serious this was and what it would mean if your father was found guilty, shit.

you observed the crowd, ducking down in your seat a little, already feeling overwhelmed. you hated crowds, especially crowds like this. you knew it wasn’t the good type of crowd and the sense of dread was already pooling in your stomach. maybe you should just turn the car around and go home. your hand is anxiously playing with the ring on your finger and as the car pulls up to the entrance to the courthouse, you can hear the screams and yells of people and see the flashes of light go off as the media take photos.

you gulp, anxious and the car comes to a halt. wonwoo swiftly gets down and he is quick to open your side of the car. it takes you a second to get out and the minute you get out, people surround you even more. If it wasn’t for the police barricade and wonwoo beside you, you were sure you’d have been trampled.

wonwoo is swift as he guides you inside, making sure no one touches you. he envelopes his other hand around your shoulder, but doesn’t touch you, having a gentleman’s hand while he guides you and you’re relieved once you step inside the building and the yells of people die down. you enter the trial room and take a seat. you spot your father and jeonghan and give them a small smile. your father - well he looked tired. you were just hoping jeonghan could get him through this because you don’t know what you were going to do otherwise.

the prosecution was really piling up all sorts of accusations against your father, but jeonghan was well prepared and defended whatever was coming up. firstly, according to what jeonghan had mentioned, there was no evidence or even if there was it could have been tampered with. the anonymous said person who was said to have tipped off the police with the evidence could not be trusted. jeonghan insisted that this person testify in court and that this anonymous person should be brought in for questioning.

by the time the first trial is done, it’s already been four hours. the next trial would be held in a few days where witnesses will be brought forward to testify. but from the hush talks in the room after the court was adjourned, you could tell no one was really on your father's side. your father’s company stocks had dropped, brand deals were pulling out and things were obviously not in your father’s favour at all. you were going to try everything in your power to bring your father’s company back up again and prove to everyone that he was indeed innocent. because there’s no way he would have done those things, right?

as you manage to locate jeonghan, who sits down with you for a bit, he tells you about a message from your father.

“you know the annual business charity club ball that your father attends every year right”, jeonghan says. “yeah”, you tell.

“well, obviously since you father cannot go this year, he’s asked you to go in his place”, jeonghan finishes and you give him a look.

“me? you know i hate that event”, you tell.

“but it’s been planned and it cannot be cancelled, not even in this situation. so, you’re going and it’s final. i will text you the location and date later. but please go, atleast for your father’s sake. he’s losing a lot of people right now so if you could try to restore people’s faith and trust in you and your father, it would be helpful”, jeonghan tells.

“fine, i guess that’s the least i can do”, you tell as you look at jeonghan. “is he okay? he’ll be okay right?”, you ask and jeonghan nods. “he should be, i’m doing everything in my power to defend him”, jeonghan answers.

you exit the meeting room with jeonghan and he takes off, saying he has to arrange some documents for the next trial. you weren’t able to meet your father because they didn’t allow you to right now which was a stupid rule. you walk out and you’re looking around for wonwoo but don't see him. and in your search for him, you make the mistake of walking towards the entrance, where the media people were. they spot you and in a second you’re surrounded, with people shoving cameras and mics in your face, bombarding you with questions, all talking over each other as you panic. you try to move but they follow you and soon, you’re being pushed outside and the people outside start yelling when they see you. someone shoves you and you lose your balance, almost falling as someone else grabs your left hand. you yelp out in pain as they yank your hand and just then you feel a figure come up behind you - wonwoo. his hand embraces your shoulder this time, as he holds out another hand to block people. you can feel the hand holding yours let go as wonwoo pries it off you and he pushes people back and people actually do move back because wonwoo meant business. he guides you to the car and you sit, finally away from the crowd. it’s only when you see wonwoo up front at the drivers seat that you realise you were sitting in the passenger seat behind. you didn’t mind though. wonwoo is swift to take a seat and you can feel him look at you through the rearview mirror. he doesn’t say anything, but starts the car and drives.

by the time you get back home, it’s late, already hitting 10:30pm. it’s only when you are inside does wonwoo finally speak.

“it’s dangerous for you to go out alone”, he says, standing in front of you as you put you bag onto the countertop.

“i was looking for you but i couldn’t find you, i didn’t mean to wander off alone like that”, you try to explain. “it was all too sudden, i really didn’t know what to do”, you add.

“just wait for me next time”, he asks,

“but where were you?”, you counter.

“i was at the east wing door, waiting for you to finish talking but when i looked inside, you weren’t there.

“oh, i think i exited from the door on the other side, that’s why”, you tell.

"if you don’t see me, call me next time, please”, he says and you nod in understanding.

wonwoo’s eyes glance down to your hand, the slightest marks of a bruise visible. “is your hand okay?”, he asks, taking a step forward to examine it further. “yeah, it’s fine, it’s-”, you stop as you look at your hand, only to see it bare. your ring, it wasn’t there. you look down on the floor, thinking it must've fallen there but it’s not. your other hand caresses your empty hand where the ring used to be, hoping that it wasn’t really missing but you don’t feel it. you don’t feel the ring. you feel the panic start to set in as you realise what’s just happened. fuck. then it hits you, the courtroom. it must've been pulled off when your hand was grabbed. you had to go back there, you had to look for it.

“we have to go back”, you tell wonwoo, as you step forward, but wonwoo is quick to stop you.

“yn, it’s late”, he tells sternly.

“no you don’t understand, i lost my ring, it must’ve fallen there, i need to find it”, you tell frantically and wonwoo doesn’t understand why you’ve become so worked up over a ring.

“it’s just a ring yn, you can get another one”, he tells and you snap your head up at him, visibly upset. just a ring?

“it’s not just a ring wonwoo”, you tell, tears prickling in your eyes. “you wouldn’t understand, fuck, i have to-i have to find it”, you tell again but wonwoo’s hand is firm as he holds you back again.

“yn”, he says. “no we need to go now”, you yell, pulling your arm loose from his grip “i’ll go myself”, you counter, trying to reach for the car keys on the counter but wonwoo pulls your hand away.

“yn we’ll go later alright”, he tells. “no no no we need to go now”, you yell again, a tear escaping your eyes, rolling down your cheeks slowly. your vision gets blurry and you move back, panic setting in. fuck how could you lose your mothers precious ring.

“no no no, this can’t be happening”, you mumble. you try to feel for your ring again, hoping that it was all just a misunderstanding, but your finger was empty. you don’t hear wonwoo calling out to you as you ears start ringing and your eyes fill with tears again. “i’m such an idiot how could i lose it”, you tell yourself, beating yourself up over the incident.

wonwoo realised you were having a panic attack, and he also realised that what he said could have been triggering. “yn”, says, coming towards you and you feel the weight of his hands on your shoulders as he looks down at you and you look up at him, a few more tears rolling down your cheeks. “we’ll find your ring okay”, he says, his voice somehow grounding you back to reality. “i promise we’ll go back to find it, but not right now.”, he adds. another tear rolls down your cheek as you sniffle, looking up at wonwoo, feeling helpless. “we’ll find it right”, you ask, your voice barely a whisper. “we will”, he assures.

wonwoo guides you to the couch and is quick to fetch you a glass of water. surprisingly, he takes a seat next to you, pushing the glass of water to you. you see him reach for something in his jacket pocket and then he reaches his hand out, offering it to you, his handkerchief. you gladly take the handkerchief and dab your cheeks dry, wiping your tears and sniffling as you try to calm down. wonwoo watches as you raise the glass to your lips and take a sip of water. there is silence between you both, unsure of what to say. you close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to gather yourself and your thoughts.

“i’m sorry”, you mumble out, feeling bad at lashing out at wonwoo and maybe a little embarrassed about crying in front of him. you hated people seeing you cry.

“i should be sorry, it was insensitive of me to say that”, he says, as he watches you take another sip of water. you put the glass down, looking at your finger where your ring adorned it.

“it was my mother’s ring”, you tell quietly after a few moments of silence. “after she passed away, it was the only token i had to remember her by”, you tell softly, lifting you head up to see wonwoo’s gaze soften as he looks at you. “it’s the only thing i have left of her”, you say, feeling yourself tear up again as you shift your gaze back down to your lap. you look back up at wonwoo and there’s something different about him, a softness in his gaze, his expression and language. “i’m sorry to hear about your mother”, he tells. you offer him a small smile. “it’s okay, i’ve come to terms with it, besides i was really young when it happened”, you add.

you glance at the clock on the wall, seeing the time and releasing that it was late, that it was past wonwoo’s working hours. “oh”, you say softly as your eyes glance at wonwoo and back to the clock. “i’m sorry if i held you back”, you say, referring to the time. wonwoo quickly checks the time on the wristwatch adorning his hand before he looks back up at you.

“i can stay, if you want me to”, he adds. “are you sure?”, you ask, unsure. he nods. “just another hour then”, you ask and he gives you a yes. deep down you were glad he was staying back. you didn’t think you could handle being alone right now, especially after what happened.

there are a few more seconds of silence before wonwoo speaks, suggesting that you should eat dinner perhaps, considering you hadn’t really had a proper lunch either, being too anxious about your father’s trial.

“i need a burger”, you tell after a few minutes of silence. “do you want me to place a delivery order for you?”, wonwoo asks. you shake your head. “no they don’t deliver, we’ll have to go there”, you tell and wonwoo looks unsure for a second. “it’s closeby, i’ll show you the way”, you tell, already standing up.

you both get in the car and you show wonwoo the directions as he drives. you come by the place and park and you’re about to get out when wonwoo stops you.

“wait, let me surf the area, see if anyone is there”, wonwoo tells, opening his door and stepping out. by anyone he meant the paparazzi of course. he walks ahead a bit, his eyes searching the area for anyone suspicious and that’s when you spot a girl sitting by the bench on the side looking at wonwoo. you knew what that look meant. wonwoo comes up by your window and you lower the glass, peeking out. you glance at the girl and then wonwoo, a laugh escaping your lips at your thoughts.

“what’s wrong?”, wonwoo asks, alert.

“that girl over there is totally checking you out”, you tell and wonwoo seems unfazed by this piece of information.

“i see three paparazzi, seems like they followed us. i suggest that you stay in the car and let me get you a takeaway”, wonwoo tells.

“that girl is totally going to ask for your number”, you add and wonwoo blinks at you.

“she won’t”, he tells, dismissing your claims.

“she totally will”, you counter and he raises a brow at you.

“wanna make a bet”, you ask. “if you lose you have to buy me ice cream”, you tell.

“what do you want me to get for you”, wonwoo asks, resting his hand on the car window.

“get me the grilled burger with fries and extra sauce”, you tell, handing wonwoo your card. wonwoo takes it as you tell him not to forget the extra sauce, adding that he should get something for himself too.

after about ten minutes, wonwoo comes into sight and just as you predicted, the girl sitting on the bench stands up and engages in a conversation with wonwoo. however, it’s short lived and wonwoo is making his way towards your car and the dejected look on the girl’s face tells you everything you need to know. wonwoo gets in the driver’s seat with the bag of food, which smelled divine, tingling your senses already.

“she asked for you number didn’t she”, you tell, teasing him a little.

“she did not”, wonwoo tells and you fake gasp.

“she totally did, i read her lips”, you state and wonwoo shakes his head and gives in, amused.

“you owe me ice cream”, you state proudly, grinning at wonwoo.

“on what occasion?”, he asks.

“because you lost the bet”, you state.

“i remember making no such deal”, he tells, like he’s teasing you, as he hands you back your card.

“whatever, just know i’ll extort this ice cream out of you one day”, you tell as you reach for the bag food.

you eat your burger in joy, proud that wonwoo in fact did not forget the extra sauce.

“did you not get anything?”, you ask, as you chew, looking at wonwoo.

“i will eat something at home, thank you for the concern”, he says. “don’t be like that!”, you tell, offering him a fry but he politely declines that too.

after you’ve devoured your burger and fries, you sigh content. “that was a good meal”, you tell, satisfied. “if only i could get a desert now”, you tell, implying to wonwoo.

“but i guess we should go, an hour is going to be up”, you tell. wonwoo steps out of the car and you’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he walks over to your side and opens the door for you.

“did you not want your ice cream?”, he asks and you look around before wonwoo tells you that the paps left. you smile and step out, happily walking up to the ice cream parlour that was right next to the burger joint. another hidden gem that served the best ice cream and sundaes.

you walk inside and sit in the corner booth all the way at the end. it gave you some privacy and was cozy. you don’t even glance at the menu before you’re telling wonwoo what you want. “a chocolate brownie fudge delight please”, you tell, grinning up at wonwoo who’s looking at you confused as he glances at the menu on the table, his eyes searching for the item you’ve just named.

“but that has two scoops of vanilla and two scoops of chocolate ice cream”, he tells. you only look at him, confused. “and a whole brownie with chocolate sauce and nuts”, he adds, like he’s questioning you.

“so?”, you ask.

“are you going to eat the whole thing?”, he asks and you scoff.

“do not underestimate my ice cream eating abilities wonwoo”, you tell offended and just then the waitress comes, taking your order.

your sundae comes and you’re already smiling but when you take that first bite, it’s heaven and you sigh again, content with life right now. wonwoo looks at you like he’s still unsure that you can finish it.

“do you want a bite? it’s really good”, you ask, pushing the bowl towards him. he politely declines again and you give him a look.

“you know, you should live life more, because you only live once”, you tell, as you put another spoonful of ice cream in your mouth. “i mean of course if you’re allergic to nuts or lactose intolerant then that’s a totally different story, but otherwise if someone tells me that they don’t eat or don’t like ice cream, i wouldn’t trust them you know. because how can you not like ice cream? it’s like one of the best things to have been created. if you don’t like ice cream then there’s a serious problem”, you ramble on to wonwoo, who’s sitting opposite you, listening to you keenly.

“also you should really talk more, i feel like i’m talking to myself half the time because you never say anything or you're always finishing your sentences in two or five words”, you tell, oblivious to the fact there was chocolate sauce on the side of your lip. “we need to come to some sort of understanding because-”, you stop mid sentence as wonwoo’s hand reaches out to wipe the corner of your mouth gently. you stare at him for a couple of seconds before the weight of his actions hits you and you start coughing, flustered. wonwoo is quick to pour you a glass of water and offer it to you.

“are you okay?, he asks, looking worried and you nod. “y-yeah”, you respond, suddenly feeling shy. you eat another spoonful of the ice cream, looking down at the bowl as you chew, feeling your cheeks heat up and you glance back up at wonwoo, whose eyes are still trained on you, and he’s looking at you deeply like he’s trying to decipher what’s going on in your mind. the way he looked at you, god, it made you feel things.

“we’ll find my ring right”, you ask again as you take the last bite of your sundae.

“i assure you that i will try my best to find it”, he replies. silence engulfs you both again.

“thank you for today”, you tell. “it was a nice distraction or change from the situation”, you tell, feeling grateful. you check the time on your phone and let out a small gasp at the time.

“oops, i guess i kept you for two hours instead of one”, you tell. “that’s not an issue”, he says. “if you ever need me, i’m always here”, he adds and somehow the way he says it feels soft, like this was his way of initiating friendship, telling you that he was indeed human and there was a sincerity in the way he said it.

“thank you”, you say, giving him a genuine smile. wonwoo drops you off at home and then leaves, bidding you goodnight. you lay in bed, replaying the events of today in your head, thinking about wonwoo. even if he perhaps looked a bit cold and indifferent, he was actually really sweet, quiet, soft and gentle. you feel a blush creep up your cheeks as you think about what he did earlier and you turn over, burying your face into the pillow, letting out an annoyed groan as you kick your feet in the air.

you don’t sleep well that night, your mind wandering to your mother’s ring and all your thoughts filled with finding it. you would find it right? you wake up at an ungodly hour and still restless before falling asleep in the early hours of the morning. when you wake up, you sleepily walk out and see a cup of takeaway coffee from your favourite cafe waiting for you. you glance at wonwoo and then at the cup of coffee.

“i thought you might want some coffee”, he fills in. “oh god i did need some coffee, thank you wonwoo”, you tell, taking a sip, grateful for his sweet gesture.

“when can we go find my ring? i really have to find it, i’ll never forgive myself otherwise”, you say, putting the coffee back on the counter as you go on a sleepy rant when wonwoo steps forward and holds out his hand. he opens it and lo and behold, your ring is there. your jaw drops and you look up at wonwoo.

“no way. you found it, you really found it”, you tell as you take the ring, examining it like you were making sure it was really yours before slipping it back on your finger.

you’re so happy and you jump at wonwoo, hugging him, “thank you thank you thank you”, you chant, feeling so relieved right now, like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. that’s when you realise what you were doing, making you step back abruptly, clearing your throat. “i mean, thank you”, you tell again, as you compose yourself. he gives you an appreciative nod and a small smile and you feel your stomach do a little somersault.

a week later the next trial is being held. you didn’t go for this one, but you got updates from jeonghan and of course the news. the headlines about your father were also ridiculous, but you were used to it at this point really. it’s like the whole world was against your father right now, everyone hated him and you of course. people were angry and demanding justice and jail time, saying he stole taxpayers' money and that he owned the people back, that he should rot in jail for the rest of his life. you shake your head and open your front door to go water your garden when you see another small box on your doorstep. you had been getting these all week. they were threats and normally you should have been scared. but you thought it was a harmless joke. you’d gotten countless threats on the internet so you just assumed it was someone having some fun. shrugging it off, you decided to not tell wonwoo about this.

the weird boxes continue to come, but you realise that they got progressively worse each time, the last two even had death threats, and threats about breaking into your house, but yet again, you didn’t take it seriously. you woke up later today, having trusted wonwoo with your house code so he could enter and start his duty and not have to wake you up at 7am every day.

when you walk to the living area, wonwoo is there. “good morning”, he greets and you yawn, waving at him. “you got a parcel”, he tells and you look at the counter, recognising the box. “shit not another one”, you mumble but wonwoo is sharp to hear it.

you open it, and this time it’s a bunch of your photos, cut up weirdly. but the worst part, your heads were cut off in all of them and there was a cryptic message too. wonwoo comes forward, sees the letter and is quick to look at you. he reaches out for the letter, taking it from your hand before you can hide it and his eyes scan over the contents of the letter, his jaw clenched.

“this isn't okay”, he says. “it probably isn’t a big deal wonwoo, i’ve been getting them all week”, you blurt out, before realising it and you can feel wonwoo’s gaze get more intense.

“what? and you didn’t think to tell me?”, he asks firmly. “i didn’t want to make big deal out it, it’s probably harmless, i get stuff like this all the time online”, you tell.

“but this isn’t online”, he says, emphasizing his words.”and it's always not a big deal until something actually happens yn, this is dangerous”, he tells, clearly upset about this, raising his voice slightly.

he makes you show him all the mail and he looks stressed to say the least. “yn you should have told me about this”, he says, stressed. “how am i supposed to protect you if i don’t know about things like this”, he adds and you can feel his eyes drill into you.

“i’m sorry wonwoo”, you say, feeling bad.

“well, it is a big deal and action will be taken”, he says. “they know your address yn, do a lot of people know your address, where you live?”, he asks, making you think and that’s when you realise. “oh”, you say. “i mean paps are around my house all the time”, you tell.

“but this isn’t a pap”, he tells. “it means this person has been following you around”, he says. “you mean like stalking?”, you ask. “yes exactly”, he tells. you gulp, suddenly realising the weight of the situation.

wonwoo looked stressed the entire day even though you told him not to worry and that you’d karate chop anyone who came near you. he didn’t laugh at your joke, obviously, just keeping a straight face. that night, wonwoo seems apprehensive to leave, worried about the threats you were getting, but you assured him that you were going to be okay, that you were going to lock all your doors and windows and sleep.

the letters and threats keep coming, each getting more violent and wonwoo doesn’t like it one bit. “we need to put some cctvs around your house”, he tells you. you argue that you don’t really need it, but he insists, and to be honest, in the long run, it could be useful so you cave in and he informs you that he’ll make the arrangements.

that night, you’re lying in bed, busy watching a show on your laptop. it was late, but you couldn’t sleep so here you were, catching up on a tv show. but that’s when you hear a noise from outside. you shrug it off and continue watching when your phone pings.

i can see you

what the fuck. you get up and try to look out the window, not seeing anything, but that’s when you hear a noise and you see the shadow of someone on the wall. it moves swiftly and you take a step back, scared. your phone pings again.

looking for me?

you swear you feel a shiver run down your spine. you hear a rattle on your window outside and you gasp, anxious as you tiptoe your way there and you swear you hear a laugh, making you jump.

did i scare you?

another text reads and you gulp, backing up. fuck.

you scramble to unlock your phone and you dial wonwoo, not knowing who else to call. he doesn’t pick up on the first go and you hear the heavy boots of someone outside before you hear your glass window break, a stone getting thrown inside. you dial wonwoo again and he picks up.

“wonwoo, fuck, there’s someone here, i think they’re trying to break in”, you tell in a panic and the phone gets disconnected as you yelp in pain as a small stone from outside that hits your hand, breaking the window furthur as glass shatters everywhere. you hand stings and you clutch your hand as you try to ground yourself. you start panicking, and getting anxious, tears brimming in your eyes. your phone slips from your hand, landing with a thud on the ground. you try to reach out for it but end up getting cut from the glass you couldn’t see in the dark. you suck in a breath as you feel the sharp cut burn and you move back as you sink to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, hiding under the dining table. what if wonwoo didn’t come you thought as a tear escaped you. you had to get yourself together. but then another stone gets thrown shattering your already broken window. shit, what if someone came in right now. this wasn’t good. your thoughts only add fuel to your panic and you just try to huddle under the table, your hands shaking.

you don’t know how much time passed and you don’t even hear your front door open as wonwoo runs in. “yn?”, he calls out. your house was still dark and you can hear the crunch of glass as he steps on it with his boots, cursing under his breath.

he calls your phone which had fallen down, as it lights up and rings. “yn?”, he calls out again, an edge to his voice, seeing your phone that was discarded on the floor. you raise your head, accidentally hitting it on the top and you wince. you hear wonwoo’s feet shuffle around and he bends down, finally locating you. he offers you his hand and helps you up, which you gladly take. he’s quick to assess your state, guiding you to your bedroom because of all the glass that’s scattered on the floor. he locates the switch and turns on the light and you wince a bit from the sudden intrusion of light. you sit down and wonwoo sits beside you. “are you okay? are you hurt?”, he asks, looking at you carefully before he spots the cut on your hand, bleeding badly. you don’t know how he found your first aid kid, probably his super senses. wonwoo’s sitting next to you as he aids to your cut. he gently holds your hand. “it’s going to burn a bit okay”, he says before he dabs the cut and you wince when the disinfectant comes in contact with your cut, the sting burning and you close your eyes. he wipes it a few more times before letting it dry a bit and covering it with a bandaid. he can tell you’re still pretty shaken up, in a state of shock because of how quiet you are and the way your eyes are still glossed over and teary.

“it’s okay, we caught the person”, he says, trying to help you ease up. “he was running away just as i came and i caught him. he’s with the police right now, but you’ll have to go to the station to answer some questions tomorrow”, he explains.

“he’s gone?”, you ask and he nods and you feel yourself relax a little. you were okay. it was going to be okay.

“i thought you weren’t going to come”, you mumble out. “i would come running for you”, he says, making you look at him. his gaze is soft as he looks at you. “really?”, you ask, softly as you start to get lost in his gaze. “yes”, he says as he holds your gaze.

once everything is settled, he stands in front of you. it was 1am now. “i’ll see you tomorrow then”, he said and he turned around to leave when you grab the end of his shirt sleeve. he turns around, looking down to his hand that you held onto his sleeve before he looks up at you. “can you stay?”, you ask softly, peering up at him. “i’m a little scared”, you add softly, your hand still tugging on the end of his sleeve. “but if you have to go, i understand,” you tell, reluctantly letting go of his sleeve. “i’ll see you tomorrow anyway”, you tell, feeling like you don’t want to burden wonwoo anymore.

“it’s okay, i can stay”, he says.

you tell wonwoo to sleep in the guest bedroom, practically dragging him there because he said he’d sleep on the couch. there was no way he was going to sleep on the couch, especially after the windows got broken there. wonwoo was a bit stubborn, but he finally gives in after you threaten to lock him in if he doesn’t listen to you.

you say a small goodnight before you retreat back into your own room. you fall asleep, only to be awoken as you suddenly feel hot. your head is heavy and you don’t feel good. you needed water. you stand up, feeling a little dizzy before you steady yourself and open your door, heading to the kitchen. you turn on the light and reach out to fetch glass from the counter but your grip falters and it falls to the ground, shattering. you curse under your breath. you’re about to bend down to clean it up but you hear wonwoo call out for you.

“yn?”, he asks as he steps into view, taking in the sight of you and the broken glass. he’s prompt to walk closer. “are you okay?”, he asks. “yeah, it just slipped”, you tell softly. his gaze on your lingers before he’s swift to pick you up and place you on the counter and you don’t even have the chance to protest about it. “let me clean this up okay”, he tells and is quick to remove all the glass and neatly sweep the area. your head is throbbing and you don’t feel too good, your head feeling heavy.

“are you okay?”, wonwoo asks again, observing you keenly and he can tell that something is off about you, that you don’t look okay. “y-yeah”, you say softly, answering him. “you can tell me if something is bothering you yn, i’m here for you”, he adds, his eyes still trained on you and you feel utterly exposed when he looks at you like that, like he can tell exactly what you were thinking and feeling. you gulp.

“i-i don’t feel too good”, you finally admit.

he raises his hand to gently press the back of his hand to your forehead and you watch how his eyebrows furrow.

"yn you’re burning up”, wonwoo says, checking your temperature again. you hop down from the counter, not listening to wonwoo as his arm comes up to wrap around your waist to steady you as you stumble slightly.

“yn, you need to get back to bed”, he instructs, a worried edge to his voice. before you know it, he’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you bridal style back to the bedroom and you don’t have it in your to say anything as he gently lays you down, adjusting your pillow for you. he’s quick to fetch you a glass of water. he asks you if you have any fever or headache medication and you shake your head lightly indicating that you didn’t have any. he tells you he’ll be back, that he’s just going to the pharmacy around the corner and you lay in bed, under the covers. the throbbing in your head only gets worse and you start to tear up. you fall asleep for a few minutes but awaken when you hear wonwoo’s softly call out to you. you turn around, sniffling and wonwoo can tell you were crying, his expression softening as he sits down next to you.

he helps you take the medication for your fever, telling you that it is going to be okay, that he was right here. your hand brushes against his as you lay as you slowly fall asleep. you feel when his hand move and you reach out, grabbing onto his fingers. “stay, please”, you mumble, half asleep, holding onto his hand as you finally fall asleep.

you wake up in the morning and feel a bit better, sitting up. you’re about to get up when wonwoo enters, spotting you awake. “how are you feeling?”, he asks. “a bit better”, you tell, still feeling a little tired.

“i’m sorry for keeping you up”, you add softly, looking at him. “you can take the day off today, i’m just gonna be at home”, you add.

“it’s not an issue”, he fills in. “i got you some rice porridge, you should eat some and take the medication again”, wonwoo informs. he offers to bring it to you but you decline, saying you wanted to get out of bed anyway. he’s a little hesitant but walks with you to the dining table where he brings the bowl of porridge to you.

you nibble on a few bites of the food, wonwoo keenly watching you and you feel like you’re being stripped bare again by the way he looks at you. “sorry if i kept you awake”, you tell, feeling a little bad.

“don’t apologise yn, i’m more than happy to be around and help”, he says.

after you eat a bit and take your medication, you sleep for a bit more, while wonwoo arranges for your windows to get fixed. you wake up after a few hours and you walk out. wonwoo is there, talking to one of the workers before he spots you in the corner of his eye. he’s dressed in rather casual clothes compared to his daily suits. today was just trousers with a shirt and blazer jacket. he still managed to look good. you were sure he would look good in everything. but the one thing you noticed was his hair, it was down, his bangs falling over his head. and somehow it softened his look, he looked so pretty. wonwoo makes his way towards you, greeting you.

“sorry if all the noise woke you up”, he says as he takes in your appearance.

“it’s okay, i was up anyway", you say.

“they’re almost done”, he adds and you retreat back to your room, crashing in bed as you cuddle your pillow and you’re falling asleep again.

later that week, wonwoo was extra tight on security, he installed cctv cameras outside and the guy who was stalking you was put on a restraining order and fined. jeonghan had also messaged you about all the details about the charity business ball you had to attend in your fathers place. he said going to the ball would sort of put in a good word about your father while jeonghan was working on the trials, even though everything still looked uncertain as ever and the hate for your father just got worse.

the only thing you hated more than parties were parties that were held in the middle of nowhere. your dad always hosted this party at this venue in the middle of nowhere really, far from the city, saying the change of scenery added to the value and taste of the ball. you’d never gone to this charity business ball he’d hosted even though he’d invite you. you hated parties and all the people that came with it. it was tiresome and you’d much rather be at the comfort of your own home.

the charity ball was the news of the week, everyone was covering this and you’d bet some media people were going to be there being their nosy selves as usual. you end up meeting with your usual stylist - hwasa and she’s more than happy to curate a bunch of outfits for you to try on and see which one works for the event. wonwoo accompanies you, standing in the corner of the room while you try on the twelfth dress, already exhausted by the whole process.

but out of all the dresses you tried, you’d liked this one the best. it was a white satin dress with full sleeves and you loved it. it fits you the best too. you step out, looking for hwasa but she’s not there, probably gone to get a few more dresses. you see wonwoo, his eyes catching yours and you see the way they change, widening a little before going back to his stoic expression.

“how do i look?”, you ask wonwoo, looking at him expectantly. he clears his throat before speaking. “you look pretty”, he says and you give him a look. “just pretty? you have to give me more wonwoo. how do we like it from the other dresses?”, you ask, prodding him.

“it’s the best fit compared to the others and compliments you well”, he adds. “right! i thought so too!”, you tell, smiling. just then hwasa appears, smiling as she sees you. “this is the one”, she says as she looks at you and you do a little twirl for her. “yup, let's go with this one”, you tell.

you decide to get an outfit for wonwoo too, you wanted him to look good so you send him with hwasa to get him an outfit, even though he said that he was alright, you insisted.

after the day is over, you head home, tired. the charity ball was on the weekend and it was already wednesday. you were not looking forward to this at all but you were only doing it for your father’s sake. and after all, the company was going to come into your hands later so you might as well show them who you are and what you were capable of, right?

you were supposed to ideally leave on friday night to the venue and stay at a hotel nearby, but you were nervous and somehow at last minute, the hotel you booked cancelled on you, so you just decided to go on the same evening, except it would be a three hour drive. you’re a frantic mess that morning. from going to hwasa’s studio to get your makeup and hair done, and you go back home, leaving from there after changing. the only hitch was they didn’t have the shoes you chose in your size even though it was ordered but it didn’t come on time, so now you were stuck with shoes that were a tad bit tight, but you had to put up with it in the name of fashion.

you’re all ready and you hear a knock on your door. “the car is ready, i’ll be waiting outside”, you hear wonwoo tell.

"i'll be there in a minute", you yell out as you quickly check your appearance in the mirror before you head out. it was going to be okay hopefully, but you couldn’t help the feeling of dread already pooling in your stomach. you give yourself a smile in the mirror before walking out, your shoes already starting to feel uncomfortable. you have your small handbag with your stuff and grab your house key, locking up before turning around and your jaw almost drops on the floor because holy shit.

wonwoo. he looked gorgeous. he was wearing a black turtleneck paired with a black blazer. his hair was styled but over his forehead and he was wearing glasses. god. you stand there for a whole 30 seconds just staring at wonwoo because wow, he looks so hot right now. you’re not even looking when you take the next step, completely misplacing where you put your foot, tripping down the step but you feel a pair of hands grab your waist, steadying you as wonwoo is quick to catch you. your hands are draped on wonwoo as you look up at him and suddenly he’s so close and he smells so good. you can smell his cologne and it just draws you in more. you’re staring at wonwoo, surprised and your eyes flicker down to his lips for a split second before glancing back up.

“woah are you okay”, he asks, worried as he helps you get back on your feet, his hands still lingering around your waist.

“y-yeah”, you mumble out, clearing your throat, and you’re acutely aware of his hands on your body again, making your cheeks heat up. your hand is still clutching wonwoo’s hand before you pull your hand away, gulping as you look down.

you sit behind because your dress needs space so it won’t crease and you glance at wonwoo occasionally as he drives, his side profile is so pretty. he looked pretty hot with glasses and you were suddenly wondering why he didn’t wear them more often. you shift your legs and feel a dull pinch in your feet as you look at your heels. you’d have ideally removed them in the car but it had the most confusing way to tie them up and they’d been tied nicely already. you didn’t want to ruin that so you let it be, sighing. but little did you know that wonwoo would also occasionally look back at you through the rearview mirror. he thought you looked gorgeous tonight.

the car ride is silent except for some soft music playing and your mind starts wandering to the event, trying to prepare yourself for what was to come.

you can tell you’re close when you see all the lights and the venue up front along with the bunch of cars. you take a deep breath, trying to ease your nervousness. your nerves start to hit you more as the car stands in line to walk to the red carpet. you can hear the people, the fans and see the countless media and news reporters who’ve come to cover the event.

soon it’s your turn to walk the red carpet and get to the ball. you’re so nervous that your hands are almost shaking and you hate it. you hate the flashes and the crowd already. the car comes to a halt and wonwoo gets down, rushing to your side and opening the door for you. now that the door was open, all the noise was amplified. you take a breath before you see wonwoo offer his hand to you and you look up at him, the look of panic evident on your face as you get up, and wonwoo can feel the way your hand shakes in his, giving you a small but somewhat comforting squeeze as you put on a fake smile as you step out. you walk ahead, posing for a few pictures before you walk ahead, wonwoo walking behind you.

you get in and you’re greeted by a bunch of people, some you know, some you don’t. most of them were your father’s business partners, people he worked with or were friends and relatives. the rest were just invited for courtesy.

you’re offered a glass of champagne as you enter and you take it, and walk ahead. but as you walk you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, you can feel the weight of their gazes and they all talk in hushed voices as you walk past. you see your father’s friends and go up to them, greeting him.

“hello”, you say nicely and they greet you but are rather hostile. they make small remarks about your father and his situation, joking about not wanting to be seen with you as to protect their reputation. they’re laughing as you’re just standing there, trying not to lose it as you excuse yourself and walk away. your father really had shitty friends, you had to say that. you turn around and spot wonwoo to the side of the room at the back, along with all the other bodyguards as his eyes find yours. you give him a small smile and he nods, smiling ever so softly.

you walk around and talk around to a few people, some feigning sympathy and pity for your dad while others downright insult him. you countered these claims to every person, saying he didn’t do it but they all just laughed or shook their heads. finally, it was time for the ball and event to begin and you took a seat. as you were the host have to technically open the thing so here you were, walking up to the stage, your feet killing you already and your nerves ready to snap at any second. as you take the stage and see the sea of people in front of you, you feel the anxiety pool in your stomach and you gulp. you can feel everyone’s eyes on you, boring into you and suddenly you feel like you’d committed a thousand crimes and everyone was judging you.

“good evening ladies and gentlemen”, you say, giving the audience a small smile.

“i am here tonight on behalf of my father, but i welcome you all and would like to thank you all for coming. the proceeds raised at this ball will be going to children and people in need. thank you for coming once again and have a great night”, you tell, people clapping and you walk off.

another host takes over from here and you walk down the stage, holding your dress up as you look down and see someone you really did not want to be seeing right now - your dad’s business partner's son, who was a #1 asshole.

he’d always been a snob and you almost roll your eyes at the sight of him. you see people writing cheques and putting them in the donation box and in the other room people were dancing to the live band who were playing music.

“hello yn, long time no see”, he says, flashing you his smile, which you didn’t reciprocate. “hi”, you say.

“nice party”, he adds. “thanks”, you say.

“i would like to offer you the first dance”, he asks, giving you a mischievous smile. “oh no that’s alright”, you say but he doesn’t listen.

“come on, don’t be a spoilsport”, he says, taking your hand and taking you along with him to the other side of the room. and soon, his hand is on your waist and he’s smirking at you as you both slowly move. you can see people looking at you but you try to ignore it.

“how’s your dad? i bet things are hard right now”, he says.

“yeah, but i’m sure the truth will be revealed at the end”, you say.

he laughs, making a few snide remarks about your father, which you try to ignore. but suddenly you feel the thread you’re trying to hold onto snap and suddenly the music is too loud, you don’t like the way he’s holding your hand too tight or the way his hand on your waist is going lower and you try to pull away but he doesn’t let you.

“oh i’m sure the truth will be revealed soon”, he says and he leans in, whispering in your ear. “that your father is a crook”, he tells, smirking and he looks at you and you pull your hand away. you walk away, watching as people’s gaze turn towards you but you ignore it, the tears pooling in your eyes as you make your way to the restroom. you enter and lock yourself in one of the stalls, letting a few tears roll down. you hear the door open and a few girls.

“did you see her?”, one of them says.

“i can’t believe she had the audacity to come really”, another girl says.

“she’s so shameless. if my father was jailed i would like never to show my face to anyone.”, a girl adds and the others laugh.

“probably got spoiled from her father’s rotten money”, another girl tells, and they all snicker as they leave.

hearing this only makes you more upset and more tears well in your eyes as you cry silently. you didn’t want to be here anymore, you wanted to be alone, you wanted to leave. you wanted to leave now. panic rises in your chest again along with anger. your eyes well with tears as you walk down the basement where the cars were parked. thank god you had your spare car key with you and you locate your car, getting in and driving off. you grip the steering wheel hard, making your knuckles turn white as you drive. you don’t even know here you’re going, you just know you had to get out of here. you don’t know how long you’ve been driving for, when you realise you don’t even know where you are. you had gotten a couple of texts from wonwoo but you ignore it and soon wonwoo was calling you but you ignored it too. you didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now. you wanted to be alone.

your car suddenly sputters and breaks down in the middle of the road in almost the middle of nowhere. the road was empty and you couldn’t see anyone or any other cars, people or buildings, fuck. you bury your head in your hands, crying out in frustration as you think about what to do. well you guess now was a good time to call wonwoo.

wonwoo picks up your phone almost immediately. he’d seen you dancing but after that, during the entire party he didn’t see you. now that it was almost over and he still couldn’t locate you, he was obviously worried. he’d texted you and called you countless times but you weren’t responding, leading him to think something might have happened. he’s a frantic mess as he desperately tries to look for you, calling you, but you don’t respond.

“yn? yn are you okay”, wonwoo’s voice is urgent on the other line of the phone.

“wonwoo”, you tell softly, nearly on the verge of tears again.

“where are you? are you okay?”, he asks and that’s all it takes for you to burst into tears again, feeling like the whole weight of the world was on your shoulders.

“yn, please tell me where you are”, he pleads, concern laced in his voice.

“i don’t know”, you tell, your voice cracking, more tears rolling down your already tear stained cheek.

“i got overwhelmed and i left, i took the car and i drove and i-i don’t know where i am”, you tell through broken sobs. “and now the car broke down, god knows where”, you add, sniffling.

“send me your live location, i’ll track you”, he says. “stay in the car and lock the doors, i’m coming”, he assures. “can you stay on the line with me”, you ask. “of course”, he fills in.

wonwoo discovers you’ve driven a whole 45 minutes away and he assures you that he’s coming. but only ten minutes in your phone dies. “fucking phone”, you mumble as you look at the dark road. ten minutes pass and now you start getting scared. wonwoo was going to come right? blame your stupid anxiety but you thought of the worst scenarios that could happen, only psyching yourself more. the car feels more suffocating by the minute and your shoes feel like they're getting tighter. panic sets in stronger and you can’t take it anymore, can’t take the tightness in your shoes and you hastily undo the laces and pull off your shoes, wincing slightly when you feel it scrape against the back of your ankle. you close your eyes and try to take a few deep breaths.

after what feels like an eternity, you see a car pull up near you. you can’t make out anyone, the light almost blinding, but you see someone step out, making their way to your car. you open the door and step out, hearing the voice calling your name - wonwoo. relief immediately floods through your body as you run towards him, crashing into his arms as you start sobbing in his chest, your arms wrapped tightly around his body. he’s a little taken aback but his hands engulf you, pulling you in for a warm embrace.

“i thought you weren’t going to make it”, you mumble out, your arms wrapped around wonwoo as you start to cry. “of course i’d come yn, i gave you my word”, he says, his hand coming up to cradle your head.

“my phone died and i-i didn’t know what i was going to do”, you mumble out, looking up at wonwoo. he studies your face, his gaze softening as he takes in your state and your tear-stained cheeks. you’ve cried a lot today. you finally drop your hands from around wonwoo, letting him go. wonwoo looks down and sees you’re barefoot. “where are your shoes?”, he asks. “they’re in the car, it was getting uncomfortable”, you say. wonwoo is quick to grab your phone, keys and bag from your car and to your surprise, there’s a pair of sneakers. he puts them in front of you, bending down to help you put them on. “where did you get those?”, you ask, surprised. “i like to be prepared”, he informs, helping you wear the shoes before standing back up and your hand automatically grab his hand, intertwining your fingers in his, hoping to find some grounding through his touch.

wonwoo asks the cab to take you both to the nearest hotel, which was roughly ten minutes away from where you were according to the cab driver. you’re still holding wonwoo’s hand and he lets you as you try to calm down. you see a building up ahead and the cab driver tells you that this is the location. you both enter, walking up to the reception and the lady there looks up as you both up.

“we’d like two rooms please”, wonwoo asks.

“unfortunately we only have one room left”, the lady says.

“we’ll take it”, you chirp in and wonwoo looks at you.

“it’s a couple suite so i can only book couples in it”, she says, chewing on gum, looking bored to even be there. “are you a couple or”, she asks.

“no” “yes”, you say and you both look at each other.

“we are, ignore him, he’s a little shy”, you tell and she just looks between you both again.

“alright, how would you like to pay, cash or card?” the lady asks. you dig through your purse and find your card, handing it over and you have your room key. wonwoo notices the way you’re walking slowly this time, watching your face contour in the slightest of winces with each step. “are you hurt?”, he asks, walking forward as he puts his hands on your shoulder, his eyes raking your body for any sign of discomfort or hurt. “no-my shoes-ouch-were the wrong fit”, you fill in. “i think i got a shoebite from them”, you say as you look up the flight of stairs you’d have to climb mentally bracing yourself when you feel wonwoo’s hands wrap around you and lifting you up bridal style. you let out a small surprised yelp, your arms wrapping around wonwoo’s neck for support.

“woah w-what are you doing?”, you stutter out, looking at wonwoo, whose face is barely inches from yours. “your feet are already hurt, i don’t want you climbing up the stairs in that state”, he announces, carrying you as he walks up the stairs. you feel that familiar heat creep up your cheeks and that tiny feeling of butterflies as you look at wonwoo. he looked really pretty up close, his hair falling over his forehead as his glasses sat perfectly on the bridge of his nose. you reach your room and unlock the door, wonwoo still carrying you and he sets you down. you tell him a quiet thank you as your hands are quick to slide off the sneakers, feeling instant relief. but just has you had predicted, you got shoebites. both the sides of your pinky toes and heels were bruised and raw.

wonwoo fetches something from his wallet - bandaids. you’re surprised. “so you just carry around bandaids in your wallet??”, you ask, amused. “like i said, i have to be prepared”, he says. you try to take the bandaid from his hand, telling him that you’d put it on but he doesn’t let you as he bends down on one knee so now he’s matching your height. he gently places your foot on his knee has he puts the bandaid your heel. he repeats the same for your other heel before you put your leg down and wonwoo looks at you.

“i’m sorry”, you tell softly, gazing into his alluring eyes. “are you mad at me? it’s valid if you’re mad at me because i just ran off and completely ignored your calls and-”. you stop when you feel his hand gently squeeze yours, a small act of assurance. “you’re safe now and that’s all that matters”, he says, his voice deeply soothing. you smile, leaning in to peck his cheek. “thank you wonwoo”, you tell and he gives you a soft smile as he gets up. little did you know that wonwoo’s heart was racing from your little action as he tried to maintain his composure.

wonwoo wanders off to another room but comes back outside. “there’s only one bed”, he says, like it’s a fact. “so?”, you ask, getting up.

“i guess i’ll sleep on the couch over there”, he says, pointing towards the couch that looked like anyone would wake up with back pain if they slept on it.

“wonwoo it’s fine, we’re just gonna sleep”, you tell. “you’re acting like sleeping in the same bed is a crime”, you say. “i would prefer not to interfere-” “sleep on the bed or i’ll take the couch”, you threaten.

but now there was a bigger problem than the bed, you didn’t have any change of clothes. thankfully the hotel sold some stuff as merchandise and t-shirts and pants were in the collection too.

you go to the bathroom and change, finally stripping out of your dress and you hang it up to air, changing into the clothes you got. your feet still hurt a bit when you walked because they’d been cramped up in those tiny shoes for too long. you walk out, your eyes widening as you catch wonwoo changing his shirt and you immediately turn around, your cheeks flushing. “sorry”, you mumble before turning around after a few seconds. but you did not miss the peek you got at his abs, oh my gosh.

you mentally slap yourself and sit on the corner of the bed, a yawn taking over you as you glance at the time - 2am. you were tired, it had been a long and exhausting day. you settle in bed, wonwoo sitting on the single couch opposite you, his hair slightly ruffled now from him running his hands through it, and yet it somehow still looked fluffy. wonwoo told you he’d sleep in a bit and you close your eyes, dozing off immediately, sleep overtaking your tired body. but you wake up an hour later because of a loud crack and boom and the heavy downpour of rain. you stir awake and another lighting strikes, flashing into the room before a low rumble follows. you open your eyes and see wonwoo, who’s busy reading a book under the dim lights. you sit up slightly, another loud thunder hitting making you jump as you hit your head on the headboard, startling wonwoo as well.

“yn? are you okay?”, he asks, putting the book down and coming up to you. another loud thunder rumbles, shaking the ground and you cover your eyes, closing your eyes. you hated thunderstorms. “what’s wrong?”, wonwoo asks, sitting down beside you on the other side of the bed. “n-nothing i just don’t like loud noises and thunder”, you meekly say, still sleepy from the sudden intrusion. “it’s dumb i-”, you stop when another earth rumbling thunder hits, making you jump again. “can i hold your hand? it helps me calm down”, you ask softly, a little embarrassed, but wonwoo offers you his hand. it feels warm, soft and safe as you hold it and wonwoo makes himself a bit more comfortable as he sits next to you.

“what were you reading? '', you ask, letting wonwoo’s hand go after two minutes and now that you are a bit more awake, you take in wonwoo’s look. even in the dark, you could make out his hair was now messily dishevelled which only added to the charm and the glasses god, he looked so hot. you weren’t even listening to what he was saying as your hand fiddles with your ring on your finger. wonwoo looks at you and tilts his head to the side ever so slightly.

“what are you thinking about?”, he asks, his voice deep.

“n-nothing”, you fill in, feeling embarrassed about your thoughts. “how do you know i’m thinking about something”, you ask, trying to get the upper hand on wonwoo, only for it to backfire on you.

“you’re fiddling with your ring, and you only do that when you’re thinking about something or something is bothering you”, he says. well damn, he was a keen observer.

“oh”, is all you say as you look at your ring, biting your lip before you look back up at him.

“nothing, it’s really stupid”, you tell but wonwoo looks like he wasn’t going to budge until you gave him an answer.

“i’m sure it’s not stupid”, he adds, trying to reassure you, waiting expectantly. fuck it you think.

“i was just thinking about um”, you start getting nervous, your cheeks heating up and you avoid his gaze, stuttering out the next words. “i was thinking about how-um-how good you look with glasses. it really brings out your features you know and it makes you look really hot. you should wear them more often”, you confess, whispering the last bit, the familiar heat creeping up your cheeks. he doesn’t say anything, but you swear you can see the faint smirk as his lips curve up. you look away, his gaze on you suddenly too intense for you to bear.

“okay your turn, what are you thinking about”, you ask in a hurry, hoping it would turn the attention away from you.

“do you really want to know?”, he asks slowly and you nod your head, looking at him. “you don’t talk much do you, so i’m guessing there must be a lot on your mind”, you prompt. he’s silent for a few seconds before he speaks.

“i’m thinking about what a wonderful person you are”, he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “i’m thinking about how you are only so caring and attentive towards others but yourself. i’m thinking about how the whole world seems to have a wrong impression of you, and that you don’t deserve any of the shitty things happening to you right now. i’m thinking about when it will all end and when you’ll be able to be happy”, he says, his words completely catching you off guard. each of his thoughts strike a chord in you and you almost tear up. out of everyone, it seemed like only wonwoo was on your side.

“wonwoo”, you say softly, at a loss for words. you don’t even know when you leaned towards wonwoo but your eyes flicker down to his lips for a split second before you look back up. “i’m thinking about how gorgeous you looked tonight and that if i had the chance i would have asked you for a dance earlier tonight if not given the current circumstances”, he adds, his gaze never leaving yours as he stares into you deeply, fondly as he opens up to you.

“and as of this moment, i’m thinking about how it would be to kiss you”, he fills in and you blink up at him, getting nervous at his confession. you answer him by leaning in and softly pecking his lips, lingering for a few seconds before you pull away but still close enough that has your heart beating rapidly.

wonwoo leans in, kissing you, properly this time. his hand gently cups your cheek as he moves his lips against yours and you swear you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach at that moment. you kiss him back and you move your head, accidentally knocking his glasses, making you both pull away. “oops sorry”, you say, a little breathless as your hands reach out to take off his glasses and he is quick to put them on the side table before turning his attention back to you. you look up at him. “what are you thinking about now?”, you ask, your lips centimetres away from his, and you can feel your heart racing again, the echoes of the beats loud in your chest.

“i’m thinking about how i want to kiss you again”, he says, closing the gap between you both as he captures your lips in his this time you sigh into the kiss as wonwoo cups your cheek, deepening the kiss as his arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer to him. wonwoo quite literally knocks the breath out of you as he pulls away slowly, watching your chest rise and fall. you kiss him again, getting giddy at the feeling of his lips on yours as he kisses you breathlessly again, softly pushing you down on the bed as your head rests on the pillow, wonwoo’s body hovers over yours, careful not to put his weight on you as he kisses you sweetly, the drumming of the rain outside as your soundtrack.

you wake up, wonwoo’s arms around your waist as you blink your eyes open. the sun was filtering through the white curtains, rays of sunshine adorning the floor and wall. wonwoo is still fast asleep beside you and you take this chance to look at him, really look at him. his hair is messy but cutely dishevelled, his eyes closed as soft breaths leave him as he sleeps, peaceful. he’s so pretty you think to yourself as you smile softly to yourself. you remember the events of last night, the kiss, and suddenly feel yourself getting very very shy as you bite your lips to contain the silly smile that aims to erupt across your face. you continue to admire wonwoo, his big warm hands still engulfing you as you shift slightly to check the time. when you turn back, wonwoo softly stirs awake, his pretty eyes fluttering open as he awakens.

“hi”, you say softly.

“hi”, he says, his morning voice deeply attractive.

you both look at each other, not saying anything but just taking in each other’s presence. “did you sleep okay?”, he asks, searching your face and you shake your head, mumbling something about how you’re still tired.

his hand comes up to hold yours as he gently lifts it to his lips, giving it a soft kiss, his eyes never leaving yours, making you laugh softly. god, he was so dreamy.

“what do you want to do today?”, he asks.

“sleep, i just wanna sleep”, you groan, burying your face into the pillow. wonwoo’s hand wraps around your waist as he pulls you closer towards him. “then sleep”, he says, placing a soft kiss to your cheek, making you smile. you close your eyes and soon drift off to sleep, wonwoo’s embrace making you feel safe and comfortable. and soon, wonwoo was also sleeping with you, both of you sleeping soundly in each other’s embrace.

it’s only around lunchtime that you both stir awake again and mostly because someone was knocking on your door, leading you to both wake up to the sudden noise.

“we have to checkout by 5pm or pay to stay another night”, he tells you. “we should leave, but the car!”, you tell, sitting up in bed.

“i’ll get it fixed, i’ve arranged for it, " he says. “i’ll go get our clothes from the hotel’s drycleaning," he says. you’d have to wear the same dress again but you didn’t mind.

wonwoo is quick to have a shower and he's changed into his suit from yesterday, that’s all clean and freshly pressed for the day minus the blazer as he tells you he’ll bring the car. you ask him if you can come along but he says it’s best to stay back. you feel a bit bummed about it but stay back nonetheless. all your luggage was in the car, in a rush you and wonwoo had forgotten it, but could change when he was back. wonwoo is finally back and you manage to get your luggage, and you change into something comfortable, ready to leave for home.

you check out and head towards the car as wonwoo loads in your luggage before spotting you, opening the car door for you. you sit upfront this time and the journey home begins. you end up talking a bit but get hungry since you really haven’t eaten anything yet. wonwoo is quick to stop by a nearby restaurant once you guys enter the city and you gladly inhale some food.

it’s been two weeks since you and wonwoo kissed and every time you thought about it, it made you all shy. wonwoo was his usual self, back in business mode but his touches now lingered and he’d talk to you sweetly, opening up to you more, and maybe somehow a little more protective of you.

you were now in jeonghan’s office, upset and mostly scared of the way your father’s trial was going. it seemed like things were going in favour of the prosecution and not your father.

“what’s going wrong”, you ask jeonghan, who only sighs at your question. “i’m really trying my best here yn”, jeonghan says, looking at you. “i really don’t know where the prosecution is getting all this new evidence from”, he says. “i’m doing my best yn but at this rate maybe it’s better for your father to serve the jail time”, he says, making you immediately protest at the thought.

“what? why should he go to jail for something he didn’t even do?”, you almost yell out.

“given the circumstances, serving ten years looks the best for him. i can even try to reduce it to seven along with community service and probation”, he adds and you click your tongue, upset at the whole idea and proposition.

he takes a few moments to think before speaking to you again. "his company has come to a standstill, someone needs to step up in the meantime and run things around there”, he starts off, being careful with his words.

“but you know what would help? if i was maybe given the power of attorney. it would help big time in trying to smooth over the company and business until things with your father are settled”, he says, giving you an assuring smile.

“you should ask my father about that”, you say. “oh i know but maybe you could also ask him, it would be helpful”, he asks.

“i’ll see”, you say. “just make sure my father gets out of this soon”, you ask jeonghan. he gives you a smile, which for some reason runs a shiver down your spine but you shake it off, getting up.

wonwoo drops you home that night after your meeting with jeonghan and walks you back inside. he can tell you’re stressed and anxious about your father’s situation as both of you linger at the doorstep. he reaches out for your hand, as he looks at you, his thumb caressing your hand in an attempt to comfort and soothe you. after a few seconds he takes a few steps forward, bringing his arms around you as he engulfs you in a much needed hug. you sigh in his arms as you close your eyes, letting yourself sink his hold.

“i’m going to be here with you every step of the way”, he reassures.

“thank you wonwoo”, you respond as you pull away and look at him.

“it’s going to be okay”, he says as he looks at you.

“i hope so”, you say, almost defeated after what jeonghan told you about earlier.

he looks at you with the most loving eyes before he leans in and kisses you, his hand coming up to cup your cheek as he softly moves his lips against yours as he kisses you sweetly.

“goodnight”, he says softly, sweetly. “goodnight”, you whisper back, stealing another kiss from wonwoo before you retreat back inside.

the next week when wonwoo comes to your house in the morning there’s something different about him, in his demeanour and the way he acts. he strictly keeps to himself, not indulging in small talk with you at all, and brushing your hand off when you try to hold his hand. you felt hurt but decided to brush it off. maybe he had a reason for it, but the thought that he’d be so blunt about it hurt. you wanted to ask him but you didn’t. you decide to go see your father today at the detention centre he was being kept at. you had gotten used to wonwoo’s silence but today it felt odd, suffocating almost, but you don’t say anything, suddenly feeling like a burden to wonwoo.

you’re waiting for your father as you sit on the other end of the room, a plastic divider dividing you and him. you stand up as soon as he walks in and he gives you a small smile. he looks tired.

“are you okay?”, you ask, sitting down. “i can manage," he says.

“so things aren’t going in your favour”, you say, looking at your father. “i am aware”, he says.

“what about the company? and your business? what’s going to happen to that?”, you ask.

“yn, you know i always intended for you to take over the company at some point”, he says. “but maybe you’ll have to take over earlier than i thought”, he says.

“what do you mean?”, you prompt.

“i mean that you will have to take over”, he says. “it is going to be hard, there are going to be obstacles and people are going to try and bring you down but i have faith and trust in you”, he says.

“what if i’m not ready”, you say.

“i’ll always be here and you know what they say, fake it till you make it”, your father tells, making you chuckle as you hold back your tears.

“jeonghan was asking about you giving him the power of attorney”, you say as you see your father's gaze change.

“no, if i were to give anyone the power of attorney right now, it should be you”, he says.

“but don’t you trust jeonghan? i’m sure he’ll be able to help run things until i’m ready to take over”, you say.

“i wouldn’t trust anyone right now”, your father says. “i would rather have my own child act on my behalf than jeonghan”, he says. “a power of attorney is a powerful thing and i would trust you with it more than jeonghan”, he says and you nod as you take in his words.

that evening wonwoo leaves again, and he was still cold towards you. you decided to bring it up to him tomorrow because it was starting to make you feel weird, uneasy and bad. the next day, your doorbell rings a few times. you wonder why wonwoo hasn’t bothered just entering your house like he always has. was this a new thing now? you really had to talk this out with him.

“wonwoo what are-”, you start but stop because the person in front of you wasn’t wonwoo. “who are you?”, you ask. “i’m your new bodyguard from today”, he says. you look him up and down because he didn’t look very bodyguard material.

“what happened to wonwoo?”, you ask, taken aback by this. he just shrugs. “i don't know, jeonghan sent me so you should talk to him”, he says before stepping in, uninvited if you had to say.

you go to your room to fetch your phone and come back to see the guy just sitting on your couch, scrolling through his phone, wow. talk about being professional.

you glare at him as you dial jeonghan. he picks up after a few rings.

“what happened to wonwoo?”, you ask, not wasting a second.

“no hi?”, he says, sensing the urgency in your voice.

“where’s wonwoo”, you ask again.

“wonwoo quit”, jeonghan says like it was no big deal.

“what do you mean he quit?”, you ask in shock. “he quit yn, he told me a few days back. he said he didn’t want to work for you anymore”, he adds, making your heart drop.

“but why, there must have been a reason right?”, you ask jeonghan.

“i think it’s for the best yn, and besides, i told you not to get too close to him”, jeonghan says and you didn’t like the tone of his voice.

after that you call wonwoo but he doesn’t pick up but you keep calling. he couldn’t just quit on you like that. there must have been a reason. and you think back to yesterday and how he was acting so cold towards you for the last few days. you tear up at the thought. why? why would he do that? did he really just use you?

you watch as your new bodyguard sits on your couch lazily, not even bothered about trying to do his job right. you were pretty sure that if you went out the door right now, this guy wouldn’t even notice. you roll your eyes at the thought and sigh.

“i’m going to see jeonghan”, you tell. “sure, i guess i should drive you right, just let me finish this level, i’ve almost cracked it”, he says. he was not being serious right now.

after five minutes you get his attention. “excuse me?? can we go or shall i go myself?”, you ask. “i’m coming jeez, you’re so stuck up”, he says.

as soon as you burst into jeonghan’s office, he looks at you with a glint in his eyes.

“what do i owe this pleasure to”, he says.

“you could have at least hired a competent replacement, this new guy sucks actually, he doesn’t even have basic manners”, you tell jeonghan.

“he was the best replacement i could find”, jeonghan tells nonchalantly and you scoff.

“best replacement? you’ve got to be kidding me right now. wonwoo was the best and he was actually qualified. this guy looks like someone you just picked off the street”, you argue.

jeonghan doesn’t say anything as he filters through the stack of papers on his desk, finding what he was looking for before he looks back up at you. “did you ask your father about the power of attorney thing?”, he asks, changing the topic.

“i did and he wasn’t too keen on it. he said he’d rather give me the power of attorney power than you”, you say but jeonghan doesn’t seem fazed at all.

“i expected that, so why don’t we start processing the papers to give you power of attorney. and then you can transfer it to me right? i can hold fort until you’re ready”, he says, more like he’d had it all planned out rather than asking you.

“i’ll process the papers to make you power of attorney for now”, he says. “okay”, you say. “now if you’ll excuse me, i have a lot of work of work to do”, he tells.

“what did wonwoo tell you when he quit”, you quickly ask.

“yn we are not going there”

“just tell me, please”

“he said he didn’t want to work for you anymore”, jeonghan says.

“that’s all he said?”, you ask.

“yes”, and suddenly all your hopes sink.

you get back home and in the following days you just stay at home. you were somehow on the news these days, and for the dumbest reason really, it was like people were trying to nitpick you apart and post things about you. you called wonwoo again and texted him a bunch of times but there was not one single response. you couldn’t believe that wonwoo would do something like that, after all you guys shared. it broke your heart really.

and to say your new bodyguard was incompetent was an understatement. the other day he couldn’t even protect you from being mobbed or spot the paparazzi that you caught in a blink of an eye. you wanted wonwoo, you missed him.

you go to jeonghan’s office and go to the detention centre again to get the power of attorney transferred to you because your dad also had to be present.

your dad carefully reads the document, making sure everything was right, even the fine print that people tend to ignore before deeming it legal and everything was good. he signs it and puts his stamp on it and so do you.

“use this power wisely yn, i’m trusting you”, he says and you nod.

when you reach home, you’re just waiting for the new guy to go.

“give me your phone”, the new guy says, coming up to you and he doesn’t even wait for you to answer before he’s plucking your phone out of your hand.

“what the hell?”, you ask, trying to take your phone back but he doesn’t let you.

“no more phone for you for the time being, jeonghan’s orders, with all these headlines about you going around he says it’s for the best”, he says.

“no give me my phone back”, you demand but he grabs your hand, pushing you towards your room, slamming the door shut and you hear the lock engage. you try to open the door but it doesn’t.

“hey open this door right now”, you tell, beating your hand on the door. “that’s not going to change anything”, he says, chucking as you hear his footsteps around the hallway.

“she’s locked up”, he says, talking to someone on the phone.

“let me out”, you yell again, banging your fist on the door again.

“shut it”, he says, kicking the door, only prompting you to bang your fist on the door harder.

but after no avail you stop, sinking to the ground, tears already welling in your eyes. your life just really kept getting shitty and shittier didn’t it.

you open your eyes as you hear the key rattle on the other side, the doorknob rattling and the door opening. you’re quick to stand up.

“what the fuck is wrong with you”, you yell but the new guy doesn’t seem fazed at all. “he wants to see you”, he tells, grabbing your hand but you pull it out of his grip. “move”, he demands and you reluctantly move towards the hall and your eyes go wide at who you see - jeonghan.

“did you do this?”, you ask, in shock.

“i have to get things done don’t i yn”, he says, giving you that creepy smile again. “and now you’re going to be a good girl and sign these papers”. he says, holding out in front of you.

“what is that”, you ask. “the transfer of power of attorney from you to me”, he says.

“there’s no way in hell i’m doing that after what you just fucking did”, you spit out, getting upset.

“getting feisty now are we? let’s not forget that your father’s fate lies in my hands and if you do not sign this paper right now, i will send your father to rot in jail for the rest of his life”, he says, threatening you.

“what-you can’t-you wouldn’t”, you say.

“oh believe me yn, i would. so choose. your father goes to jail or you sign these papers and save his life”, he demands.

“why are you doing this”, you ask bitterly.

“because your father is an idiot and this is the one time i’ve outsmarted him”, jeonghan tells, smug.

“what are you talking about? if you want money give me a number, i’ll give it to you, just stop all this”, you plead.

“oh i’ll get my money yn, but i need to see your father crumble down, that’s what he deserves”, jeonghan says.

he thrusts the papers towards your face. “sign it”, he demands.

“over your dead body, i’m not signing shit jeonghan”, you spit back.

“i don’t think right now is the time to be rebellious yn”, he says, pursing his lips in a thin line.

“oh i’ve always been rebellious jeonghan and i’m not going to let you get away with this”, you tell.

“i doubt that”, he tells, signalling for the bodyguard as he grabs your arm and drags you to your room, pushing you inside and locking the door again.

“think again yn, you’re only getting out of here when these documents are signed and by then it’ll be too late to do anything”, jeonghan says from the other side of the door.

“fuck you jeonghan, you just wait, i’m gonna get you”, you spit out.

you hear him say something only catching the last words being ‘don’t let her out’ .

what the fuck was happening to your life. fuck. you bang your fist on the door, letting out your frustration, sinking to your knees as you try to hold it in, keep it together but you can't. you bang the door a couple more times as tears roll down your cheeks. and yet, the only person you could think of in this situation was wonwoo. only he could help you now, he would know what to do. but you had no means to contact him after your phone was taken away and you were now locked in the room.

you bury your head in your knees, trying to breathe and think. think yn and that’s when you get an idea - your laptop. it was synced to your phone contacts. you get up, rushing to grab your laptop, frantically opening it and you open the messages app and find wonwoo. all your previous texts to him are still unread. no you needed to find him, texting him wasn’t going to work right now. but the question was how? and that’s when you remember the thing jeonghan had sent you before , wonwoo’s resume, which had his address, bingo.

you open your chat logs with jeonghan, scrolling up till the part when jeonghan had sent you wonwoo’s resume and just as you guessed, his address was on it. you grab a pen and jot down the address on a scrap piece of paper. but how were you going to get there? you looked up and at the window behind your desk. you get up, pushing your table to the side slowly trying not to make any loud noises, huffing and puffing.

after you manage to push the table aside enough, you slide the window open and poke your head out, looking at the distance but the jump wasn’t too bad. you slowly swing your legs over, taking a breath before reaching down with your feet and them jumping. the only protection you had against the bare ground was your socks right now. you close the window behind you and look left and right. you slowly and quietly walk towards the back gate and open it slowly, making a quick escape and you jog down the road. you look at the address that’s now crumpled in your hand and it wasn’t too far. you didn’t have cash or anything on your to take the bus so walking you were.

fifteen minutes in and you're getting tired and you put on the hood of your hoodie, hoping no one would recognise you but continue speed walking to the address in your hand. wonwoo would know what to do. wonwoo could help you. wonwoo. you start picking up your speed as you walk without even realising and soon you're running, your legs are working on their own, desperate for an escape and to find wonwoo. after sprinting and jogging for a bit you finally come up to the address, his apartment and you bend down, resting your hands on your knees as you try to catch your breath.

you’re about to walk in when security stops you. “i’m here to see wonwoo, he lives here right”, you ask between breaths.

“mr. jeon? are you his guest?”, the security asks.

“yes, yes, please which building does he live in”, you ask, pulling your hood down in an aim to not let the man recognise you.

“wouldn’t you know that if you know him?”

“please, it’s urgent”, you ask. “he knows me i swear”, you tell. “it's an emergency just, please tell me”, you plead.

the man finally tells you the information and you sprint to the building and run up the stairs, not bothering to wait for the elevator to come. you open the staircase door, entering the main floor, your chest heaving from the effort of running up the stairs. you were lucky you didn’t fall on your face at the pace you were going at. you locate his door number and you stand in front of it and suddenly you’re scared. what if he didn’t open the door? what if he wasn’t here? you can hear your heart pounding in your chest as you raise your hand to ring his doorbell. a few moments pass and nothing and you ring it again and again. shit was he not home?

you take a step back, your head down, suddenly feeling defeated when you hear the doorknob rattle and the door opens. you look up and wonwoo is in front of you. he was really here. you found him.

“yn?”, he asks, as he adjusts the glasses on his face as if he couldn't believe it was you at his doorstep. you get hit with a wave of emotions at that minute and wonwoo is asking you something but you’re not listening as your vision gets blurry and all you can do in that moment in crash into wonwoo’s arms as you start to sob in his chest, the impact making wonwoo stumble before he held onto you. you weren’t crying because you were upset, you were crying because you felt relief - relief that you finally found wonwoo.

you pull away from him and look up and he finally sees the state you’re in, bare feet and he’s quick to spot the bruises on your knuckles and hands from banging on the door as you wipe your tears. wonwoo looks you up and down as he takes both your hands in, his expression suddenly dark as he looks at you.

“who did this to you”, he asks sternly as another tear escapes you.

“j-jeonghan”, you stutter out through a sob. “they’re working together and t-they locked me in the room”, you tell and you can see the rage burning behind wonwoo’s eyes.

“jeonghan did this?”, he asks, anger seething in his eyes and you nod.

“he’s-he’s been behind all this the whole time, the whole reason my father is in jail a-and he was threatening me”, you tell in a rush, not making a coherent sentence.

wonwoo pulls you in a hug, holding you tight. “where were you, why did you leave?”, you demand through a broken sob as the door behind you closes. “i missed you”, you tell softly, your voice cracking as a few more sobs escape you.

“fuck, i missed you too”, he says as he hugs you tighter. you feel something soft rub around your legs and look down, seeing wonwoo’s cat near your feet. “your cat”, you say as you sniffle.

you’re on the couch now, wonwoo giving you new socks and slippers to wear as freshen up, washing your face and feet. wonwoo’s cat is inquisitive of you, sitting on the floor in front of you as she looks at you. “hi oreo”, you say and she meows, making you smile.

wonwoo busies himself in the kitchen as he makes you some chamomile tea to help you calm down and sets the steaming mug in front of you. wonwoo also sets down an envelope next to the mug, signalling for you to open it. you look at him before your hand reaches out for the envelope and you open it, the contents inside making you gasp.

“what’s this?”, you ask, as you sift through the pile of photos, each one making you upset and even more confused. they were pictures of you and wonwoo at the hotel that night after the event, but the person who took them captured you wonwoo sharing a kiss and you sleeping in his wonwoo’s arms. you feel a surge of rage in your body as you look at this.

“this is what jeonghan gave me and he tried to blackmail me with this”, wonwoo says, breaking the silence. “he threatened me with these, saying if i didn’t quit that he would give these photos to the press. i don’t know what he was planning but i did what he said because i didn’t want you getting hurt”, he says. “the bastard probably had someone tail us and take this”, he adds.

“i know it was sudden but there was nothing i could do, he was strict on not making any sort of contact with you afterwards. he said he was watching me and that otherwise these pictures would get leaked in a second if i contacted you and i didn’t want that. i don’t know what sort of twisted sick game he’s playing but i didn’t want you waking up one day and seeing these pictures in the headlines. you’re already going through hell right now and this was the least i could do to protect your reputation, to protect you”, he says, his hand finding yours as he gives it a small squeeze.

‘i’m going to kill jeonghan i swear to god”, you mutter under your breath.

“we have to help my father, we have to do something, you’ll help me right?”, you ask, pleading almost.

“of course yn. i was dying everyday i couldn't see you or tell you what really happened, i was just praying you wouldn’t hate me for it”, he tells.

after things between you both get cleared up, you promptly end up falling asleep, curled up in his arms on the couch. when you were with wonwoo you felt safe, secure, like the world was going to be okay, that you were going to be okay. wonwoo gently carries you to his bed, tucking you in as he slips inside the sheets beside you, watching you sleep and he vowed to himself - that no matter what, he was going to protect you.

you stir awake in the morning in wonwoo’s soft sheets, turning around and seeing the other side of the bed empty. you walk outside, seeing wonwoo busy in the kitchen as he sets a pot on the table. he spots you.

“good morning”, he says and you give him a small smile. “morning”, you tell as you move closer to wonwoo, seeing the small breakfast spread laid out on the table. you hear a meow, followed by another and another.

“someone is hungry”, you joke as you look at oreo waiting for wonwoo to give her food.

“she’s usually patient, aren’t you oreo”, wonwoo says and oreo meows in agreement and protest. you chuckle, this side of wonwoo was adorable.

you both sit down to eat and you’re grateful for the meal, later insisting that you help wonwoo clean up and wash the dishes, even though he insists you don’t need to but your stubbornness wins and he leans on the side of the counter as he watches you wash the dishes, looking defeated.

just then there’s a knock on the door. wonwoo stands alert and checks who it is.

“it’s jeonghan” wonwoo says softly.

“shit, what do we do?”

“go to my room, close the door and stay there till i tell you to come out”, wonwoo instructs and you’re quick to go to his room, closing the door.

wonwoo opens his front door and jeonghan stands there looking irritated.

“what is it?”, wonwoo asks, giving jeonghan a cold stare.

“where’s yn?”, he asks, running a hand through his hair, frustrated.

“how should i know”, wonwoo says.

“listen wonwoo, lying right now is not going to help”

“i don’t know where yn is”, wonwoo repeated.

“if she contacts you, you tell me right away, got it”, jeonghan says as he points a finger at wonwoo.

“did something happen?”, wonwoo asks, trying to assess the situation.

“oh nothing, yn just seems to have gone off without informing anyone, i was just worried”, he tells, giving wonwoo a fake smile before leaving.

you hear the door close, wonwoo telling you that jeonghan was gone.

“he’s looking for you alright. i think it’s better you don’t go out for the time being. you can stay with me till then and we can come up with a plan together okay”, he says, one hand caressing your cheek. you nod.

later that day, wonwoo says he’ll hire a new lawyer for your father and appeal to the court and also indict jeonghan. but the only problem was that how were you going to prove everything that jeonghan was doing? if you only had that evidence it would also help in proving your father innocent.

“i could hire someone to raid his house maybe”, wonwoo says.

“what, you can do that?”you asked him, shocked but liking the idea.

“i mean he’s not playing fair either is he? let’s mess with him a little”, wonwoo says.

“but how will you find someone to do that?”, you ask curiously.

“i have connections sweetheart”, he tells. “i’m an impressive man you know”, he adds and you smile. “i'm sure you are”.

over the next few days, things move quickly. wonwoo makes the required arrangements and the meeting with the new lawyer is online because jeonghan likely putting someone to stakeout and watch wonwoo’s place in case you showed up. wonwoo is smart to keep the curtains drawn at all times so no one could peek inside either. the first priority was indicting jeonghan which would make him suspend him from working, and your father’s case would have more time and more time right now was good.

the next week jeonghan is indicted, and a legal notice is sent to his office courtesy of the impressive new lawyer that wonwoo hired. with the indictment jeonghan could not go anywhere, he couldn’t flee or travel and he’d be called for a formal court hearing on wednesday. as you got ready on wednesday morning to go to the court hearing because you were the one indicting jeonghan so you had to be there. you were nervous, standing in front of the mirror in wonwoo’s room. wonwoo was accompanying you too of course, he wasn’t going to let you go out there alone when you were going to go fight. you were going to show the world who you really were.

you reach the courthouse where the hearing will take place and it seems like everything is already on the news, the hoard of journalists and news reporters already crowding the place. you walk inside with wonwoo and head to the courtroom. as soon as you enter you see jeonghan, who clenches his jaw as he makes his way towards you, clearly upset and shocked.

“yn what the hell is all this”, jeonghan nearly shouts, his hand reaching out to grab yours but wonwoo grabs his hand instead, stopping him.

“watch it jeonghan”, wonwoo warns as jeonghan pulls his arm out from wonwoo’s grip.

“you’re not going to get away with all this”, you tell.

the hearing starts and you’re sitting with wonwoo’s lawyer and beside you on the other side is jeonghan and his lawyer.

“miss yn has made an indictment to mr. yoon over criminal activity and fraud”, the judge says, looking at you.

“yes your honour”, your lawyer fills in.

“what is the accused stand on this matter?”, the judge asks.

“my client mr.yoon is not guilty your honour”, jeonghan’s lawyer says and you scoff, glaring at him.

“does the plaintiff have evidence to support these claims?”, the judge asks.

“not yet but we are working on it”, your lawyer explains.

“i request the charges against my client to be dropped because they are completely baseless and defamatory”, jeonghan’s lawyer demands.

“given the nature of the accusations and that mr.yoon is also a well known person in his respective industry, i will give the plaintiff one week to gather sufficient evidence otherwise the charges and case will be dropped due to lack of evidence”, the judge grants before dismissing the court.

you’re laying wonwoo’s bed lost in thought. now the only problem was trying to find evidence. sure, you could still testify but without any evidence, your claims would be useless. there had to be a way and you were sure you were missing a vital piece of information. if only there had been cameras you think and it hits you. you get up in a gasp. that was it, the cctv cameras at your home. you get up, rushing to find wonwoo, who’s in the other room doing something on his computer.

“i figured it out wonwoo”, you tell and he looks up at you. “the cctv cameras you installed at my home, they would have captured jeonghan on it and what he did”, you say and you watch wonwoo’s eyes light up as he follows what you’re saying.

“he was at your house that night?”, he asks.

“yes! and the cameras would have picked it up”, you say.

“and it must have picked up on the audio too”, he states.

"audio?", you ask.

"yes, i installed one's that recorded audio too", he fills in. “yn this is amazing”, he adds “and the best part, i have access to the cctv cameras”, wonwoo adds.

“i just hope jeonghan didn’t get to them”, you tell, worried.

“no, he doesn’t know about them, i didn’t tell him”, wonwoo says.

“you are a genius”, you tell, leaning down to pepper his cheek with a kiss.

“i could say the same thing about you”, he tells, his hands finding your waist.

you smile, looking down at him, frowning when you notice the fingerprints on his glasses. your hands move up, carefully sliding them off as you clean them with the corner of your shirt, asking how he could even see as you gently put the glasses back on his face.

“we might have found some information from jeonghan’s computer and files”, wonwoo adds. “i’ll pass it on to my lawyer, he’ll handle it”.

“do you think we can pull this off?”, you ask wonwoo, your hands resting on his shoulders as you look down at him, wonwoo still seated on his chair.

“i think we can”, he tells, assuring you.

that night, wonwoo filters through the cctv footage to that night and just like you’d predicted, the whole incident where he came to your home and basically confessed what he was doing was recorded, the audio was impeccable too. jeonghan could kiss his life goodbye now. wonwoo hands off this evidence to his lawyer and now you can just wait.

it’s finally the day. you were ready but also nervous and anxious. a thousand what if’s went through your mind as you got ready that morning. you had been informed that your father would also be present at the court hearing since the case indirectly involved him. wonwoo drops you off at the court that morning.

“where are you going?”, you ask, grabbing onto his hand.

“the lawyer just called me, i need to quickly pick up something for him, but i’ll be back okay”, he assures. you nod and wait outside. there was still time for the hearing to take place in 30 minutes approximately.

wonwoo isn’t back even after your lawyer arrives. you’re constantly checking your watch and seeing the time, looking out to see if you can spot wonwoo but you can’t see him.

“i can’t see wonwoo? didn’t he come with you?”, the lawyer asks and you furrow your brows in confusion.

“what do you mean? he told me you called him asking him to get something”, you tell and he looks back at you equally confused. “i did no such thing”, he says.

you fish out your phone and try to call him but it goes unanswered. you try again but no answer.

“yn it’s time, let’s go”, your lawyer says and you put your phone back inside, hoping wonwoo was okay.

-at court-

“your honour, if you look here, you will see the cctv footage of mr.yoon and his men who were at my client's house on the night of the 8th. you can see the person, who was supposed to be yn’s bodyguard, lock up my client in the room and call mr.yoon, who arrives shortly. you can see clearly how mr.yoon threatened my clinet yn and even confessed to what he’s been doing, saying that he intentionally manipulated and betrayed yn’s father and set him up because he has an ulterior motive”, your lawyer states.

the video of that night plays and there’s no way that anyone would not believe you anymore. it was clear as crystal what jeonghan was up to now and his true motives were revealed.

“does the defendant have anything to say?” the judge asks.

“yes, i’d like to cross examine the client”, jeonghan lawyer says, stepping up and coming up to the witness stand where you were sitting. after your cross examination is done the judge announces that the final verdict will be delivered next week, on friday. given the high profile individuals that were involved in the case, a prompt but careful decision would be made. friday is a week away from now. the court is adjourned and you get up and leave, jeonghan purposely bumping into you as you go out, giving you a smirk.

you pick up your phone and call wonwoo again and the call is finally answered. “wonwoo where are you?”, you ask.

“hello is this someone that mr.jeon is acquainted with?”, the other person on the line asks, a female.

“yes, can i know who this is?”

“i’m calling from goodwill hospital, mr. jeon has been in an accident”, she says and your heart drops.

your feet start moving on their own as you run outside, pushing through the crowd of reporters and almost tripping as you try to hail a taxi, on your way to the hospital. you rush into the hospital asking for wonwoo at the front desk. you’re guided to his room, where the doctor explains that he was extremely lucky and only suffered from minor injuries. he would need a few days of rest and he could then be discharged. you’re instantly relieved to hear that but you’re still anxious.

you peek into his room, slowly sliding the door open as you walk in, taking in his state and you instantly teared up. you sit beside him, reaching out to hold his hand as you keep your head down, looking at your hand on top of his. a couple of minutes pass by and you feel a soft squeeze of your hand and you look up seeing wonwoo awake.

“wonwoo”, you are relieved he was awake. “are you okay-shit no that’s a stupid question, you’re obviously not okay”, you tell in a rush.

he sits up slowly, wincing in pain but otherwise keeping a straight face.

“what happened?”, you ask softly.

“i got jumped by jeonghan’s men. i only figured when i was already back at the apartment that the call was indeed not the lawyer”, wonwoo explains.

“shit”, you say.

“i shouldn’t have let you go, i should have insisted you stay”, you tell, feeling like this was all your fault now.

“hey, hey look at me”, wonwoo says.

“i just don’t want you to end up getting hurt because of me”, you tell.

“i’m okay yn, i’m a tough guy you know”, he says, trying to lighten the mood.

after he’s rested enough and the doctors deem him okay, he’s discharged and you take him home. you tell wonwoo all about the court hearing today and now the only thing you could do was wait.

-final hearing-

the media has been on fire the last few days, jeonghan’s case gaining the entire country's attention. but even then, people were 50/50 about the chances of who would win even though the evidence was pretty clear. but you could never tell, the law wasn’t always fair sometimes and you just prayed that it would be fair to you. wonwoo was much better now and was healing well and he insisted on accompanying you, even though you told him he should stay at home and rest.

you’re sitting in front, jeonghan on the opposite side and the court house was crowded, the media causing an uproar outside, eager to report every single second and eager to find out the final verdict of the case. the judge looks at you, and then at jeonghan before they announce the verdict.

“given the high profile of the case and the evidence submitted from both ends, we have carefully reviewed the evidence and points of this case. it has come to a unanimous decision that the defendant, mr. yoon jeonghan is found guilty and will serve ten years in jail and have to pay a fine as well for the damages done and emotional distress caused to the plaintiff.

you cover your mouth in shock. you did it. you won! you couldn’t believe it as you cover your mouth in shock, tears filling your eyes. your father looks at you and the look he gave you was nothing short of proud. you won, your father was going to be free and jeonghan was going to go to jail, he was going to get punished and things were going to be okay now.

as people start filtering out, you’re looking for wonwoo, whom you can’t seem to spot anywhere. you had to tell him. through the crowd, you manage to head out of the courtroom where people start congratulating you and your father. but you were only focused on finding wonwoo.

you run out, only to end up getting ambushed by all the news reporters and journalists, all of them eager to know your thoughts as they bombard you with questions.

“how do you feel yn?”

“how does it feel to know your father is free”

“please share a few words”

you were being bombarded with questions that were going straight through your head and that’s when you heard someone call out your name - wonwoo. you turn around, spotting him on the other side, a few feet away from you. you smile and run towards him, running into his arms as he picks you up and spins you around.

“we did it”, you whisper, your face inches away from his. “we did it”, he repeats, giving you a proud smile. you lean in, kissing him, not caring about what people were going to think anymore. wonwoo kisses you back with the same fierceness, like he was telling you that he was going to stand by you, so that you could conquer the world with him.

-epilogue-

after your father was dropped from all the accusations and was free, his company was slowly starting to gain traction again. the people were now in support of him, now more than ever and people wanted to know his story. but he always said one thing - that he wouldn't have been able to do it without you by his side. you ended up finally graduating college after your father approached them and they did give you extra credits for the trouble they caused you. you’d gotten your own office space in your dad’s building to work from and you were on your way to build your own company that stood for what it believed it.

you’re standing in front of wonwoo in your office with your arms crossed over your chest as you stare him down. he only stands, blinking down at you.

“what is it love?”, he asks.

“we can’t do this anymore wonwoo”, you tell and a wave of emotion seems to go through wonwoo’s face.

“do what?”, he asks calmly.

“this!”, you say, gesturing your hands between him and you.

“i don’t want you to be my bodyguard anymore”, you state and he furrows his brows, confused.

“what do you mean?”, he asks. “did i do something wrong?”, he asks, taking a small step towards you.

“i don’t need a bodyguard anymore”, you tell sternly.

“i beg to differ”, he says calmly.

“i want you to be my boyfriend”, you say and he raises a brow at this proposition.

“i thought i already was”, he mumbles as he bashfully pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“no more of this bodyguard business, you can be my full-time boyfriend now”, you tell and you can see the small smile playing on wonwoo’s lips.

“but isn’t a bodyguard and boyfriend in one an advantage?”, he asks.

“but i just want you to be my boyfriend instead”, you say, pouting.

“but the perks of having a bodyguard and a boyfriend is truly one of a kind”, he says, stepping closer as hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“oh really?”, you ask, tilting you heard to the side.

“and what might that be?”, you ask, settling your hands on wonwoo’s shoulders.

“you know, i can protect you, plus you get to see my handsome face 24/7”, he says and you snort.

“what i know you love it. if i had a dollar everytime i caught you staring at me-”,

“shut up”, you tell, giggling.

“and the most important perk of all, free kisses”, he tells and you chuckle even more. “what? you’re always stealing kisses from me and-”, you cut him off by kissing him, which only seems to prove the point he was making.

“see, you can’t do that”, he tells, leaning in.

“why not”, you ask, playing along.

“because you’re distracting me from my work”, he says, leaning in and kissing you again.

“that’s why you need to stop this bodyguard stuff and just be my boyfriend instead”, you whisper against his lips.

“but then you won’t see me 24/7”, he tells.

“but then i can distract you”, you fill in.

“hm we’ll see about that love”, he says, before he captures your lips and kisses you breathlessly.

the end

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dailyadventureprompts · 2 months

Note

Do the ethnostates inherent in major fantasy ever feel real weird to you? You’ve got elftopia (full of elves, where everyone speaks elf and worships the elf gods), orc-hold (full of orcs and maybe their slaves, where everyone speaks orc and worships the orc gods), and dwarfton (made by the dwarves! for the dwarves!).

You might have some cosmopolitan areas, usually human-dominant, but those are usually rare enough in-setting that they need to be pointed out separately. Is this just based on a misunderstanding of the medieval era, and the assumption that countries were all racially homogenous?

This has been bouncing around my brain the last little while. Do you have any thoughts on that? Is it just in my head?

I think what you've noticed is a quirk of derivative fantasy writing, which like a lot of hangups with the genre originates in people trying to crib Tolkien's work without really understanding what he was going for:

Though it contains a lot of detail, Tolkien's world is not grounded. It functions according a narrative logic that changes depending on what work in particular you're focusing on at the time (The Hobbit is a fairytale full of tricks and riddles, Lord of the Rings is a heroic epic, The Silmirilion is a legendary history).

One of the reasons the races are separate is to instill the feeling of wonder in the hobbits as POV characters for the reader, other folk live in far off places and are supposed to feel more legendary than our comparatively mundane friends from the shire. The Movies captured this well where going east in middle earth was like going back in time to a more and more mythologized past.

In real life, people don't stay static for thousands of years, no matter how long their people live. They meet, mingle, war and trade. Empires rise and fall creating shrapnel as they go, cultures adapt to a changing environment. This means that any geographic cross section you make is going to be a collage of different influences where uniformity is a glaring aberration.

What the bad Tolkien knockoffs did was take his image of a mythical world and tried to make it run in a realistic setting. Tolkien can say the subterranean dwarven kingdom of Erebor lasted for a thousand years without having to worry about birthrates or demographic shifts or the logistics of farming in a cave because he's writing the sort of story where those things don't matter. D&D and other properties like it however INSIST that their worlds are grounded and realistic but have to bend over backwards to keep things static and hegemonic.

Likewise contributing to the "ethnostate" feeling is early d&d (backbone of the fantasy genre that it is) being created by a bunch of White Midwestern Americans who were not only coming from a background of fantasy wargaming but were working during the depths of the coldwar. Hard borders and incompatible ideologies, cultural hegemony and intellectual isolation, a conception of the world that focused around antagonism between US and THEM. These were people born in the era of segregation for whom the idea of cultural and racial osmosis was alien, to the point where mingling between different fantasy races produced the "mongrelman" monster, natural pickpockets who combined the worst aspects of all their component parts, unwelcome in good society who were most often found as slaves.

This inability to appreciate cultural exchange is likewise why the central d&d pantheon has a ton of human gods with specific carveouts for other races (eventually supplemented with a bunch of race specific minor gods who are various riffs on the same thing). Rather than being universal ideals, the gods were seen as entities just as tribalistic as their followers.

#dnd meta #history #tolkien

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jjkamochoso · 3 months

Text

I Think I Like This Little Life

Nanami x gn!reader

Fluff

Nanami and reader have an adult conversation…

Warnings: a tiny bit suggestive in one part

“Kento.”

“Hm?”

“Are we boring?”

You and Nanami finally had a day off where neither of you were completely exhausted, nor were you called off in some sketchy part of the city to fight curses or held up in your offices, catching up on paperwork. When you woke up that quiet Saturday morning, you felt strangely relaxed. Nanami greeted you with his signature sleepy smile and a kiss on the forehead when he got out of bed. Since it was the weekend, you figured it was the best time to do all the fun things you’ve wanted to but never had the time for. However, you found yourself rain checking invitations for lunch with your cousin and clubbing with your friends. Of all the ideas that sounded the most pleasant to you today, those weren’t it. You slowly peeled yourself out of the bed sheets and draped a bathrobe over your pajamas to ease the chill. You padded your way to the kitchen where soft classical music filled the air and Nanami was simultaneously brewing tea and cooking eggs.

“Good morning, darling,” he called out, giving you another peck, this time on the cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

“With you next to me, my love? Always,” came your reply, earning you the chance to see a small blush on your boyfriend’s face before he turned back to the task at hand. You hummed along quietly to the song that was playing and appreciated the view you had of your domesticated partner. As he finally set a mug and plate down in front of you, everything piping hot, you smiled appreciatively and waited for him to seat himself before savoring the delicious breakfast. These types of quiet mornings were your absolute favorite. There was no need to fill the air with mindless chatter or anxious laughter. The company of each other was more than enough for both of you. The shy stolen glances between you at the dining table were routine in your relationship as you both found yourselves enamored with each other but still lost in the throes of young love. Your first meal eventually came to a close and as you stood to do the dishes, Nanami was quick to intervene.

“Don’t worry about those, y/n, I’ll do them. Please, sit down and enjoy your rest.”

You rose anyway. “No way! You cooked us a delicious meal, it’s only fair I clean it up.”

Nanami looked like he wanted to protest but gave up when he saw the determination on your face. “Fine. You wash, I’ll dry.”

As the last dish was put away and the sink rinsed clean, Nanami strolled over to you, grabbing you by the hips and staring deep into your eyes. “You know, I have a big day planned for us.”

You tried not to let your disappointment show. You had hope for a day filled with recharge and rejuvenation but you didn’t want to let your lover down. “Oh? And what’s included in that?”

He cocked his head, pretending to be deep in thought. “Well, first off we could…” He trailed off, distracted by your extremely kissable lips that were extremely close to his own. As he leaned in, painfully taking his time, his phone began to ring loudly.

“Tch,” he muttered under his breath, but you weren’t deterred. You ran your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck, goosebumps immediately popping up on his skin, and closed the distance, slotting your lips against his. You both made a contented noise at the contact. The kiss was gentle but needy, passionate but tender. Nanami’s phone had stopped ringing for but just a moment before the tone began again. He groaned into the kiss but still didn’t stop, his hands now roaming freely over your body and now it was your turn to groan, albeit for a different reason. His phone stopped ringing and started again once more.

“Whoever it is better have a good reason for interrupting us,” grumbled Nanami, breaking from your touch to answer his cellphone. “Nanami Kento. Oh, it’s you. No, thank you. I have plans. Yes, plans. No, not with you. No. No. I’ll see you on Monday.” He hung up.

“Let me guess, that was Gojo?” you mused, a grin erupting on your face. You could tell it was the white haired man on the phone with your beloved because he was immediately annoyed. Nanami nodded his head, his arms enveloping you in a hug as he rested his chin on your head.

“He wanted to know if we wanted to go out with him tonight for dinner and then clubbing. I hope you don’t mind I turned him down.” The blonde was taken aback by your giggling. “What’s so funny?” he asked you, letting go of the hug but holding you by the shoulders.

“I turned down my cousin and friends for lunch and the club today as well.” Nanami breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good. I have no plans today, I want no plans today. This day is ours and we will do as we please.” You nodded in agreement and sealed that with another long winded kiss before you went to your bathroom to get ready.

Thankfully the day had gone by pretty slow. It was a beautiful spring day so you and Nanami enjoyed a nice stroll around your neighborhood, listening to the chirps of the birds and rustling of the squirrels. You pointed things out to each other like a gorgeous flower (that Nanami of course compared you to) and a garden gnome (you couldn’t help that it looked just like Nanami!). You even cloud gazed for a while, enjoying the smells of the freshly mowed grass you found yourself laying on. When it came time for lunch, you made sandwiches for the both of you and munched on them while you did word search puzzles and Nanami did Sudoku puzzles. Like before, not many words were shared during this time but the comfortable silence was everything you could wish for. The plates were cleared, the sponge rinsed out. Another meaningful kiss was shared. Now it was time for household chores. You dusted while Nanami vacuumed. Nanami put the clothes in the washer, you put them in the dryer, you both folded them when they were done. You cleaned the sink in the bathroom while Nanami cleaned the toilet and shower. When that was done, it was time for another break. You picked up the cross stitch project you had been working on while Nanami settled for reading his newspaper. You sat in the family room on the couch while he opted for the chair. The window was opened slightly which allowed for the faintest touch of fresh air to be brought in by the light breeze. It was getting late into the afternoon and the birds, though still singing their songs, were beginning to head into their nests for the night. As you got lost into your project, the rustling of the newspaper brought you back to earth and into a new thought.

“Kento.”

“Hm?”

“Are we boring?”

Nanami lowered his paper and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t usually answer a question with a question, so forgive me y/n, but what brought on that thought?”

You went back to your cross stitching, nervously weaving the needle back and forth. “Well, it’s Saturday. We were asked to go out and join our friends in doing crazy things and instead we acted like an old married couple.”

“Would you have liked to gone out?”

“No. Would you?”

“Absolutely not.” His response was lightning fast.

“And so,” you laughed, “that raises the question. Are we boring?”

Nanami neatly folded his newspaper and sat next to you, taking your project out of your fidgeting grasp and replaced it with his hands. “I would spend the rest of my days watching paint dry if I had the pleasure of you sitting next to me as I did it. If the only views I ever saw were of neighborhood animals and our kitchen stove, as long as you were by my side, I’d be the happiest man on the planet. If that makes me boring, so be it.” You could tell he meant every word of what he said. Maybe you were being too hard on yourself—being able to build a life with someone as loving and kind as Nanami isn’t a privilege everybody is able to have and so what if people don’t understand you like to live a slow life? The only thing that matters at the end of the day is that Kento Nanami is yours, and you, his. You lifted your entwined hands up to your lips and gave his knuckles little kisses to show your appreciation for his answer. Unfortunately for you, you would never know just how wildly fast Nanami’s heart beat in his chest at the action, but you could get a feeling for what was going on by the deep blush spreading on his cheeks and his slightly flustered body language. You were definitely going to cancel plans to stay in more often.

#nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami kento #nanami #nanami kento fluff #nanami x reader fluff

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sohnric · 4 months

Text

to. my first – k. sunwoo

pairing: kim sunwoo x fem! reader

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

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

word count: 31k

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

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

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

August 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first time getting drunk

April 1999

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deserved, Sunwoo thinks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look grumpy.”

“I’m just worried,” you note.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm?”

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“Okay.”

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

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

to. my first detention

September 1999

Sunwoo was never the one to break the rules.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sir, I really–”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I can join!! i could use some froyo

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

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

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

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

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

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

weirdo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah,” he shrugs.

He did not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…maybe his sister was right.

Maybe the bracelet had a deeper intention.

August 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first dance

November 1999

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

Maybe you’re right. Maybe he should go.

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

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

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

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

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first date

January 2000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It won’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 2007

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

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

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

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

Not at all. Why would anyone even think that?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, is it any good?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wanna bet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first kiss

March 2000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe he should start hanging out with Eric less.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know what? Just forget–”

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

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

“Yeah,” he agrees.

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

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

“Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You know you can kiss back, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was it that ba–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

August 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anything specific?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

Maybe you have more time now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That bad?” Sunwoo asks empathetically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, as if–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first girlfriend

May 2000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

to. my first lover

August 2000

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

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

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

“Is everything alright?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did!” you nod, grinning back.

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

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

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

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

“You don’t seem excited,” you argue.

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

“What is it?”

“What is what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

“Okay,” he nods, smiling at you.

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

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

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

to. my first love

September 2000

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was just scared to hear your voice. Terribly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

September 2007

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t call me cute and clueless–”

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

“I didn’t even like you back then!”

“Sure you didn’t.”

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

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

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

Cute and clueless, you think.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#deoboyznet #sunwoo #the boyz #sunwoo fluff #sunwoo x reader #sunwoo angst #the boyz angst #the boyz fluff #the boyz x reader #the boyz scenario #the boyz imagine #sunwoo scenario #sunwoo imagine

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flynnriderishot · 3 months

Note

i needddd cute pt 2

cute pt.2 - m.s

a/n: i’ve been feeling really bad that i missed the original persons request by a mile 😭 so i’m gonna add that into this part lol

warnings: i couldn’t really figure out how to word it but i PROMISE matt wasn’t being creepy about following her to the bathroom‼️ he just really wanted to meet her. we don’t do that weird shit over here 🙄

also, vinnie hacker mention 🗣️ unfortunately, he has nothing to do with the story, i just needed someone to add💀

you were invited to a party that a friend of a friend was throwing.

did you know who this person was? vaguely.

in your eyes, it didn’t really matter.

what mattered was that matt sturniolo and his brothers would also be attending this party.

while you didn’t really have to go, you were a good friend and rightfully needed some time away from your social media life.

what better way to do that than to surround yourself with social media influencers? cue the sarcasm.

what made this all the more annoying to you was that it was a ‘valentines day’ party.

as if you weren’t all over the age of eighteen. you wanted to roll your eyes at the thought.

sure, the thought was cute and the idea was definitely there. but as you walked into the house, y/f/n’s hand in your own, you couldn’t help but scrunch up your face at the excessive amount of pink and red that flooded your vision.

“i guess we missed the memo?”

“no, i saved us the embarrassment of looking like we were back in third grade.” y/fn laughed out a scoff.

“i should definitely pay you more.”

while she was your friend, she also helped quite a lot with managing your channel. with reminding you of what your supporters wanted to see, to recording you anytime you needed content.

and though before she would say it was out of the kindness of her heart, you felt bad that she did so much for free. and once you started getting popular, you made quick work to pay her for all the stuff she did in the past and now she practically worked for you.

it was a win win situation. you got a best friend and a coworker all in one. it was much better than your previous partner that expected so much more for doing not nearly as much as y/f/n did.

“i definitely wouldn’t complain.”

you shared a laugh, moving your way through the crowed and to the drink table.

��i haven’t been to a party in a while, what are the odds we see a fight break out?”

a voice behind you interrupted before she could respond, “that would make this place so much more entertaining.”

your eyes widen as you froze up, trying to pinpoint where you may have heard the voice before turning around to actually see who it was.

“hi.” nick smiled at you.

“oh my god. hi.” you pulled him into a hug, pulling away to see him do the same to y/f/n, introducing himself to her as they hadn’t known one another very well.

“it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“you’re telling me.” you stepped aside so he could lean against the wall with you two, “i’ve been wanting to say thank you in person since you’ve sent me that lip balm.”

“i can vouch.” y/f/n spoke up, “after your live together, she wouldn’t shut up about it.”

nick smiled, “i appreciate it, and i’m glad you like it. ive been wanting to meet you too, you’re like one of my favorite youtubers ever.”

“my god, shut up.” you roll your eyes, nick coping the motion.

“speaking of the live…”

“goodness.”

nick didn’t stop, “what’s this crush you have on my brother?”

“no crush, just…admiring his beauty.” you brushed off the teasing look they gave you.

“it’s definitely a crush. you can’t admire matt’s beauty without thinking nick and chris are attractive as well. they’re triplets.” y/f/n stated matter of factly.

“right.” nick agreed, “we literally have the same face.”

“nick and chris are gorgeous.”

“oh, thank you.”

you look back to see chris walking towards you guys, smile on his face. with just a simply glance to the side, you could see matt following closely behind his brother, eyes darting around him.

“oh.” your eyes widen, chris’ snort echoing in your ears as you pass your soda off to him, “i need to go to the bathroom.”

“no, you don’t.” nick laughed.

“i’ll be back!” you shouted, secretly having no intentions of returning until it was clear that matt wouldn’t be around.

“she’s nervous to meet you.” you could hear y/f/n telling matt after the middle triplet asked what was wrong.

if he was absolutely beautiful through your screen, you couldn’t imagine what he’d look like in person.

you barely managed to stop your face from warming up when you saw him in one of their podcasts episodes, how would you react if you got the chance to see him in person? last thing you wanted to do was embarrass yourself.

“hi, yn.” a voice called out, leading you to look over and smile,

“hi, vinnie.”

“you okay?” the hacker frowned at your unusually tense nature.

“i’m fine, i need the bathroom!” you called out, unaware of the blue eyes that were following your figure, also hearing your statement and making it his goal to get there before you.

“you’re going the wrong way.” vinnie laughed, pointing in the opposite direction of which you were walking.

“right, i knew that!” yoh waved off his drunken cackle, managing to make it down the hall and to the bathroom within a minute. you hoped you were lucky enough to walk in a not see some random couple doing it on the counter top.

as you opened the door, letting a sigh of relief and a short, “jesus”, you were startled when a voice spoke to you,

“take it as a compliment, you’re a lot cuter in person.”

opening your eyes in a panic, you spotted matt, arms crossed over his chest as he stood in front of the mirror.

“oh, my god.”

taglist: @hearts4chris @timmyandsturniolo @mayhem-72 @luvsturns @knowingnothingnoel @mrsmattyb

tags for this fic: @3kslav @bb-1s-blog @annamcdonalds67 @sturns333 @dracoflaco @electrobutterfly @wolfstarfate @landrysflannel @3mm4yung @strnsblog @lexxxiii-iix @patscorner @lemon-criminal

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo

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moodriingz · 18 days

Text

The Prophecy | J. Hughes

Summary | You’ve given up on love until love hits you in the face (with a door)

Warnings | Unedited, one curse word, (really bad) angst

Author's Note | I finally finished all of my finals! So that means more regular stories so send in requests! This is also part of my 100 follower celebration!

Masterlist | 100 follower celebration

You never expected to feel so lost in a city you lived in for most of your adult life. You and your college boyfriend broke up after five years of dating. You met early in your freshman year and were stuck together like glue. He made you feel like you caught lightning in a bottle, so much so you were willing to do anything for him. So many of your friends thought you were going to get married and he had been hinting at it since you graduated a year ago.

You were blindsided when he said that he didn’t think you two should be together anymore and basically kicked you out of your shared apartment. Luckily Hannah, your best friend, offered to stay in her apartment until you could find one.

All you could think was that it was your fault. Why else would he end it so suddenly? He gave you little to no explanation. Even though you were still so young you felt like you would never find a love like his. It was like someone was betting against you. All you ever wanted was someone who wanted your company.

After a couple of weeks you were able to find a new apartment in a different part of town and you never felt so excited or rejuvenated. Hannah was trying to convince you to start dating again, but you told her it was too soon. You were scared someone was betting against your love life and you didn’t want to risk it yet.

Little did you know when you went to check out a new pizza place you would run into the cutest guy you’ve ever seen. It wasn’t a normal meeting though he almost gave you a concussion by hitting you with the door.

“I’m so sorry, are you ok? How many fingers am I holding up?” The stranger asks as he stares into your eyes looking for any signs of injury. Before you respond you notice his really tall friend recovering the pizza off the ground.

“I’m fine thank- why are you moving your finger in front of my eyes?” You ask confused about what he is doing.

“I’m trying to make sure you don’t have a concussion. You hit your head pretty hard when you fell,” he said, still doing some concussion protocol? You’re not too certain what is happening honestly.

“I think I’m ok I really appreciate it though,” you say finally getting the opportunity to stand up as he backs up. You go to move inside before he stops you.

“Wait what’s your name?”

“Y/n,” You tell him before turning around to enter the shop and order your much deserved pizza.

Later you meet up with Hannah to debrief about both of your weeks. You almost forgot to tell her about the mystery pizza man until she mentions dating to you again.

“Hannah, I'm not going on a date right now. But there was this really cute guy who almost gave me a concussion the other night when I went to get pizza,” You say nonchalantly.

“What? Y/n why didn’t you tell me? What’s his name? Are you going out with him?” She babbles as you roll your eyes.

“No to all of those questions. I felt like such a fool because of my ex and I’m not doing that again.” You say with a shrug. Living alone has really forced you to think about your relationship and you realized that the end of your relationship was most likely your fault, and you definitely do not want to get into another relationship until you figure out how to stop it from happening again.

After dinner you and Hannah decide to hit a club that was only semi full until the hockey crowd filtered in after the game. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits though so the Devils must have won.

Little did you know is that your pizza mystery man was currently walking in the club with some of his teammates to celebrate. Hannah was a pretty big fan and spotted some of them almost instantly.

“Oh my gosh the Devils are here we should go say hey. Maybe you can find a date,” She wasn’t going to take no for an answer so you just let her pull you by the wrist.

Hannah finally stops when she’s face to face with Nico, who you only recognize because of all of his ads around town. Before you can introduce yourself someone calls out your name.

“Y/n,” Your mystery man. He says it shocked like he didn’t expect to see you again.

“You know Jack Hughes?” Hannah whispers into your ear. You just ignore her because maybe it's fate? Maybe it’s a cruel joke?

You don’t even know what to say, you’re so shocked by the turn of events. You never would’ve thought you’d meet him again. You thought your near concussion experience would be the last you see of him.

“I’m Jack by the way,” He says and you’re drawn in by his voice and his eyes that haven’t left yours.

“I think you owe me a drink for almost killing me,” You say, shocking yourself.

“In my defense I didn’t try to give you a concussion, my brother was distracting me,” He says leading you to the bar. You order your regular drink and he does the same before asking you if you’d want to talk for a bit.

The two of you talked for what seemed like minutes until Hannah came to find you to let you know that she’s leaving. You check the time and realize you should probably leave as well.

“I had an amazing night thanks for keeping me company,” You say getting up to leave.

“Wait let me give you my number,” Jack says standing up and you nod, handing him your phone.

You walk Hannah home because you’re much more sober than she is and all she can talk about is that you know Jack Hughes.

“You should go out with him, he's so cute and sweet.”

“Hannah I’m not dating right now and you know that,” You say, leading her to her door.

“Yeah I know but you just deserve to be happy, and I really think he would be perfect for you,” She said, drawing out her syllables. You say goodnight and make your way home which luckily isn’t too far from her apartment.

The next day you decide to listen to Hannah and reach out to Jack. You try texting him telling him that you had a great time talking to him last night, but the message never gets delivered. All you can do is feel idiotic. It wasn’t fate to run into him twice (physically or not). You feel so childish thinking maybe this was your chance.

You blame Hannah for getting your hopes up to think that maybe something could happen. You were starting to think that maybe it was some cruel joke fate was playing on you. You were almost compelled to pray to change your prophecy, but then you just started feeling even more insane. But, there must be a way to change it, right?

Later in the week you decide to work out of a cafe nearby and feel like the universe is playing some sick joke on you. As you look up your eyes meet with a pair of blue eyes staring you down. You smile shyly at the hockey player not knowing how to respond to someone who never responded to your text. Jack took that as an invitation to join you.

“You never called,” He says as he sits down.

“I texted but you never responded,” You say nervous you’d get turned down in person this time.

“What are you talking about? I was so excited to see you again because I wanted to get your number the first time we met but I thought it would be weird if I asked after almost giving you a head injury. I would’ve noticed if you texted me,” He rambles and you just pull out your phone to show him the message. He clicks around on your phone until his eyes get wide.

“I gave you the wrong number,” Jack says with a blush on his face. You feel that maybe your tables are turning. Instead of fate working against you, maybe they just wanted you two to meet a couple of times.

“Third times a charm right?” You smile at him as he fixes his number in your phone. You two fall into conversation once again before he checks the time.

“I have to go but I can’t leave until you agree to go on a date with me,” Jack says with a hopeful gleam in his eyes. You just nod knowing that someone was finally betting on your love life.

#hockey imagine #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #hughes brothers #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #nj devils #jack hughes fic #jh86 #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x oc

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blckbrdlove · 11 months

Text

someone else lights up the room

paring: eren jeager x reader

summary: it’s mid-september and eren’s falling in love for the first time in his whole life. too bad for mikasa, it isn’t with her, but with you.

genre: fluff, smut, slight angst (just in case)

notes: well pals! here she is!! my long, long awaited re-write for this series. a lot of this will seem familiar to those who read this part when i first posted this series, but there is some new stuff we haven’t read yet as well! after this part, almost everything we see will be new to all of us. i am very happy to get this out and to hear everyone’s thoughts on the re-write. reblogs and comments are much, much appreciated. please give me any and all feedback you may have. i know i put it off, and missed lots of deadlines i promised you guys, but i have put my whole heart into her. i am very excited to get this whole series out and completed to you guys, which will all be posted (hopefully) before the end of august. title credits; nothing new; taylor swift ft. phoebe bridgers

warnings: MINORS DNI, angst, fluff, meet cute, eren is a hopeless romantic, eren is a gentleman, eren is a sweet boy, eren falls in love with reader basically at first sight and has been smitten with her ever since, reader recently got out of a toxic relationship and is still healing- but is also very smitten with eren, unrequited love (mikasa), mentions of creampie, jealousy, smut, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving)

word count: 8k

series masterlist next

Eren spots you from across the courtyard walking with your little blonde friend after his final class for the day. It makes him stop and completely tune out whatever Mikasa is trying to talk to him about regarding their upcoming applications for medical school that are due in a few weeks.

You’ve got on a little light blue floral dress that shows off your legs and collar bones beautifully, and paired with some strappy white sandals that show off the pretty polish on your toenails.

It makes him wonder if your skin is as soft as it looks from this distance. He bets it is, and he bets you smell really good, too.

Your friend says something that makes you laugh, the sound bringing a half grin on Eren’s own face as his heart stutters in his chest.

Mikasa looks up to see if he’s paying attention, quickly taking notice of the gleam in his eyes and half smile beginning to take up his face. It almost makes her smile before she realizes he isn’t even paying attention to her.

Her gaze follows the direction of his, quickly noticing you walking in their direction with your friend’s arm linked through yours.

She quickly frowns, being unfortunately reminded of the deep infatuation that Eren has with you that began during last spring’s semester. Honestly, the first time he talked about you, she thought you were an idiot, being the only junior in a freshman level chemistry class and barely passing. She often wondered if Eren tweaked your grades on the papers and exams he graded as Professor Hange’s TA, not that she would ever admit that to him.

Annie had been the one to inform him that you had a boyfriend, and had been with said boyfriend since high school, her knowing from not only going to high school with you and your friends but having been in the same friend group before she broke up with Bertholdt. Apparently her friendship wasn’t as valued to you guys as his was and she made her quick exit and found herself in their little friend group now, thanks to her and Armin’s relationship, if you could even call it that currently.

Discovering your relationship didn’t quell Eren’s interest a bit, and he asked Annie to tell him everything she knew about you, which was actually quite a bit despite not being very close to you.

Annie met you through your, now ex, boyfriend Porco Galliard. You were a cheerleader and top of your class at Marley Prep and you have stupid rich parents who fund your whole lifestyle and want you to be the happiest you can be.

In Mikasa’s mind, you just really aren’t the type of person she think Eren would be happy with. Sure, his family is well off, but your parents, from what she knows, are on a whole different level, and you seem shallow.

She ends up so lost in thought she doesn’t even hear Armin walk up and start a conversation with them, going off about some party that Annie said she was going to tonight and hinted that she’d like to see him there if he was available.

“Armin, not that I mind going with you, but I’m not sure why you need me to go with you?” Eren spoke with slight confusion.

Armin looks between Eren and Mikasa, “I’ll just feel better if the two of you are there with me,”

Eren’s gaze turns soft when he notices how tense Armin is, how nervous he actually is at the thought of joining Annie at this party. Mikasa speaks up before Eren can respond, “We have a really, really important lab tomorrow, but as long as we aren’t out too late we can come.”

It almost upsets Eren at how definitive her answer is, how she’s decided for them that they need to be home at a certain time, that he needs to be home at a certain time. He isn’t a child, and he’s getting tired of all the coddling he gets between Mikasa and his mother.

“Lab isn’t until 9 anyway, so we don’t have to be home that early anyway.”

Armin throws his arms around his two best friends, mumbling quick thank you’s and you guys are the best.

εїз

Eren doesn’t exactly hate parties, but he didn’t particularly want to be here tonight. He’s under a lot of stress with his applications for early acceptance to his top medical school choices being due soon and his mom has been on his ass about coming to visit, which he typically doesn’t mind doing but before returning to campus for this last year at university, he and his dad got into a huge fight over where he’d be going to school and residencies and all the bullshit he didn’t want to deal with, especially since he still hasn’t told his dad that he doesn’t know if he plans on going to medical school.

But there isn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for Armin, and if Armin needs him here for moral support, then he’s here.

Grabbing a cup and putting who knows what is in it, he turns around to make his way back to the living room to find his friends when he stumbles into another body. Reaching for your wrist, nearly dropping his cup in the process, he helps steady your body as his eyes widen slightly realizing just who it is he just ran into.

You’re slightly more intoxicated than you’d typically like to be, but after spending the afternoon watching your phone blow up with text after text from Porco before you finally had to buckle down and block him, again, over some of the hateful things he had sent you, all you wanted to do was drink and forget about the stupid break up, which paired perfectly with the fact that Hitch had wanted to come to this party and stalk Marlo.

Eren’s eyes trail up your figure, taking in all of you. Tonight you’re wearing dark wash jeans that compliment you in all the right places, light rips line the area of your thighs. The denim comes up and rests perfectly on your hips, while the light pink top you have on hugs your chest in a way that Eren knows if he looks for too long, his own jeans will start to get tight, with the amount of cleavage your showing on top of the way it clings to you.

Your own eyes look over him, taking in his pairing of dark wash jeans and a plain black shirt that clings to his muscles just right. He’s got nice hair too, you note to yourself, and it’s thrown into a sexy messy bun. You can’t help but wonder if it’s as soft as it looks.

The two of you make eye contact and it feels like his eyes are trying to find your soul with how deeply he’s looking at you.

Your staring is interrupted by Hitch, who stumbles in and grabs your free wrist with a giddy look in her eyes, “You won’t believe who just got here,” And just like that, you’re pulled away from him and into the crowd of people.

Hitch drags you over to your other two friends. Historia is sitting on Ymir’s lap as the latter is whispering, what you can only assume, dirty words in her ear. The way Historia is fidgeting in her girlfriend’s lap with her lip between her teeth makes you fairly sure that the two won’t be here for much longer.

You look at Hitch with a raised eyebrow and tilt your head back to the two of them in question. “Reiner is here.” Distaste fills your features at the mention of the blond brute as you hum before taking Historia’s cup from her and drinking the bitter, clean liquid.

“Vodka? Yuck.” Your face is scrunched up as you close your eyes and drink the remainder of the drink. You look back at Hitch, “No Pieck?”

Hitch frowns at the mention of the dark haired girl and shakes her head, not knowing why you would even bother to ask.

Pieck wasn’t initially your friend, she was his friend, but she quickly embedded herself into your friend group after you had started dating him. Hitch never really liked her, to be fair Hitch doesn’t really like anyone, in fact she always thought Pieck had tried a little too hard to be your friend, always looked at you a little too long. There had been multiple occasions where the shorter girl would lace her fingers with yours when she thought no one was paying attention, or Hitch would find her sending a heated glare in Proco’s direction when he would cling to you in front of her.

And it’s not like she’s even been around since the monumental breakup that occurred in June. Sending all of your calls to voicemail and neglecting the group chat before Ymir had enough and finally just kicked her out completely.

Needless to say, Hitch thought Pieck was fucking weird. But what she thought was weirder was that after you and Porco broke up, she completely ghosted not only the group- which Hitch could’ve excused- but you as well. Hitch couldn’t care less about Pieck not wanting to stay friends with her, but what bothered her was how hurt you were over it.

Sure, you have herself, Historia, and Ymir. Hitch has been your best friend since first grade and has never been anything less than your rock. Always there when you need her and never letting you down. And Historia joined the two of you, turning your duo into a trio in sixth grade when you and Hitch decided to join the cheer squad for middle school, and you met Historia at tryouts. The three of you made the squad and the rest was history.

When Ymir started dating Historia freshman year of college, she quickly learned how much you and Hitch meant to her, and in turn, as long as it was in her means, if you needed anything she was there.

But Pieck’s different, she’s no Historia, and she’s definitely no Hitch, but she’s Pieck and you hold a lot of love for her. And you were absolutely heartbroken that when you called her after the huge final blowout between you and Porco and she didn’t answer.

Sure, Hitch and Historia know how bad your relationship was, they know everything, but Pieck was the only one who saw how bad it was. It killed you to know she didn’t care enough to even just answer or send you a stupid text despite everything.

As if she can sense your mood dampening, Hitch grabs your hands, smiling wide and giddy again as she remembers why she drug you out of the kitchen in the first place, “You will not believe who is here!”

You roll your eyes playfully as you turn to give her your full attention so she can talk all about Marlo, not even noticing the eyes that can’t stop looking in your direction.

Across the room Eren stands with Mikasa and Armin, the blonde nearly sweating through his light blue button up shirt. Despite trying to calm him down, Mikasa can tell Eren’s mind is elsewhere. He keeps glancing across the room.

Following his eyes, Mikasa’s land on you with your friends and she has to fight an eyeroll, already irritated with being here.

Despite thinking his crush was stupid, hollow even, she couldn’t deny that she’ll never forget how upset she had been when she overheard Eren talk about you with Armin, the former had told him that you were probably the prettiest girl he had ever seen.

When she looked up your instagram later that same night, her stomach knotted as she noticed just how pretty you looked in all your photos, how put together you always seemed. Mikasa’s never really been insecure over girls Eren had brought in and out over the years, but you were just a different story.

Armin seems to finally catch on to the fact that Eren isn’t paying attention to his nervous ranting.

“Eren! Hello?” Armin finally snaps him out of trance, Eren looking at him briefly before looking back over at you, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” He tells him off handedly, gaze still on you. You have a bright smile on your face as Hitch says something, he assumes, is funny.

“You should just go talk to her,” Armin finally tells him with an exasperated sigh, which causes both Eren and Mikasa’s heads to snap towards him.

“Why would I do that?” “Why would he do that?” Eren’s eyes meet Mikasa’s as she blushes harshly under his gaze that holds deep offense.

Armin looks between the two before he clears his throat awkwardly, “I mean it’s not like she has a boyfriend anymore or anything. Worst case scenario she ignores you,”

Eren nods before frowning slightly, “Yeah, but I almost knocked her down in the kitchen and didn’t even apologize,”

Armin looks at him with wide eyes, almost gasping, “You mean to tell me you finally had a chance to talk to her? And you didn’t?”

Another offended look is on Eren’s face in an instant, “How do you know I didn’t talk to her?”

Armin scoffs as he rolls his eyes at Eren’s question, “Well, actually, I know you. And I know for a fact that you didn’t talk to her because you wouldn’t be over here with us talking about her, you’d be over there with her. And I also know that even if talking to her didn’t work out, you still would’ve said something about it.”

Mikasa frowns again, “But aren’t we supposed to be here to support you, Armin? I mean you’re a nervous wreck.” Armin gives her a weird side eye, and frowns lightly at her behavior.

“I mean I have you here, and Jean and Connie are here if all else fails?” Though he says it as if it’s a question, Mikasa knows the question is why she’s being so defensive about Eren talking to you.

“I think it’ll be fine,” Armin turns back to Eren, giving him a nervous grin, “Just go talk to her1 Annie’s here already anyway.”

Eren nods to himself, and then looks between Armin and Mikasa with a half grin that makes Mikasa want to melt into a puddle. “Wish me luck.”

As Eren makes his way across the room towards you, Mikasa can’t help but frown as she starts to compare herself to you. The outfit you’ve got on compliments your body so nicely, while her ripped black jeans and black tank top do nearly nothing for her own figure. You’re also pretty outgoing, while Mikasa can barely hold a conversation with anyone who she hasn’t known since high school without cringing at herself.

The glitter that frames your eyes is also a deep contrast from the black liner that is smudged around her own, your hair is nicely styled with a pretty silver butterfly clip holding some of it back while Mikasa’s hair is at an awkward stage of nearly outgrown because she hasn’t had a chance to go get it trimmed since coming back to school.

She also has bags starting to form under her eyes, the long nights of studying getting to her. Choosing pre-med as her major in an attempt to stay close to Eren starting to bite her in the ass since it comes a lot easier for him, so he doesn’t have to study as much.

Jean and Connie join Armin and Mikasa once they notice Annie in the kitchen. Connie walks up behind Armin and wraps his arm around him, getting close to his ear so he can give him a pep talk on how to woo Annie. Armin grumbles back that he doesn’t need his help, but when Sasha bounces over, she gets on Armin’s other side and tells him that Connie means well, just take his advice!

Jean stands awkwardly next to Mikasa, who has yet to take her eyes off of Eren. Her eyes finally avert to Jean when he starts talking.

“You look really nice tonight, Mikasa,” She has a slight frown on her face, but she mumbles back a small thanks as she bites her lip. She looks like she does every day, and she wants to tell him that, but instead she gives him a fake smile that she knows he can see right though and asks him if he wants to go find something to drink. He has an idea of what she’s trying to do but smiles softly and tells her to lead the way.

As the two of them make their way to the kitchen, Mikasa takes another glance towards your direction, stomach dropping even more when she takes note that Eren’s standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets.

Hitch had been going on about Marlo and how handsome she think he is for the past twenty minutes; Ymir is about five minutes away from taking Historia up to a bathroom, and you’ve had probably one too many solo cups full of vodka when Eren made his way to you, hands in his pockets and a boyish half smile on his face.

Hitch cuts herself off mid-sentence when she takes note of the six foot two man towering over the couch you occupy, eyebrows raised as she looks between the two of you with a sparkle in her eye once she realizes his eyes are strictly on you.

Your own eyes are wide with drunken curiosity as you look at him. “I know you!” Your voice makes Eren smile slightly as you continue, “You bumped into me in the kitchen, right?”

Eren winces and lets out an awkward laugh, “Uh, yeah. I just wanted to come over and apologize, I had meant to earlier but was a little distracted.”

His heart sputters when you let out a soft giggle, “Oh, don’t worry about it! Parties can get distracting. Though, I’d hate to think you’ve spent this whole party thinking about apologizing instead of actually enjoying yourself,”

Though there’s a teasing glint in the smile on your face and in your tone, your eyes tell him you’re genuinely worried he spent the whole party worrying about the fact that he ran into you.

“Oh, uh no. Well I mean I was distracted by you, but” His eyes widen once he realizes what he said, while Hitch has to hold back laughter at the man in front of her turning red.

“You were distracted by me?” Your tone is slightly disbelieving, and your eyes have a certain shine in them that he doesn’t quite recognize but the look on your face has his own flushing even more.

Unbeknownst to the both of you, Ymir and Historia have pulled away from each other and make eye contact with Hitch, whose eyes are gleefully wide as she looks between them over your head. Historia is a little confused due to the amount of liquor she’s drank in such little, but Ymir catches on pretty quickly to what Hitch is getting at and reaches across Historia to tell you that they’re gonna head out and they’ll see you later. Historia looks confused and goes to protest but a quick look from Ymir has her quiet despite her confusion.

Waving bye to your friends, Hitch looks across the room and her eyes land on Marlo, she looks back at Eren with a coy smirk, “Keep an eye on her for me, yeah?” and before he can answer she’s up and gone.

You and Eren sit in a semi-awkward silence for a few moments before he speaks up, “Do you want another drink?” He cringes at his question and silently prays that you don’t think the worst, that he’s just trying to get you drunk.

“Actually, I think I’ve had enough to drink, but maybe we can go sit outside or something?” He nods, an excited look in his eyes that makes you smile brightly. He reaches his hand out to you, and you take it, smiling wider as he helps you up and puts an arm around your back to take you outside. Neither of you notice the heated glare in Mikasa’s eyes as she watches from the kitchen.

It’s a lot more comfortable outside, you’re able to breathe and hear a lot better. He sits next to you on the ground up against the rough brick of the house as the two of you spend nearly the next hour talking about whatever comes to mind.

Eren asks a lot about you, what you like, what your favorite food is, why your favorite song is your favorite song, asks about your major. He tells you that he thinks you look like an art major, which in turn you tell him you didn’t expect him to be in pre-med, which he laughs lightly as he nods in agreement, telling you it definitely wasn’t his first choice. You don’t ask him to elaborate, which he’s thankful for.

Mikasa frowns from her spot next to Sasha as Eren makes his way back over to the group, you shyly behind him with your fingers laced through his. Armin smiles and has to refrain from sending a thumbs up towards Eren once he notices you’re with him. Annie smiles, what Mikasa would consider her most genuine smile, and waves at you. Mikasa nearly forgot that the two of you used to be good friends at one point.

Mikasa tunes out the rest of the group as Eren explains that he’s gonna head out, you’re getting tired, and he wants to make sure you get home safe. He’s got that boyish smile on his face, and Mikasa watches how you’ve got a blinding grin on your own face, eyes not leaving him as he speaks to his friends.

Jean watches Mikasa’s eyes water slightly as Eren sticks his hand in your back pocket as the two of you walk away. Her watery eyes meeting his as she silently begs for him to make the pain go away.

εїз

Eren has you pinned up against the front door to his apartment before it can even slam shut behind you. Your chest pushed up against the door as his hands work their way up and down your sides under your shirt, teasing the underside of your breast as he grinds his erection into your ass as your back arches.

His left hand moves your hair to the side so he can suck on your neck while his right hand reaches for the button of your jeans, making quick work of getting them undone and slipping his hand into your panties. His middle finger makes quick work in circles on your clit, making you gasp in surprise and reach up with you right hand and grab at the back of his head, tangling your fingers his soft brown hair.

The light pull of your fingers causes him to groan and bite down on your neck, causing you to gasp in surprise.

He pulls his hand out of your pants and moves both hands to the hem of your jeans and begins to pull them down. His husky voice in your ear makes you moan out loud when he tells you how badly he wants to taste you.

His body follows his hands as he pulls your jeans down to your ankles, slapping your ass lightly before he spreads your cheeks so he can get a nice view of your cunt, and he groans when he sees how fucking wet you are.

His thumb finds your clit and he puts just the slightest bit of pressure, but somehow it’s enough to make you let out a soft moan of pleasure, causing him to smirk.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” You nod and moan louder as he puts more pressure, rubbing harsh circles as he leans forward and dips his tongue into you. He groans at your taste, and he takes his thumb away from your clit so he can use both hands to pull your body closer to his face.

“God you taste so fucking good,” His words make you blush, but he gives you no time to respond, his tongue finding its way back to your clenching hole.

“Ohmygod,” You can’t contain the gasp of pleasure that leaves you as your right hand reaches around to hold his head in place as he continues fucking his tongue in and out of you, hands gripping your hips tightly to keep you as close to his face as he possibly can, breathing be damned.

His tongue alternates between fucking your hole and licking at your clit. His left hand moves from your hip to your cunt, and he sticks two fingers inside you as he continues licking at your clit. He groans at your tightness around his fingers, that with the addition of the taste of you driving him insane.

“Er-eren!” You yelp out his name as his fingers make quick work of finding your g-spot, you feel him smirk against you once he feels the spongey spot. Fingering you faster, his mouth moves back to your clit, and he puckers his lips around it and begins to harshly suck on it.

The feeling is too much, you feel like you can’t breathe. His fingers repeatedly hitting your g-spot, and his mouth harshly sucking on your clit has you cumming before you even realize it.

“Eren, ah! Fuck, I-I’m cumming,” You moan out, trying to warn him so he can pull away if he wants. But he somehow manages to keep surprising you.

“That’s right baby, you fucking cum for me.” Curling his fingers slightly harder against your g-spot, his free hand grips your hip harder to hold you in place as your body starts to tremble as your orgasm washes over you. He doesn’t pull his fingers away until you’re nearly sobbing from the stimulation against your g-spot, and he slowly pulls his fingers out of your clenching hole.

He smirks as you gasp, one hand still clinging to his head while the other hold the trim by the door for dear life. Slightly leaning forward, he licks your cunt one last time in a harsh strip from your clit up, momentarily sneaking his tongue back in you one last time for good measure.

Pulling away from you, he stands back up, slowly pulling your underwear back up. Giving your ass a light tap, he bends back down and lifts your legs up one at a time at your knees to help you pull your jeans off of your ankles. Eren folds and lays them on the end table by the front door before he makes his way back over to you, who’s now turned around, face flushed and facing him with legs still slightly shaking.

He smiles at you once his hands find their place back on your hips, mouth meeting yours in a kiss that makes you gasp in surprise, but your arms quickly make their way around his neck. Licking your bottom lip, he lifts you enough to where you can wrap your legs around his waist so he can walk you to his room. His tongue works its way into your mouth, causing you to moan slightly around it as he continues kissing you until he reaches his room and sits you on the edge of the bed.

You look at him confused when he makes his way over to his closet, pulling out an old black band t-shirt. It’s faded, but well taken care of. Your eyebrows furrow when he hands it to you and makes his way to his dresser, pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants and changing into them, leaving the t-shirt he was wearing off.

“Did you not want to…” Your voice trails off as you look at him with furrowed brows as he makes his way back over to you, fighting hard to keep your eyes off of his naked chest. He crouches down so your eye level, and he frowns when he sees the slight insecurity swimming in your eyes.

Reaching a hand up, he caresses your face and rubs his thumb just under your eye before he lightly pulls your face to his, kissing you again. This kiss is much lighter than the previous one, softer, he’s being much gentler. When he pulls away you frown slightly, leaning forward for more but he stops you.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, trust me when I say I do want to. Like, very badly.” He huffs out a laugh through his nose, the furrow in your brow slightly deepening in a silent question, “But I also happen to enjoy you very much, and I’d like to take you out properly, ya know?” He blushes deeply as he says it, but the smile on your face brings a huge grin to his own.

Reaching forward, you wrap your arms back around him, pushing your face into his neck as a small sigh leaves your mouth, “I think you might be very good for me,” Eren hears you whisper as you nuzzle your face into his neck. Eren lets out a soft but genuine laugh as he pulls your body closer to his, hoping you’re right. Hoping he might just be good enough for you.

εїз

Mikasa looks around Jeans room, trying to stay as far away from him as possible in his full size bed, and she can’t help but wonder what you and Eren are doing right now.

Regret starts building deep in her gut as she realizes what she’s done with Jean will not only change the dynamic between the two of them, but also the fact that Armin is going to be so fucking disappointed in her once he realizes she only slept with Jean because she was upset Eren left with you.

Carefully crawling out of his bed, she quickly finds her phone and clothes before getting dressed and quietly leaving Jeans room.

Guilt is swirling in her stomach as she walks as quickly and quietly as she can out of his apartment and makes her way up a few flights of stairs to the one she shares with Armin and Eren.

She prays to herself that Armin and Annie decided to go back to Annie’s place, so they don’t have to see the disgusted look she has on her face. Disgust with herself, disgust with the fact that Jean let her use him, disgust with the fact that that the more she walks, the more she can feel Jean’s cum leaking out of her. Her disgust is quickly overcome by even more guilt as she unlocks the front door to the apartment.

Guilt is a terrible feeling, it’s nothing compared to the heartbreak she feels as she’s walking towards her room. Because the last thing she expected when she walked past the bathroom was to see Eren holding you up on the counter by the sink as he attempts to wipe the glitter off of your eyes.

He’s got that stupid smile on his face as he whispers for you to keep your eyes shut, he’s almost done. He holds your head at the nape of your neck gently with one hand while the other makes work of carefully rubbing your eye.

You’re mumbling incoherently, sleep lacing your voice as you hold your arms around his neck, head following wherever his hand guides it.

Out of the corner of his eye, Eren notices Mikasa’s disheveled appearance, while he doesn’t make a comment one it, she notices the way he raises his eyebrow in surprise.

She wishes she could say something to defend herself, but her gaze is too caught on you. The way he holds you tenderly makes her stomach turn, he’s so careful and gentle as he caresses your face, it makes her frown in envy.

“We’re almost done, you can have the bathroom in a minute,” Eren tells her softly, and she hates that she knows his soft words aren’t for her benefit but your own. She watches as he does a quick glance over your face one last time before he throws away the makeup wipes from a brand she didn’t recognize, watches as he gently lifts you at your hips to wrap your legs around his waist and how your face instantly makes its way to his neck in an almost natural way.

“Night, Mikasa,” Eren whispers and smiles when he hears you mumble a soft night of your own. “Good night, Eren,” Her voice isn’t above a whisper either, so he doesn’t hear her voice crack as he shuts his bedroom door, leaving her in the soft yellow glow of the bathroom light, alone.

Despite all the negative and harsh thoughts running through her mind, all she can focus on is the fact that Eren had let you wear his favorite shirt.

εїз

Eren’s been awake for nearly fifteen minute, he knows he should probably wake you up too. He has a class in a little over an hour, and if he waits too much longer to get up, Mikasa will come to get him like she always does when he sleeps in.

But he can’t bring himself to care, not when you’re lying next to him making that old ass ‘the cure’ t-shirt look as good as you currently are.

He can’t help but admire you. You just look so perfect.

“You’re staring.” Eren flinches in surprise at your words, not realizing that you’ve already woken up.

“I’m gazing,” You peek an eye open at his words, a half-smile making its way onto your face at his cheesiness.

“It’s creepy.” He scoffs at you, leaning his face so close to your own that your noses are touching. “I think it’s pretty romantic.”

A hum leaves you as your raise your eyebrows at him, eyes closing slightly as you lean closer to him, lips nearly touching his, “Romantic you say?”

He sighs, nodding as his eyes refuse to leave yours, “Definitely romantic.”

Just as he’s about to lean in to seal the deal, a loud knock at his door causes the two of you to pull away from each other, “Eren, get up. We have class in a little more than an hour. I will not be late again to one of Hange’s classes because of you.”

He groans, head falling right next to your shoulder, “Yeah. Thanks, Mikasa,”

A laugh leaves your mouth, causing Eren to grin, “What time is it anyway?”

Eren reaches for his phone, clicking it on, “9:15,”

You groan loudly in despair. “I have class at 10:30,” The pout on your face almost has Eren asking if you want to skip and go get breakfast. Almost. But when you reach for your phone and sit up he decides against it.

He watches you scroll through your phone for a minute, not peeking at whatever you’re doing so he doesn’t seem like a creep. You’ve still got a little bit of glitter on your face from last night, and Eren inwardly cringes at the fact that he couldn’t get all of it off.

He likes the way you look in his bed, not to get ahead of himself but he definitely thinks that waking up with you a few days a week is something he could get used to.

Hopefully, next time you guys will have time to go get breakfast though, or maybe if it’s a weekend, you could get brunch.

Eren’s thoughts leave his mind when you look back over at him, a soft smile on your face, “Any chance I can get you to give me a ride home on your way to campus?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.” He tries not to sound too excited at the thought of you sitting in his passenger seat. You mumble out a soft thank you as you watch him get out of bed and make his way towards his closet, leaning your head in the palm of your hand as you admire the way his back muscles move and flex when he pulls a black t-shirt over his head.

“What class do you have this morning?” He asks, with genuine curiosity, you look away to give him some sort of privacy as he takes off his sweatpants and underwear so he can put on a pair of dark wash jeans and new briefs.

“Oh, um, it’s an advanced sketching class. Nothing special.” Running your fingers through your hair, you stand up and look around his room for your jeans.

Eren turns back around as he’s buttoning his pants up, smiling when he finds you standing awkwardly without pants on. “Your pants are in the living room,”

A half-grin is on your lips when you make eye contact with him and nod. “Right, I forgot.”

“Forgot I ate you up against my front door last night?” He’s cheeky, and it makes your body heat up as you bite your lip to stop a smile from showing you enjoy his teasing. Reaching over, you lightly slap his arm and mumble for him to get his head out of the gutter, to which he gives you a cheeky smile and a peck on the cheek in relation.

Mikasa is sitting on the couch in the living room when the two of you walk out, and she has to fight looking at you too long once she notices you still aren’t wearing pants. Just that stupid t-shirt that Eren’s been attached to ever since he found it at some local thrift store when they were fourteen.

You smile and send her a small wave, getting a blank look in return that makes you frown slightly. Eren appears in front of you, holding your jeans with that same boyish grin on his face. “I think your shoes are still in my car,” A small okay leave your mouth as your slide your jeans on, not really caring for modesty at the moment since everyone in the room has already seen you without pants on.

Eren holds your phone and keys out to you, “I, uh, couldn’t find your shirt or the clip you had in your hair last night.” As he scratches the back of his neck, you have to refrain from ogling his biceps as they flex. “Oh, uh, that’s okay,”

Before either of you can say anything else, Mikasa clears her throat, “I hate to interrupt, but we have a class to get to.”

Eren gives her a weird look at the tone she uses and the look she’s giving you. “Actually, we’re taking a detour. We’re going to drop her off at her place first.”

She frowns and looks over you under her nose now that she’s standing, before giving him another look, “Eren, we seriously can’t be late again.”

You finally decide to speak up, “I can always get an uber-“

“I think that would be for the best.” “Absolutely not!”

You look awkwardly between the two of them as they glare at each other, feeling extremely out of place. You give Eren an uncomfortable look, “Really, I can find my own way home,”

Eren lets out a scoff, his eyes softening as he looks at you again, “It’s really not a big deal. And if she has such a problem with it, she can take a bus.”

Mikasa lets out a noise of disbelief grumbling a whatever, sending you a sharp glare as she storms to her room to grab her bag.

She can’t fucking believe him, how dare he? She’s been nothing but good to him for twenty-two years and this is what she gets in return? Over some random girl who didn’t even know his fucking name twenty-four hours ago?

The car ride to your apartment from theirs consists of an extremely awkward fourteen minutes, not that you were counting. Mikasa had sent you another intense glare when you went to sit in the front, practically forcing you to sit in the back and ignored you the whole time, talking over you anytime you tried to respond when Eren spoke to you.

You have to refrain from letting a huge sigh of relief leave you once the car stops in front of your building. Eagerly getting out of the car, you don’t even notice Eren quickly stumbling out of the driver’s seat as he tries to catch up with you.

“Hey! Hey, wait up!” His voice makes you halt your steps, turning around to look at him. “I’m really sorry about you, I don’t think she had a great night last night and-”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, Eren,” You don’t mean to interrupt, but he really doesn’t owe you any sort of explanation.

Slightly frowning he responds, “Well, I know. I, I just had a really, really good time last night, and I didn’t want to end things on a bad note or before I can ask for your number.”

“You could’ve just asked,” A light laugh leaves you at his more detailed than explanation, “I just meant you don’t have to apologize for your friend. Everyone has bad nights sometimes, and having someone throw of your routine can make stuff like that even worse.”

“Oh,” He laughs awkwardly as you hold out your hand for him to give you his phone. He watches with enthusiasm as you punch in your number before calling yourself, so you have his number.

“Text me later! I’d stay and talk more, but I need to go change for class and I think if you stay any longer, Mikasa may just glare a hole in my skull.” You press your lips against his cheek softly before you turn around to enter your building, “See ya later, Eren.”

His whole face is burning up by the time he gets in the car, too engrossed in what just happened to even notice that Mikasa has a deep scowl painting her features.

His phone buzzes, pulling it out he sees it’s a text from you. A fond smile is on his face when he sees it’s a mirror selfie of you in his t-shirt with a half grin on what shows of your face. For my contact photo <3

“Are we going to class or what?” Mikasa grits out with a hateful tone, snapping him out of his trance.

“Oh, right.” He awkwardly coughs out as he starts the twenty minute drive to campus. Very, uncomfortably, awkward twenty minutes.

εїз

Walking out of your sketching class, you’re pleasantly surprised to find Eren standing there waiting for you with, what you assume is, an iced coffee in his hand. Once he notices you, a huge smile appears on his face.

“Hey!” Your face heats as he hands you the drink enthusiastically, “Uh, Hi!” You look between him and the drink with curious eyes, causing him to blush as you take it.

“Oh, right. It’s an iced chai, with oat milk. I had Armin make it, he said you seemed like the type to like chai, but if you don’t like it then I can take you and get you something else.”

Your eyes don’t leave his face as he goes on about how Armin said oat milk was definitely a safe choice, because in case you have a dairy allergy, he firmly believes it superior non-dairy milk. Eren continues rambling for a few minutes about how he has no idea about the differences between almond and oat milk before he finds himself lost in your eyes that seem lost in his.

Smiling, you reach your free hand and grab his own, “I love oat milk. And, I have to agree with Armin, it is the superior non-dairy milk.”

Relief washes over his features as he smiles brightly at you, eyes traveling over you as he takes in your outfit change from this morning. You’ve chosen pink again today, and he can’t deny that it looks great on you, though he wishes you had kept on his shirt instead of going with the pink jeans with the pink corduroy jacket over a cropped white tank top you’ve chosen today.

You clutch your black tote bag closer to you as you sip the drink happily, grinning at Eren as you bite on the straw.

He smiles softly and clears his throat, “Anyway, I had a question for you.”

You quirk a brow, nodding for him to continue, “There’s this old theatre in town, they play lots of older films. They’re playing Rear Window on Friday at 7:30. Last night you mentioned you like older movies, so,” he sticks his hands in his pockets, biting his lip and glancing up at you, green eyes shining.

Your face heats up even more if possible, “Are you asking me out?” You pray his answer is yes.

“I mean, yeah! But, like, only if you want, though,” He’s met with a lip bite as you fight back yet another grin.

Despite wanting to say yes, you feel the slight need to be cautious. “I would love to go see Rear Window with you, but-”

Eren has to fight the frown that begs to take over his features at your words as you continue. “I just got out of a relationship. The only relationship I have ever been in, actually. And, well it wasn’t exactly a great relationship,”

Looking up at him you give him a small smile, “I would love to go out with you Eren, on a date. But do you think we could maybe, I don’t know, just hang out for a little bit? Take things slow?”

Eren tries not to look disappointed, because he does understand and he’s not disappointed, more bummed than anything honestly. But, he’s spent a whole semester pining over you, what’s a little longer?

“Absolutely!” The relief in your eyes makes whatever disappointment that was trying to creep in disappear completely.

Yeah, he absolutely can take things slow. No problem at all, right?

Can you take things slow, though? Probably not.

A comfortable silence develops between the two of you as you leave the fine arts building and head towards the parking lot to the south of it, “Do you want to get lunch with me and my friends tomorrow? I can pick you up around 1?”

Looking at him, you smile and nod, “Yeah, but are you sure no one will mind?”

Neither of you need to say anything to know you’re referring to Mikasa and her behavior towards you this morning. His face falls slightly at the thought of you not wanting to meet or hang out with his friends just because she was acting out of character this morning.

“Of course not!” It rushes out before he can control it. “If you’re worried about Mikasa, she had just had a bad night last night, like I was telling you earlier. It had absolutely nothing to do with you!”

You bite your lip, still unsure as you two come to a stop next to your car. Looking up at him, you sigh internally when you see his green eyes are already staring deeply at you, as if he’s begging you to say yes.

Despite a nagging feeling deep in your stomach, one telling you not to give in, especially so soon, a small voice in your head tells you that this, that he, could be good for you.

A soft smile creeps onto your glossy lips as you nod, telling him you’d be happy to go with him to lunch with his friends.

The smile the breaks out on his face makes all your negative thoughts disappear.

This will be a good thing, worst case, you just don’t click with his friends. He seems to like you plenty well already, and you like to think you’re likeable, surely his friends will, at the very least, get along with you.

#fic: ioblwbbrbig #eren yaeger x reader #eren x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager smut #eren yaeger smut #aot x reader #aot smut #eren jeager x you #eren jaeger fluff #eren yaeger fluff #aot fluff #she's here #*finally lol*#i hope you guys enjoy her!

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princessmisery666 · 3 months

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Just Don't Say You Love Me

Summary: Dean believes you have a good thing going. When you tell him your moving on, he realizes he needs to reassess the relationship and his life before it’s too late.

Warnings/Genres/Troupes: angst, miscommunication, unrequited love, friends with benefits, implied smut, Dean doesn’t get a happy ending.

W/C: 4,776.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Jody Mills, Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Dean x fem!reader (you - no descriptions of body type or ethnicity).

Bingo: @jacklesversebingo Square Filled: Just Please Don’t Say You Love Me by Gabrielle Alpin.

A/N: I tried to fix the angst, but it’s not happening, so the unhappy ending will remain (for now). Special shoutout to @kazsrm67 and @pink-sparkly-witch for helping and offering words/comments of encouragement.

Betas: @deanwinchesterswitch // all mistakes remain my own.

Graphics: made by be on canva. Dividers by @talesmaniac89

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

You knock on Jody’s door, taking a deep breath to calm yourself, some residual adrenaline still playing havoc with your nerves. It’s been a long and insightful day.

Dean opens the door with a smile, but it quickly morphs into an appreciative grin as his eyes travel the length of your body. “Wow,” he says, “who knew all that was hiding under that uniform.”

You laugh, stepping through the door, not in the least bit phased by his comment. It's not the first time you’ve been told that. “Yeah, that uniform is like an invisibility cloak. I put it on, and no man sees me. Guess you're no exception,” you explain, turning to look at him again.

“Well, I see you now,” he says, quickly lifting his focus from your ass to your face. “Um, they’re through there,” he gestures for you to go ahead of him.

“There she is,” Jody says, embracing you with one arm while she places the huge bowl of salad on the table. “How’re you doing?”

“Guess I’m still a little shell-shocked, but I’m okay.”

“Well, we’re all here to help you…adjust,” Sam offers with a kind smile.

Discovering monsters are, in fact, very real and not just a Halloween marketing ploy is definitely going to be an adjustment. But what choice do you have? These people have given you an in. They’ve let you into their secret club, and honestly, you feel privileged that they trust you and think you are capable enough to help.

If you weren’t capable, neither Jody nor Dean would be here right now, a fact Sam keeps thanking you for over dinner.

“Thank you for being so cool about this,” he says again, lifting his beer bottle to clink it against yours.

“I’ll freak out later,” you joke, though you probably will.

“Seriously, you rushed in there, no hesitation, and you held your own,” Jody adds to Sam’s praise. “You certainly proved I picked the right woman for my team.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that,” you say, genuinely grateful for the opportunity to work with her.

You’ve had some awful bosses and equally shitty jobs over the years, so it's nice to have found Sheriff Mills. Okay, so you’ll be fighting real-life monsters occasionally, but what’s a little compromise?

They answer all your questions, and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a little overwhelming. Dean keeps flashing a tight smile in your direction, and you’re not sure if it's meant to be reassuring or if he’s biting his tongue and trying not to be rude. Regardless of his intention, Jody and the boys’ promises to help you come to grips with it all make it seem manageable.

“Am I going to get to hear the story of how you met those two?” you ask Jody in the kitchen later.

“Definitely, but not tonight,” she explains, handing you a clean, soapy plate to rinse and dry.

Dean and Sam laugh in the other room, and Jody smiles wistfully. It’s so sweet and motherly it chokes you up a little.

“The years have not been kind to those boys,” she says, focusing back on the dishes. “They keep their circle small, and I’m grateful that they let me be a part of it, and now you get to join it, too.”

“It’s a damn good-looking circle,” you confess.

Jody chuckles, “Ah, so you noticed Dean as much as he noticed you.”

“Don’t go all matchmaker on me again,” you warn, “do I need to remind you of the disaster that was Paul?”

“No, you do not. I’m just making an observation. The circle is indeed good-looking, and Dean has been doing a lot of observing of his own.”

“Yeah, not sure that’s for the reasons you’re implying,” you say, “Dean doesn’t seem like he wants me to be helping out.”

Dean’s voice startles you, “You saved our asses.” You jump, twisting to look at him, “that’s enough.”

“But if I can do more…”

“The life of a hunter isn’t a life I'd recommend,” he explains, reaching for a beer from the fridge, “ it’s messy and painful and usually ends badly.”

“That’s life in general,” you counter, “and if something is happening and I don’t do anything to help, I’m part of the problem.”

“That’s fine,” he says, throwing his bottle top into the trash. “You’re a bigger part of the problem if you get into a situation you can’t get out of.”

“Dean,” Jody scolds, “take it easy. You said it yourself, she saved our asses today. She’s proven she’s capable.”

“All I’m saying is I’ll help where and if I can,” you explain. “I’m not going to go all Buffy the Vampire Slayer and start patrolling graveyards.”

It’s faint, but a slight quirk tugs his lips, breaking the building tension.

“Besides, I’m sure our uniform makes us invisible to monsters as well as men.”

He laughs properly at that, “Not invisible to me anymore,” his tongue sits behind his teeth, and you're suddenly jealous when he wraps his lips around the bottle.

“Good to know,” you say.

You hold each other’s gaze, perhaps a challenge to see who will shy away first.

“Cool it, you two,” Jody warns, flicking water off the tips of her fingers at you both.

“Sorry, boss,” you laugh. “And on that note, I’m gonna get going.”

“Need a ride?” Dean asks, a smug smirk in play.

“I would love one,” you wink, but follow up with, “but it’s a nice night. Think I’m gonna walk, work off some of that wine.”

“Why don’t you walk her home?” Jody suggests.

Dean nods, “lead the way.”

When you’d balked, telling Dean you didn’t need an escort, he’d countered, saying he needed the fresh air, but you think it’s more to check up on you and maybe flirt a little more without an audience if your instincts are correct. It’s been nothing but small talk since leaving Jody’s until you're standing on your porch facing one another.

“So how are you really taking all this?” he asks.

“I had a little freak out before I got to Jody’s,” you answer honestly, “but truthfully, it makes me feel a little better about the world.”

He huffs a laugh, and his confused frown is adorable. “Okay, that’s a first.”

“There’s so much evil in the world. It’s scary enough without knowing what I know now,” you explain, adding, “Maybe some of the unexplainable evil that’s all over the news is explainable. Maybe it’s not humans being horrible. Maybe it’s actually something evil.”

“Huh, I never thought of it like that.”

“I’m not saying I’ll remember that the next time a vamp is kicking my ass,” you laugh.

“Hey,” he scolds, “you agreed, no hunting.”

You hold your hands up, surrendering. “I won’t go looking for it, but if it comes to Sioux Falls, I’m all over it,” you promise, but your body has other ideas as an overall ache spreads through you as the day's events catch up with you. “Well, maybe in a few days when I’ve recovered from the last one.” Subconsciously, your tongue rolls over the cut on your bottom lip.

“That hurt?” he asks.

“I’ve had worse.” You shrug. The way he’s looking at you dulls the sting of the cut, and the tired ache in your bones shifts and reshapes into a simmering itch that needs scratching.

“You gonna be okay?” he asks, pointing over your shoulder toward your door. The implication of you being alone goes unsaid.

“I’ll be fine,” you say, trying not to roll your eyes. “But maybe you want to come in? Have a coffee or something, distract me a little longer so I don’t freak out too much?”

He smiles, wetting his lips. He knows that’s not what you're asking, and you wonder how often the offer of ‘coffee or something’ has been used successfully on him. He looks down at his shuffling feet, heaving a sigh. “I should get back.”

The hesitation is clear, yet he doesn’t move. A surge of adrenaline spreads through you, and your heart rate increases. When he looks up, catching your eyes, the intensity of the long, loaded pause is enough to make you wonder, if monsters exist, then maybe that electricity everyone talks about is real, too, because it feels like if you touch your hand to Dean’s face, sparks will fly.

“Thanks again for the save today,” he whispers.

“Anytime,” you smile.

You don’t know who moves first, but suddenly you're as one, mouths connected, exploring the other’s, hands groping and gripping, and your lip stings for a split second, but then Dean has you pinned against your door, and you forget about it.

He pulls away and kisses your neck, “Maybe,” he says, scraping his teeth against your jaw, “we should take this inside.”

Your arrangement with Dean works. No pressure, no expectations. Summer comes, and winter fades, but your relationship remains mutually beneficial.

He rolls through Sioux Falls, that charming smile - that you’re not sure he knows quite how charming it is - “passing through,” but he stays a few days. He always claims it’s to catch up with Jody and the girls, but he spends most of his time at your place, and it’s too coincidental that you’re never on shift or scheduled for a few days when Baby pulls up outside.

Jody insists she has nothing to do with it. Yes, she's the sheriff, yes, she’s your boss, and makes the rotas, but “The only thing I swing is that I get to work with you,” she’d promised, winking. And you love her for that. Some of the men are still stuck in the past, and though they don’t say it, you can tell they don’t think women can do the job.

If only they knew. You’ve helped on a few hunts now. There’s no doubt in your mind that your relationship with Dean wouldn’t be what it is if you didn’t know about the real evils of the world. But each hunt ended the same: a dead monster and your body beneath Dean’s.

You're in your room lacing up your little white summer pumps when the Impala’s engine announces his arrival.

You jump to your feet, quickly check yourself in your mirror, smoothing down the already smooth summer dress, and call out, “It’s open,” when his knock echoes around the house.

“Wow, look at you,” he says, freezing partway over the threshold to admire you as you bounce down the stairs.

You deliver your usual greeting, a swift kiss to his lips, and the unmistakable aroma of leather and cheap motel soap assaults your senses - damn, you’ve missed him - but you won’t say it. Instead, you show it, making the kiss deeper.

He shuffles inside, uses your hips to steady himself as he kicks the door closed, and then wraps his arms around your waist to hold you tightly against him.

Your phone rings, and you fumble to find it on the table by the door, but as soon as you do, Dean releases you, kissing your neck and collarbone.

“Hey, hi,” you answer.

“Hey babe,” your best friend sings, and you know it's because she needs something. “Can you grab some ice on your way over?”

“Yeah, sure, okay.”

“You okay?”

No. Yes.

Dean is kneading your breasts, nibbling on the skin that spills out the top of your sundress. “Yeah, just rushing, I’m running late.”

“So late,” he mumbles into your skin.

“Well, hurry more,” she says before hanging up.

“Oh fuck, Dean, you gotta stop,” you whine.

He groans, dulling the sting of his bite with a sweet kiss, and pulls back to look at you. “This a bad time, isn’t it?”

You nod, feeling as disappointed as he looks. “It’s my friend's birthday. She’s having a barbeque.”

He sighs, leaning his head on your shoulder and mumbling into your neck. “Damn it.”

“I have to at least show my face,” you say, using your hands on his cheeks to pull his head up to look into his eyes. “But you can stay here, take a shower, watch a movie or something, and maybe in a couple of hours, I get a headache and need to come home.”

Wetting his lips, he smirks before delivering a brief kiss. “Or,” he draws out the syllable, mild hesitation clear in his eyes, “Maybe I can come with you?”

Since Chuck is no longer an issue, Dean has been making an effort to live in the moment, opening himself up, if only a little. So you try to quell the shock of his suggestion. It quickly evolves to a pleased grin when your mind flashes to your friends' faces when you walk in with the infamous Dean. They will lose their shit. You like spending time with Dean but don’t want to cross any lines or make assumptions. “I’d like that,” you smile, “but you really don’t have to.”

“I’m sure I can survive a couple hours with your friends, and you know I can always eat.”

“Okay,” you nod, smile widening. “If you’re sure.”

He kisses you again, a simple but effective peck on your lips. “But maybe we both get a headache in a couple of hours.”

“Deal,” you agree, sealing it with another casual kiss. “Maybe lose a few layers. It’s summer.”

He laughs, shrugging off his jacket. “I’m sure I have a clean Fed shirt in the trunk.”

“Perfect,” you say, grabbing your bag and keys. “Want me to drive?”

He rolls his eyes, jesting, “Did that kiss fry your brain?” as he follows you out the front door.

He opens the passenger door for you, and before you slip inside, you tell him, “Oh, and whatever my friends say I’ve said about you, it’s all lies.”

He grins smugly, “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The shower has done wonders for your developing hangover. Your friend's barbecue lasted longer than you had anticipated, but the day couldn’t have gone better.

Dean fit in well with everyone and crushed it at beer pong. It was a success all around, and when you’d quietly asked if he wanted to leave, he’d said no, that he was having too much fun.

The fun continued when you got home, and Dean is undoubtedly still feeling the effects as well. It’s almost midday, and he’s still sound asleep in your bed when you enter your bedroom in clean sweats and your bra while you towel dry your hair.

Dean is lying on his stomach, with his face smushed adorably against the pillow he’s hugging, taking advantage of all the space now that you’ve vacated.

You crawl across the bed, leaning over him, and he still doesn’t stir. You put your lips close to his ear and half whisper, “Morning.”

His brow instantly creases, and he squeezes his eyes tighter, groaning, “No, no, you have to go away.”

“You gotta get up. It’s almost midday.”

“Nuh-uh,” he grumbles, eyes still squeezed shut. “You have to take your horrible talking, talky mouth away from me.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” You laugh, sitting back and wringing your hair out so the excess water drips on his naked back.

“Ah,” he groans, arching up off the mattress.

You jump off the bed, laughing as you walk to the mirror to start doing your hair. Turning over, he rubs a hand over his face and then both through his hair, causing it to stick up adorably. He catches you staring in the mirror, and you quickly avert your eyes.

“Damn, your friends can drink,” he says, sitting up against the headboard.

You laugh, that’s an understatement. “They definitely know how to have fun.”

“They seem like a good bunch.”

“They liked you too,” you smile at his reflection, and he grins back. “Laura told me to invite you to her and Chris’ wedding.”

His expression shifts, staring off into the distance for a singular moment as if he’s imagining how that would play out. But as quickly as it appears, it drops when he scrubs a hand down his face to put the mask back on. “That’s cool, but I can’t make that kind of commitment.” He swings his legs off the bed, putting his back to you. “I don’t know where I’ll be.”

You hadn’t expected a solid answer, but the double meaning behind his words settles thick disappointment in your stomach. You’ve never asked for any commitment nor discussed the arrangement between you, but hearing him say it aloud singes the hope you always try to contain.

Dean quickly gets to his feet, swaying at the abruptness. “I’m gonna grab a shower.” He mumbles, avoiding eye contact as he heads to the bathroom.

It’s been less than ten minutes, and you’re sitting at the kitchen table, scrolling through your phone, when he finds the courage to face you again. He’s talking to Sam on his phone, obnoxiously loud, as he descends the stairs, trying to make a point of his hasty need to depart.

He appears in the kitchen doorway, jacket in hand, hair dripping onto the shoulders of his henley. You guess you should be grateful he wasn’t cowardly enough to have just shouted goodbye from the door.

“Listen, I’m sorry about before.” He moves closer to the table, eyeing you as he raps his knuckles on the polished wood. “It’s just that, even with Chuck out of the picture, I’m not sure how things are going to play out. I can’t make any, uh, long-term commitments. Sam and-“

“I get it, Dean.” The last thing you want is any tension between you, so you nip the growing uncomfortableness. “We don’t need to have any awkward conversations.”

He bobs his head, hope swimming in his eyes. “So, we’re good?”

You take your mug to the sink, and once your back is to him, you say, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“You sure?” You didn’t hear him move, but the air shifts behind you, bringing his warmth along with it.

Plastering on a smile, you turn to face him and nod. “Take care of yourself.”

The corner of his mouth curls upward, and he kisses your forehead before heading to the door, “Talk to you soon,” he calls before the door clicks shut.

Fools rush in. Dean is no fool. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel like being one sometimes. Usually, it’s when he’s on the road, heading home from a hunt or supply run, he daydreams about how things could be with you.

The daydream isn’t much different from how things already are. The sex would just be coupled with more official dates – dinner, movies, watching him, which for some reason turns you on, ‘do his thing’ as you call it when he’s hustling suckers at pool. Hell, even grocery shopping. He’d sneak unhealthy snacks into the cart because you promised Sam you’d take care of him, and you would. Dean knows you’d be good to him, that you are good for him. But he’s lived that life. He doesn’t need a wake-up call to know how it ends.

It’s a nice daydream. It gives him a much-needed boost of serotonin when he’s in short supply. But like the gas that fuels Baby, the thought has vaporized by the time he shuts off the engine.

Chuck isn’t calling the shots anymore, but that doesn’t mean the big bads aren’t still gunning for the Winchester's demise. Sam has it all figured out with Eileen, and Dean wishes he could be as sure about what he wants life to look like now. But he can’t be sure of anything, at least not yet. He’s still working on adjusting to a life not consumed by hunting. Trying to come to terms with the fact that there isn’t something lurking around every corner, that the choices he makes – good and bad – are truly his and not fueled by some life-ending curveball Chuck tosses at them.

The doubts bore deeper, and as always, when he’s drowning in his own head, he thinks of you.

He remembers how you busted down the door with borrowed equipment from Sioux Falls. You’d looked frantic but still in control. Your mere presence had calmed him, and not because you were there to rescue him. You didn’t waste a breath with a witty comment like he would have. You let off two shots, dropped the ghoul about to take a chunk out of him, and then untied him.

You’d been cool and calm, checked him for injuries, but didn’t believe he was truly okay till he kissed you breathless. That adrenaline-filled, kiss-swollen lips, slightly frantic edge to your eyes, is the picture he conjures whenever he thinks of you.

It’s been a while since he’s seen you. You’ve exchanged a few calls, but now that his mind is stuck on that picture of you, he has to see you.

He shoots Sam a text, telling him he’ll be in Sioux Falls if Sam needs anything, and then pulls an illegal u-turn to put himself in your direction.

Dean’s not phased that you aren’t home when he shows up. It’s not like he called ahead. He never does. But now that he’s here, he doesn’t want to waste time tracking you down, so he calls.

“Hey,” you greet brightly.

The smile in your voice brings out his. “Hey, yourself. I’m at your door.”

“Shit, sorry, I’m not there.”

He chuckles, “Are you around, or does my timing suck again?”

“No, no, it’s kinda perfect, actually,” you say. “I was gonna call you later anyway. But I need a half hour or so.”

“I can wait.”

“Greasy Sal’s?” you offer.

He smiles, already salivating at the thought of a Greasy Sal’s cheeseburger. “Throw in some curly fries,” he requests.

“Okay, got it,” You laugh.

Dean sits on the Impala’s hood while he waits, head tilted toward the sun, eyes closed while he catches the day’s last rays. The sound of your car’s engine isn’t as distinct as Baby’s, but he knows it well enough that as soon as he hears it, he opens his eyes and watches you turn onto the street. It’s not until that moment that he realizes how eager he is to see you. Maybe Greasy Sal’s can wait; he has another hunger he needs to sate.

He waits till you shut off the engine to open your door, “such a gentleman,” you quip, taking his offered hand to step onto the sidewalk. “Or are you clambering for food?”

“Not what I’m hungry for,” he says, guiding you against your car. He presses himself against you, feeling the coolness of the air conditioning on your clothes. He circles the tip of your nose with his own, whispering, “Hey,” against your lips before claiming them as his own.

Frustratingly, you push a hand into his chest after the first brush of his tongue, and he pulls back to look at you. You're looking up at him from under hooded eyes, and he feels like his heart skips a beat, or maybe he’s just a little out of breath. But he knows that with you gazing up at him like he’s a beautiful sunset, he really has missed you.

“Maybe we should take this inside.”

“Absolutely,” he says, slightly impatient that he can’t get you naked then and there.

He walks to the trunk to get your shopping bags and follows you up the path. He has a bag packed with his essentials but never brings it inside until the next morning. Something about bringing it in before you’ve had sex seems presumptuous, which is crazy because, as per the arrangement, that’s exactly what he’s here for.

“It’s good to see you,” you say, entering your kitchen with him close on your tail.

“Yeah, you too.” He genuinely means it. It’s like things fall into place when he’s around you.

“How’s Sam?”

“He’s good,” Dean explains, placing the grocery bags on the countertop. “He’s taken Eileen away for a couple days.”

“Good for them.”

You unpack the groceries and take a beer from the fridge; as always, it's his favorite brand. Though he never warns you of his pending arrival there is always a supply cooling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks in the cupboards.

He takes the open bottle from you, leaning in to deliver another kiss, but you turn to grab more groceries, and he realizes it's a not-so-stealthy way to give him your cheek.

It seems to be the day of revelations because he’s super aware of how easily you flow around each other in the small kitchen. Dean plates up the burgers, grabbing another beer for you from the fridge, and he’s surprised to see that it’s the only one left. That, coupled with the kiss avoidance, gives him pause. Something’s wrong.

You sit at the table and take a large gulp of the beer. “You okay?” he asks once you’ve swallowed the beer and the nervousness you're exuding. “You seem a little…off.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say, then inhale deeply before adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. We need to talk. And I hate how cliche that sounds, but I don’t know how else to bring it up, and I don’t want to get all emotional on you, but I need to tell you something.”

He feels the panic fizz in his gut. You can’t be pregnant. He's seen you take birth control, and he uses protection every time. So it can only be one thing …you're about to ruin everything.

You're going to utter those three words, and it's going to be the death blow to all the good stuff between you.

He takes a swig of his beer, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Please don’t,” he begs, looking you dead square in the eyes. “What we’ve got going on is good, we’re good…”

“Dean, I …” you try, but he holds a hand up to cut you off.

“Don’t say it.” he pushes his chair back and rubs his hands on his thighs, palms suddenly sweaty. “I like what we have. It works, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to it or that I don’t miss you. But I just got back a little peace of mind and…” he pauses, clearly searching for the right word, “caring about someone…” he shakes his head, reaching to wrap his hand around his beer bottle. “...Loving me, even with Chuck gone, it doesn’t make it any less of a death sentence. So please don’t say it.”

You reach across the table for his hand, clenched around his beer, but he’s quick to pull back. “Dean,” you choke out, the remorse you feel slipping from your eyes in a single tear. “I’ve met someone.”

He stares at you, mouth agape, not sure that he heard you correctly.

“It’s still new,” you continue, rushing to explain as your tears spill. “But it’s going somewhere. Somewhere great, and I don’t want to mess it up.”

Of course, you haven’t been sitting at home waiting for his sporadic visits. You’ve been out living your life as you should be. The possibility of meeting someone else, someone you could say those three words to, and it be a life sentence and not a death sentence, had occurred to him more than once. It poked at him like a swarming gnat, knowing you deserved to find someone better than him, but selfishly, he swatted at it until it went away.

He’s holding his breath and will get light-headed soon if he doesn’t find the ability to breathe again.

“Dean,” you coax, “say something.”

He feels as if you’d blindsided him, come out of the left field, and taken his legs out from under him. Now he’s on his back, the wind knocked out of him, and waiting for the feeling in his limbs to return.

Abruptly he stands. He sees the panic in your eyes and knows what’s coming. As you plead, “Don’t leave,” he says, “I gotta go.”

He strides quickly toward the door. You call his name as he goes, but he doesn’t stop.

He rushes out your front door, leaves it open, and as he reaches Baby, he has a singular moment of wondering what will hurt the least - holding on or letting go.

“Dean, please,” you call from the door.

He slides behind the wheel, deciding to let go.

Part 2 - The Right Guy On Paper.

Tags info

/ @alexxavicry / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deandreamernp / @deanwinchesterswitch / @fandom-princess-forevermore / @foxyjwls007 / @jc-winchester / @justagirlinafandomworld / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @leigh70 / @letsbys-library / @lyarr24 / @mrswhozeewhatsis / @nancymcl / @shanimallina87 / @stoneyggirl2 / @waywardbaby / @wildbornsiren / @writercole / @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior / @pank0w / @kmc1989/ @deans-spinster-witch / @spnbaby-67 / @roseblue373

Master Lists: JAcklesVerseBingo / Dean Winchester / Main

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean winchester #spn #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #reader insert #female reader #dean winchester angst #spn fanfic #angst #spn fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fandom #dean winchester x you #you x dean winchester

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thetriumphantpanda · 11 months

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CHARLIEEEEEEEE my love, my light, my friend congrats on 1k!!!! I am so so happy that we found each other on this godforsaken app, you have become such a good friend and inspiration to me! For your smut sensation, I would humbly request: Joel Miller, squirting, breeding kink AND daddy kink hehe <3

DONI THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH 🧡 If there is one thing I am grateful for on this app, it is you. Thank you for being such a dear friend to me, for listening to ALL of my crazy ideas and generally being my biggest cheerleader. I am so appreciative to have met you. ALSO, THANKS FOR THIS FILTH. I HOPE YOU BLOODY ENJOY IT.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.4k

Warnings | Explicit, 18+ Minors DNI. So, we've got, breeding kink, daddy kink, squirting, dirty talk and Joel Miller being a menace. Also slight implied age gap but age is not specified.

Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration - if you want in, check here for details - I'm accepting requests through July 15th.

There are flurries of snow falling outside, the cold wind whipping them up into a blizzard. It’s cold enough that the windows have started to frost over too. Come the morning, there will be a ton of snow to shovel off the front porch and a frigid wind that will have you praying that those on patrol don’t lose extremities to frostbite. Winter in Jackson could be unforgiving and cold, but right now you’re anything but.

It has nothing to do with the fact that your houses have central heating and everything to do with the fact that Joel Miller has just made you come for the second time that night with just his tongue. It shouldn’t really surprise you anymore. You’ve been with this man for two years since he wandered back into Jackson, Ellie in tow, like two feral cats begging to be domesticated. And domesticate him you did. This man between your thighs worshipped you. Worshipped the ground you walked on. He’d provided for you. Helped build a home with you. Given you happiness you weren’t sure either of you had ever thought you’d have again. There was one thing missing though.

You’d been honest with Joel from the beginnings of your relationship, which began as more of a way for you to both take out your stress and frustration with each other more than anything before developing into something much deeper, that you’d always wanted children. You were never going to be safer than you were in Jackson, it was now or never. At first Joel had been wholeheartedly against it. You hadn’t pushed, not once he’d told you about losing Sarah and the truth about Ellie. But in the past year he’d been warmer, more receptive to the idea. Maybe it had something to do with Ellie pulling away, growing older, or that fact that he too was finally starting to realise that this place was safe, that it could give a growing child almost everything they’d had before the outbreak.

Joel’s fingers are what brings you back to the here and now. They’re sliding through your slick and into your tight heat easily, your back arching off the bed and into the palm of his hand as he curls them upwards in just the right way. The way he knows makes you come undone. He’s working his fingers inside you much like he would with his cock, with an unrelating and pounding pace that tonight, has something unfamiliar building in your belly.

“Fuck, Joel-” You choke out, reaching between your legs to fist at his greying hair, “Don’t- FUCK- don’t stop.”

His mouth is free, Joel knows that if he put his tongue on you now it would be too much, which leaves him free to spew utter filth up at you from between your legs, “Like that, don’t ya’, sweet girl?” He proves his point but thrusting his fingers into you at a slightly new angle, causing you to cry out and arch even further into him, “My sweet girl,” He coos, “You gonna let go for me?”

As it always is with Joel, it’s overwhelming. The need to come, acknowledging it might be too much, thinking that there’s no way he’s actually going to make you come again, then proving time and time again that he can play your body like a damn fiddle and doing it anyway.

“Know you can do it,” He praises, leaning down to press hot kisses to your clit, enough stimulation to feel good and help you towards your high, but not enough that it’s too much for you, “Come for me, come on my sweet girl.”

You’re bearing down into his hand, grinding down to meet the upward thrusts of his hand as you finally let go for him. You feel it almost instantly, the gushing and the pooling of liquid on the sheets, Joel’s chuckle between your thighs, and the level of relief you feel. It had happened once before with Joel, during one of your earlier encounters – just as much of a surprise now as it had been then.

“Well, well,” He groans, “Finally, gotcha to do that again,” his fingers are slipping from your aching cunt, “Beginnin’ to think it was a fluke.”

You can’t speak, only hum in pleasure as he trails wet kissed up your belly, between the valley of your breasts and then up along your jawbone. He settle’s himself between your legs, you can feel the heavy weight of his cock slipping between the slick folds of your pussy as he works himself into position for you, hooking your knees around the backs of your elbow as he leans down to capture your lips with his.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as it licks into your mouth, mixing with your own tongue as he moves and slips his thick cock into you in one movement. Your break from his lips to moan his name, eye opening finally to look at him towering above you. He truly was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. The greying of his hair and beard, the starts of his wrinkles, the scars you could see, and those you couldn’t but knew were there.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me, sweet girl,” He moans, pressing your legs further back to place kisses down your neck, “Always feel so good for me.”

The way he has you folded, practically in half, means that every time he pounds into you, he’s hitting that spot again, you’re so spent at this point you don’t think you have anything else to give him, but there’s nothing more you love than watching Joel come undone for you. On every thrust you’re both groaning and calling each other’s names, you manage to free your arms enough to grip his biceps, leaving crescent moon shapes on his skin where you dig your fingernails into him.

“Not gonna last- fuck, sweet girl.” He whimpers from above you.

Something in your mind snaps. You’ve got your hands on the globes of his ass in no time, pulling him into you, “Joel, please-” You beg, “Come inside me.”

You watch with hooded eyelids as he tilts his head back and slows his thrusts before he looks down at you, dark brown eyes clouded with lust, “You sure you know what you’re askin’ for, sweet girl?” He speaks quietly, voice thick.

“I’m sure Joel,” You whimper, “Wanna make you a daddy.”

“Fuck,” He whispers, “Say it again.” He demands, picking the pace of his thrusts back up.

“Gonna make you a daddy,” You cry out, fingers digging into the skin of his ass, “Give it to me Joel, come inside me.”

He lets your legs unhook from his elbows, only so he can get his lips right by your ears, “Gonna fill my sweet girl up,” He breaths into your ear, “Fuck you like this until you’re round with my baby.”

“Fuck,” You can feel his hips starting to stutter, you know he’s close, “Joel, fuck- daddy - please,” You beg, “Fill me up.”

That’s all it takes for Joel to do just that. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, painting your fluttering walls with his cum for the first time, letting out a strangled cry as he does. He stays buried inside you to the hilt as he catches his breath, kissing at the lobe of your ear before he’s pulling out of you and sitting back on his knees.

His big hands are squeezing gently at your thighs as he’s looking at the mess he’s made of your pussy. There’s a blush spreading across your cheeks at his gaze, “Don’t get all shy on my now, hot mama,” He grins, “You look so good like this, my cum dripping outta ya.”

You tip your head back and giggle, liking how the words ‘hot mama’ sound in his southern drawl, “I could get used to that, you know.” You smirk, reaching your hands out to drag him to the bed next to you so you can snuggle into his side.

“I think I could too,” He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, big palm splaying over your abdomen, “Think I could get used to you swellin’ up here as well.”

“Going to have to fuck me plenty, to make sure,” You drape an arm over his chest, “Hope you can keep up, old man.”

#Joel Miller #joel miller smut #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #The last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fic #tlou smut #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Pedro Pascal #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #PSSC

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jaylver · 6 months

Text

I WANNA BE YOURS — P.SH

synopsis: hiding your secret relationship with sunghoon from your brother, jay, proved to be quite a challenge. that was until you’ve had enough of it, and sunghoon had to prove himself that he wants to be yours.

pairings: non-idol!sunghoon x afab!reader

genre: brother's best friend au, friends to lovers, angst, fluff, romance, humour

warning(s): profanities, slight suggestiveness

wc: 1340

a/n: sorry for the inactivity (currently going insane) !! as promised, here's the hoon drabble, apologies in advance if it's lacking 😭 not my best work imo. will be back after tomorrow since it's my last paper (yay) so please wait for me hehe. as usual, feedbacks and reblogs are much appreciated ! love you all !

This was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Who said it would be a good idea to get involved with your brother's best friend? Nobody. Exactly.

You found yourself somehow being tangled with Park Sunghoon ever since a party your brother and his friends held. He was only two years older than you and you've known him for practically your whole life. Your brother, Park Jong Seong, had known Sunghoon ever since they were kids, so he was definitely far from a stranger.

Coming around your house almost every day, dinners during festivities, holding parties when your parents were out of town, Sunghoon's always there no matter what the occasion was. It didn't help that he was nice to you too. Constantly giving you friendly smiles and acknowledging you when your brother chased you away during their 'bro time', he was a sweetheart.

Eventually, you knew you were in hell once you discovered your teeny tiny crush on Sunghoon was real and existing. To be fair, he was gorgeous, paired with an even prettier personality.

Yet, Jay was there to cockblock you and stop your chances. Look, he's a great brother to you, but he made it clear that you were 'off-limits', whatever that was. You couldn't believe it either.

Being the typical little sister, it was natural to defy your big brother and do exactly what he told you not to. Unbeknownst to him, you've gone behind his back and got with one of them. That explained why Sunghoon being in your room was wrong, especially when he's in your bed.

"Fuck—what about Jay?" You rasped out in between kisses, feeling the touch of his lips travelling down your throat.

Sunghoon groaned, his hands on your waist tightened momentarily. "He's not going to know I'm in here. I snuck in from your window anyway,"

"He can suddenly barge in,"

"You have your doors locked,"

Those words might seem nonchalant, but it was more than what it meant.

The times he's spent in your room, knowing each and every part of it, the crevices of your sheets to the feeling of your skin on his. It wasn't just something simple. Neither was the fact of your door always being locked.

"I–I don't know," you suddenly turned uncertain, pushing yourself up and having him stop.

"Hm? Are you okay? Something's up?" His face morphed into a look of concern, worried at your abrupt change in emotions.

"It's just—" you sighed, not knowing how to approach it, "I wish we could be honest to Jong. I don't want to sneak around anymore, Hoon, it almost feels like you want to keep me a secret,"

"I don't, Y/N, I would never want that," he ran a hand through his hair, proceeding to take yours in his. "I want to be with you, hell, I want to tell everyone that. I wanna be yours,"

"But? What even are we?"

Right, you got to the question that everyone feared.

"Your brother. I don't know when I can do it,"

Frustration etched deeper into your face. "Hoon, if you don't know when you'll do it, then maybe, maybe, you just don't want me like that, or that you're scared to admit your actual feelings and continue to toy me around,"

"No—"

"Goodnight, Sunghoon."

You turned over onto your side, frowning deeply. It was time for him to set his shit right, and he was going to have to figure it out himself.

The next few times you saw Sunghoon after that night was when he came over to hang out with your brother. He has been texting you, to which you reciprocated dryly. He even got you flowers, your favourite snacks and even waited for you outside your bedroom door, but all of that wasn't enough for you to forgive him.

Why couldn't he just tell Jay the truth? If it was you, you would've already said it, but since Sunghoon was reluctant, you didn't. This was frustrating.

What's more frustrating was having Sunghoon seated next to you at the dinner table during dinner. You could feel him casting glances at you, nervousness emitting from his body quite obviously.

You were acting nonchalant, almost too nonchalant that it even had Jay casting glances between you and his jittery best friend. However, he said nothing.

"Hoon, pass the salad to Y/N," your brother said from Sunghoon's side, nudging him. You glanced up at the mention of your name, meeting Sunghoon's slightly widened eyes and confused stare.

"I—uh—here," he took the bowl and passed it to you, chewing the insides of his mouth.

How could you be mad at him when he looked like that? Sunghoon's starry eyes that never failed to soften your heart, the moles that decorated his face which you've traced in the night when he was asleep, he was your Sunghoon, or so you thought.

"Thanks," you said softly, offering a smile that he warmly reciprocated.

As you took the bowl from him, you felt the feather-like touch of his fingers grazing against yours, sending electricity up your senses. You locked eyes with him again, this time an equal want and pining evident in both your gazes.

He was the first to cough and retreat his hold on the bowl. You were snapped out of your momentary daze and also let out an awkward cough, scooping the salad into your bowl to shake off the feeling he gave you just now.

Once dinner was over, you took the very first chance to escape back upstairs, heart beating quicker the way up, and there was probably a reason for your anxiety. Sunghoon.

"Y/N," almost as fast as he had popped into your mind, he appeared behind you, probably followed you up. He got a hold of your wrist, stopping you in your tracks and you turned around, mouth slightly agape. "I figured we should … talk,"

You took in his words, nodding slowly. "We should,"

"I'm sorry," he said without any hesitation, a hint of desperation laced in both his gaze and voice. "I was wrong for not putting a label on our relationship, I should've treated you better, you're everything to me. My heart wouldn't stop beating whenever I see you, you've completely bewitched me, you've drove me insane,"

Sunghoon heaved in a breath, stepping closer. "Secrets I've held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. I told everything to Jay,"

"You—what?"

"I did. I realised what you said was right and I told him. He's cool with it, Y/N," Sunghoon smiled, and it was the same smile he only had whenever he's around you.

"Really?"

"Really," he intertwined your fingers with his, pulling you close. "I wanna be yours, Y/N. You have my deep devotion, always,"

"Gosh, I want you to be mine—need you. I like you, a lot, like crazy a lot. I wanna be yours too,"

"You genuinely drive me insane," he leaned in close, the tip of his nose brushing against yours, his lips edging closer. "Tell me if I can kiss you, pretty girl,"

He's kissed you many times, but this round, it hits differently. "You can,"

It didn't take Sunghoon another second before crashing his lips onto yours. He was pouring his pent up frustration, angst, desperation, and love into his kiss, almost kissing you as if there was no tomorrow.

As things escalated, you pushed him into your room, letting him spend the night where he smoothly asked you to be his girlfriend, which you agreed to, duh.

All was well between you and Sunghoon. You even got together and started planning out dates. It was meant to be.

On the other hand, Jay spent the night with music blasting in his ears. He had already suspected something between you and his best friend, but to find out it had been happening for months? It was shocking. But, he wasn't opposed to it.

He just has to make sure to close his eyes whenever you two are around together. Couples, ew.

☆ permanent taglist (open):

@silentkarnival @strvlveera @freshsaladbowl @bejewelledgirl @fakeuwus @yenqa @hsgwrld @ilovegyuvin @enhacatalog @aishigrey

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pxrxcxa · 2 years

Text

Untouchable

✶ One shot

Pairing | Eddie x his best friends little sister

Post summary | You’ve been in love with Eddie since you can remember. When he refuses to see you as anything except for his best friends, untouchable, innocent, little sister, you work out a way to get him to look at you differently.

What to expect | Established friendship, mutual pining, jealous Eddie, lots of tension - no use of y/n

Post Warnings | Drug use, shotgunning, M oral, F masturbation, voyeurism, facial, public sex, rough sex

Word count | 5.3 K

Authors Note | I’d really like to do a part 2 | but let me know what y’all think about this one first ;)

Pt 2 | Pt 3 |

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Love, P. x 🌿

I’d always seen Eddie. Considering he’d been joined at the hip with Trevor since middle school when he’d made fun of Eddie’s buzz cut. The two were inseparable, always up to no good. If you seen one you knew the other wasn’t far. Since Trevor and I shared DNA, Eddie was around just as much as I was, taking up a segment of our life and blending in seamlessly like he belonged there.

Ten years I’d catch the bus home with Eddie and my older brother, avoiding their teasing while they spread across the entire lounge room floor as they devoured the pantry of snacks and planned out their DnD campaigns. Ten years I’d been the butt of their cruel jokes. Ten years I’d been silently in love with Eddie.

And for ten years, Eddie had ignored me like I was invisible. Eddie had never seen me.

I glanced up from my book as a piece of popcorn bounced off my chest and landed on the open page, covering the rest of the line I was currently reading.

“Do you mind?” I snapped through gritted teeth, brushing my shirt as I glared up through my lashes.

“Not at all. Get us another drink.” My brother rolled over on his back as he grinned at me, holding a crumpled piece of paper above his face that contained a list of his new ideas for DnD characters.

Eddie’s singular laugh burst onto the scene, and I reluctantly glanced up at him, dropping my stare almost instantly as a deep blush filled my cheeks. He smirked at me as he popped another piece of popcorn into his mouth, watching me as I slammed the book shut and stood up from the couch.

“Get it your damn self.” I snapped, purposely treading on my brothers arm as I stepped over him.

Eddie’s stare, hard to ignore, followed me as I made my way to the kitchen. The water churned angrily inside of the glass as I flicked the sink tap on angrily and filled it to the brim. As I spun around the drink almost slipped through my fingers, Eddie was leaning in the doorway, his arms crossed tightly across his chest as his dark eyes appraised me.

“You good kid?” My heart sunk into my ass at his words.

Kid

“I’m fine.” My misplaced frustration seeped through my tone, Eddie’s brows raised slightly at my rudeness before Trevor burst through through door, shoving him out of the way and breaking our eye contact.

“Ignore her man, she’s been in a mood ever since she started dating that freshman.” My fingers tightened around the slippery glass as my eyes shot to Eddie’s face, my own colouring in embarrassment as his features turned guarded, hiding his reaction as he picked at his cuticles.

I snatched the bag of chips off the counter that my brother reached for, glaring daggers at him, interrupting Eddie as we spoke at the same time.

“Oh yeah?”

“He’s not my boyfriend.”

I cleared my throat as they both shared a look followed by loud, teasing bouts of laughter.

“He’s not, he’s just my partner on one of our assignments. And-“ I spoke louder as Trevor wagged his brows suggestively at me and Eddie covered his smirk with his hand.

“He’s actually pretty cool, I think you’d like him, he’s into DnD.” I let my bait hang in the air as I dumped the rest of the contents of my glass down the sink, letting it clack against the sides loudly.

I turned back slowly to watch Trevor let a low, appreciative whistle through his teeth, his mind ticking over my words as I watched Eddie closely. He was far too focused on a hangnail as his jaw clenched, sucking against his teeth.

“What d’ya think bro?” Trevor’s voice was pathetically whiny, pining for Eddie’s approval without shame.

Although his slightly annoyed face betrayed his words, Eddie shrugged, dropping his arms to cross his chest as he stared me down, running his gaze slowly over me as I shuddered, chancing a quick glance at my brother to see if he noticed.

“If she says the kids alright, we can give him a go. She has incredible taste after all.”

Eddie’s lips drew out the S in the third last word, making my thighs twitch behind my loose mini skirt as he smirked at my brother, who was blissfully unaware of my dangerous thoughts as he sneakily snatched the bag of snacks from my trembling fingers.

“If he’s anything like her, he’s super fucking innocent. And I know how you love to corrupt your innocent freshman with DnD.” My brothers half hearted wink didn’t even begin to convey the truth behind his words, their possible different meaning to Eddie had my head swimming dangerously, the sea of blackness lapping at my concentration.

“I don’t agree on a lot of things with you bro, but when it comes to that type of innocence… I can’t resist absolute corruption.” Eddie’s dark eyes fixated on me as his wide smile crinkled his eyes. I was greatful for the loud crunching as Trevor tipped the bag of food back against his mouth, tilting his head back as he shook the bag, because I was sure that actual steam was blowing out of my ears and a slight dripping was falling from between my thighs.

“Come on, let’s head out.” Trevor’s spat through an open mouth full of food as he tossed the packet into the bin and walked between us, cutting off my eyeline of Eddie as he smacked his chest and swiped up his car keys. I swallowed my disgust over my brothers general lack of hygiene as he disappeared around the corner, rolling my eyes as I turned my back on both of their vulgar insults over who was driving.

The warning tingle that shot up my spine, made me spin back around as I bumped back against the sink, watching Eddie lean away from the door frame to cross the tiled kitchen floor between us in three long strides.

His eyes flickered to the darkened hallway like he was making sure that my brother was still out of sight as he stood toe to toe with me, our embarrassing height difference towered over me as his face broke into a cocky half grin.

My breathing faltered as his hand raised towards me, gently brushing against my thin sweater in the space between my breast and my collar bone. My heart squeezed painfully as his grin faded off into a small, knowing smile as I began to tremble.

“Popcorn.” His scoff contained a light airy laugh as he glanced above my head and brushed away the few crumbs that clung the static fabric of my shirt.

My chest throbbed in a painful release as Eddie stalked away, shrugging on his leather jacket as my knees struggled to keep me upright.

Asshole

I ran my tongue across my lips as I tried to keep my thoughts in check, squishing down the vain fantasy of hope that reared it’s ugly head, focusing on the ticking hands of the clock above the kitchen cabinets.

Eddie’s small touches meant nothing, his lingering stares only felt heavy and intrusive because I was imagining it. Eddie was only ever going to be an elderly brother figure to me and I needed to learn to accept that. Giving myself a reality check to save myself from further heart break.

I swallowed the rock that sat at the back of my throat as my vision came into focus again.

“Hey! Where are you going? Moms gonna be here with dinner soon.” I chased after the boys as they hesitated at the front door, staring back at me with frustration as I hindered their nightly pursuits.

“The hideout.” Trevor shook his head at me like I was stupid for even asking, widening his eyes sarcastically as he pulled the door wider.

Eddie stared at me with a blank expression, either trying very hard to control his reaction or just genuinely not having one as he rolled a loose ring across the tops of his knuckles.

“Ed’s here has a blonde hottie waiting for him.” My brother smacked his chest with his fist lightly, following up his hurtful statement with a string of obscene noises and hip movements.

I tried and failed to keep my face straight as my heart smashed into my stomach, twisting and splintering like broken glass as Eddie didn’t spare me another glance, following Trevor down the scarcely lit driveway.

His car tore off into the empty street as they sped away to whatever pleasures awaited them at the dingy bar, leaving me alone and heartbroken as I let the front door swing closed slowly.

“I think it’s a good idea.” I let the stream of smoke billow through my nose as I flicked the ash away from the tip of my joint, leaning back against the red brick of the gym, hidden by other nosy students and prying teachers alike.

Sean, the infamous genius freshman that was taking senior classes, liked playing DnD and was my alleged boyfriend, watched me from his place beside me, his beady eyes following my every movement as he tried to mimic my stance.

I held out the joint in an offering, raising my eye brows as he hesitated and then shook his head, glancing up at me from the few inch height difference between us.

“I’ve got a test, probably be better if I was sober.” His dorky face screwed up and I turned away to hide my laughter, watching the sophomore gym class run their tenth, hellish lap around the field.

I nodded without looking as he muttered a goodbye, taking a deep drag as my eyes squinted shut. The air rushed through my teeth as a heavy ‘umph’ resounded through the air as his sharp cry echoed around us.

Sean was scrawled across the concrete, fresh tears springing to his eyes from the raw scrape marks across his palms and knees. Eddie stepped from around the corner and roughly hauled him to his feet, practically beating him into the ground as he wiped grey clouds of dirt from his shoulders.

“Better be more careful there kid.” Eddie clicked his teeth as my arm dropped, nerves fluttering in my stomach as I hid the joint against my side.

It was no use, the smell had probably drawn him out in the first place.

My eyes flickered between the vastly different boys, Eddie’s dark and hulking form, with a mean smirk plastered across his face, towered over Seans’ quivering one. A shock ran through me as I watched the unmistakable signs of fear flash across the younger man’s face, he nodded and tried not to let Eddie’s strength make his knees buckle as he continued to swipe at Sean’s arms, angrily brushing away dirt that was no longer there.

He shot me a frightened look as I couldn’t help the slight amusement spread across my face, my inhibitions locked away from the spike of weed I’d inhaled, I successfully bit back my laugh as I realised he was afraid of Eddie. Sometimes it was hard to remember what the rest of the world saw him as, because Eddie had my knees shaking and my face blushing for entirely different reasons.

Sensing no help from me, Sean tried to side step around Eddie as his eyes fell to his Hellfire shirt under his leather jacket, trembling like a mouse as Eddie blocked him.

“Not so fast, kid. Who are you?” Eddie’s menacing smile slowly dropped from his face as he cocked his head, loosing patience as Sean stuttered over his own name.

I scoffed and pushed off from the wall, turning to face him with my own smug smirk as I shook my head at Eddie’s antics.

“This is the one I told you and Trevor about. This is Sean.” His eyes squeezed shut like he was upset about me naming him, like he’d hoped he could remain unnoticed as long as he stayed silent.

Eddie had ignored me thus far, but his dark stare slid past Sean’s to meet mine over his head, something flashing in his eyes as they softened and his jaw hardened.

“Right.” He stood to the side and clapped his shoulder, making him half bow over as his face screwed up in pain. “Well, maybe I’ll see you at our club sometime, I’ll take good care of ya.” Eddie winked and slapped him on the back again, half propelling him down the footpath and almost out of my sight.

The brittle tension disappeared along with Sean as Eddie turned back to me, pulling a cigarette from his jacket pocket, placing it between his teeth as he flicked his lighter and shook his head at me over the billowing smoke.

I grinned freely as I purposely took a long hit of my dwindling joint, staring back at him boldly as I blew the cloud of haze in his direction.

We puffed in a silence for a moment before I took too deep of a hit and coughed hard, my chest spluttering as my eyes watered.

He clicked tongue as he pursed his lips, barking a sharp snap of laughter as I waved the smoke away that burst through my lungs.

“Exactly why you shouldn’t smoke.” He grinned through his hypocrisy.

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re not the one who taught me this.” I held it out between us accusingly, relishing in the easy smiles shared between us. My heart clenched unexpectedly as I wished for it to always be this easy, that our friendship didn’t have to be blackened by my unrequited feelings, obsession was probably a better word.

His own face turned serious as we both lost our grins, exhaling through his teeth as a deep sigh rushed from his chest. His eyes, practically black in the shadows, had me cowering against the wall as he glared at me.

“You should stay away from him.” His words were a fire hot, ice pick through my skin as I tried to read their meaning in his face. He kept his usual half snarky half empty mask in place, I took a distracted drag for something to do other than get lost in my thoughts of looking at him.

“Sean? He’s harmless.” I peered back at Eddie questioningly, blushing as he scoffed and sent me a derivative scowl.

“He’s a guy.”

“And?”

“And I know what guys want.” He flicked the butt of his smoke away as he spun around to face me, burying his hands in his pockets as he waited for me to catch onto his meaning.

I wasn’t sure what made me say it, or how I possibly got the words out without caving like the embarrassed coward I was.

“What do you want?”

Eddie’s face flashed with something new, he only hesitated for a minute as his eyes dropped to something beside me and he stalked across the space between us. I backed off quickly, bumping against the rough brick as he pinned me against it.

I trembled as Eddie hand snaked around my throat, his thumb pressing into my jaw so that my head was tilted back and I couldn’t avoid his dark eyes that trapped mine. I couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past my lips, Eddie’s eyes dropped to them, intrigued by the sound. My throat stuck as my thoughts ran wild, wanting to cry from the confusion and pleasure of feeling Eddie’s hand finally somehow wrapped around me.

My hands clenched around empty air as Eddie stole the joint from between my fingers, he brought it between us, turning his head to the side, but keeping his eyes on mine as he took a deep inhale. The paper burned all the way down to the roach in a blaze, ash dropping dangerously as he flicked it away and tensed his fingers around the nape of my neck.

His strong hand bowed me against him as his thumb moved up against my chin, pulling it down roughly as he forced my lips apart.

I shook like a leaf as Eddie moved his face towards mine, with slow movements like a predator. He angled his jaw to line up with me, leaving barely any space between our open mouths as he blew the smoke into mine. My eyes rolled back into my head as I caved, I could practically taste him, almost feel the softness of his lips as my knees buckled, Eddie’s tight grip became the only thing holding me up. His forehead leant forward to touch mine as he breathed the last swirl of the smoke into me, snapping his eyes shut as his jaw flexed.

“You’re Trevor’s sister.” It was a fact he grunted through clenched teeth.

“I am.” My hands traced up carefully to hold onto the arm he still had wrapped around my neck.

“Untouchable.” I didn’t agree.

“So fucking innocent.” Eddie’s practically spat the words as his eyes wrenched open in anger and he dropped his hold on me, slamming his fist down against the raw brick beside me as he spurned away, the outline of the Dio patch on his jacket growing smaller as he left me alone gasping against the side of the building.

Tears sprung to my eyes over his insult of being innocent, wanting to follow him and prove in every single way how wrong he was, hating him for even thinking it. But I was paralysed, sliding down the wall into a crouch, wondering what the fuck that was and if it actually just happened.

Stupid

That’s what this was, pure idiocy. I fumed with anger towards Eddie’s juvenile opinion of me, and hated Trevor even more for probably being the reason behind it.

I wanted to punish them both, get back at them in a way that would at least match, if not top, the anguish and hurt I was feeling.

Trashing their beloved Hellfire room was the best thing I could think off, though that might have been taking things too far and definitely wasn’t going to help my immature image. My false confidence spurred on by misplaced frustration, faltered as I stood beside the wooden table top in the drama room, tracing my fingers along the edge as I made my way to the throne at the end of it.

I clasped the backing of it, pretending that it was his shoulders I was holding as I pictured myself standing by his side while he was in his element. Imagining how good I would look perched on his lap while he mounted his throne. He could shotgun me again, have his way with me and do whatever he wanted to me on this table.

I twisted my fingers in anger, wishing to high heaven that Eddie could see me for what I actually was, torturing myself as I fantasised about Trevor being okay with the idea of the two of us, and that he wouldn’t stand in our way.

I snorted mockingly at myself as I let my hand drop, shaking my head because all of that didn’t matter unless Eddie liked me back, and he definitely didn’t.

Whatever happened between us this afternoon didn’t wipe away the past ten years of him treating me like an extension of Trevor, just an extra sibling to pick on when he wasn’t rising to Eddie’s teasing.

I pulled my bag tighter against my shoulders as I headed for the door, but I froze as loud bangs and shouts of boyish laughter echoed down the hallway.

Shit.

They were early, and even though I’d left the room exactly as I’d found it, Trevor would dip it if he found me in here. ‘Ruining his safe space and invading his territory’ as he’d called it.

I backed off, my head swinging wildly as I glanced around for some form of escape. It was too late, their heavy footsteps thundered towards the door as I dived under the table, my skirt brushing my sneakers as I huddled on my knees to the middle off it, praying that I was hidden.

My stomach shrunk as my name fell from my brothers lips, shaking as I waited for him to expose my position and embarrass me in front of their entire club. But it was followed by a laugh and the sound of flesh smacking flesh. A familiar pair of glasses tumbled to the floor and I had to bite back a whimper as Sean’s arm shot down to grab them, mere feet from where I was crouched.

“Yeah she’s my sister, she told us about you and I figured we needed some new players.” I could practically hear his chest puffing out as he tried to impress that he was important. Six chairs scraped against the floor as they pulled back and the knees of Eddie’s club scooted in closer to me, pressing in on all sides as I stopped breathing.

Laughter filled the small room and the the table top shivered as someone slammed their hands down on it, sending specks of dirt and dust to flutter onto my hair. Sweat built up between my thighs pressed against my calves as the panic set in, the boys were reaching into their bags, pulling out game equipment as they set up for one of their campaigns.

I was going to be here for hours.

The main door swung open again, and I watched the beaten, once white, Reebok sneakers make their way towards the end of the table where I sat. The largest chair that Eddie deemed as his “throne”, scraped back louder than the others as he folded himself into it. My face blazed hot as he man spread, widening his knees until his crotch, level with my face, was agonisingly obvious like it had its own beacon.

I wanted to slap myself for the perverted thoughts that filled my mind, that made my panties dampen between my thighs and my arms shake.

Fucking Jesus

Eddie rolled his hips towards me as he readjusted himself, his ring clad hand resting lighting on his knee as his finger traced slight circles along the fabric. My brother voice shot out on my left, reminding me where I was as I learned away from someone’s outstretched leg.

“Where were you?”

“Just seshing.” If I hadn’t of known him so well, I would have missed the slight grin in his tone, like he knew a secret the rest of them didn’t. My eyes travelled over his shaking knee as his hand flexed, wondering if he was talking about me. I’d come straight here after he’d left me outside of the gym, surely he had aswell?

“Anyone hot?” Gross

“Smoking. But not your type.” Eddie’s hand splayed against his thigh, running up the length of it as my middle clenched at the sight and his words sent my mind blank.

“Looks like everyone’s loved up Eds. Even little Sean here has a thing for my sister.” I wanted to punch Trevor, maybe kick him hard under the table under the pretence of someone else, except then someone might look under the table and I couldn’t imagine a worse situation to be caught in.

Eddie’s knuckles turned white as his hand clenched into a first, he voice was loaded with so much threat I was surprised that Sean didn’t run from the room.

“We already discussed this.” He tsked, his shirt riding up his stomach a little as he leant forward over the table.

“She’s too innocent to have a boyfriend.” His voice was low and thick, and the loud bout of laughter it earned from the table made my dig my nails into my palm, hating him more than ever in that moment.

Trevors laughed lasted the longest, brushing off Eddie’s threat as over bearing brotherly love as he pulled out the set up for their game and began.

Enough was enough.

Time to show Eddie how innocent I actually was.

As the entire table erupted in a vicarious debate over their campaign, and Eddie’s voice rang out louder than any of them, I crawled across the floor, leaning forward on my hands and shuffling on my knees as I avoided the mass of sneakers and made my way between Eddie’s legs.

He was still hunched over, blocking the light from shining down on me as I flattened myself on my thighs, my middle pressing against the cold floor as I straddled nothing.

I waited for another loud stream of laughter and raucous banging on the table to press my hands against Eddie’s knees.

He jolted and shot back in his chair from my touch, his little breath of Fuck was drowned out by someone yelling out over being attacked in the game.

His eyes met mine in disbelief as his brows knotted and he gave his head a little shake, I traced my nails across his jeans, moving up his thighs as he ran his tongue across his lips, his dark eyes becoming heavily lidded as they glanced around the table.

A burning within me trickled out across my skin as I explored more of Eddie, running my hands across his lap as I watched his bulge start to strain against his tight jeans, dancing under the hem of his shirt until my fingers brushed his cool belt buckle.

“Eddie!” His eyes tore away from mine as I pulled at his belt, pulling it through the metal clasp, marvelling that he wasn’t stopping me. He was powerless under my touch now, I was going to make him pay for what he’d said, and if he snitched on me now he would be as incriminated as I was. I grinned as I slipped the leather free of his pants.

“Huh? Oh, you’re faced with a fork in the trail, to your left is a darkened path, scarcely lit with a green glow at the end. To your right lays a steep climb with a golden slight blazing at the top. Which do you choose?”

Eddie’s hands shot down to slap mine out of the way, quickly ripping his zipper down to allow me faster access, his free hand moved to twist into my hair as he glanced down with a smirk on his face, gently guiding me towards his crotch as his club cried out in misery that they’d chosen the wrong path.

His tight hold against my head sent a thrill of warm honey down my spine, tingling deep in my pussy as I leant forward, running my tongue along my lips with a smile as I pulled him free from his jeans.

His pretty cock fell over the dark fabric, filling the space between us as I reached for it eagerly. Finally, after years of obsession and fantasies, I finally had thick length red and hard in my hand, twitching as it waited for me. My mouth salivated at the thought as Eddie’s hand pushed harder against the back of my head, begging for me.

It was all the prompting I needed as I leant forward on my knees, my round eyes staring up at his jaw line though my thick lashes, his flaring stare met mine as he chanced a quick look down, his cheeks reddening as he watched me wrap my hand around his base.

He shuddered a little beneath my touch, a drop of liquid trickled from the tip of his dick, and I caught it with my finger to bring to my lips curiously, I let it drop onto the tip of my tongue, the salty taste surprising me. I smirked and looked up to find Eddies eyes trained on my face, watching me warily. A sudden urge came over me, I leant further on my knees, needing to touch more of him, my head brushed hard against the underneath of tabletop, cringing as someone banged on it again. Eddie leant forward to hide me from view as I pressed soft kisses to his v-line, next to his dick, nibbling lightly at the skin as he gasped and jolted in my grip. Looking up at him I let the wetness from my mouth dribble onto his crotch, the liquid flowing down my arm as I stroked him back and forth, never leaving his gaze I slowly brought my lips to his tip. Listening to his uneven breath I let it slide back and forth across my bottom lip before I slid his entire length down my throat.

Eddie’s first clenched above the table as he raised his voice, trying to down out the stifled gags and wet squelches his cock was fucking into my throat.

“I- uh… you’re all down to fourteen hit points, what do you do?” His voice was thick with resistance as I wrapped my lips around his base and slowly dragged up, digging my nails into his knees.

His stare sent a blazing heat through me, the half fucked out look on his face as he glanced down like he couldn’t believe it, it filled me with the surety that I could do this. Splaying my free hand across his abdomen, trailing my sharp fingers across his skin softly, I began stroking him at a constant pace, quickly wrapping my lips around his dick once more and matching the strokes, gagging every once in a while when there was a yell or laugh loud enough to cover it. I shoved my head down until I reached the base where a light brown tuft of pubic hair tickled my forehead, with each bob of my head I swirled my tongue around him, feeling the ridges of the pulsing veins of his cock. His hands knotted themselves in my hair, sending throbs of pleasure throughout my frame, a pooling wetness gathering in my panties. My free hand moved under my skirt, slipping under my thin lacy material to rub fast and rough circles over my clit, picturing it was Eddie’s ring clad fingers as I stared up at his neck, his head thrown back as I listened to the dice roll across the table top and the entire group break into winning cheers. We both took advantage over the thundering, deafening cheers of success as Eddie fucked my face and my own fingers spurned my towards my hot release, as I felt him falter and curl over the table again, I pulled him free from my mouth, replacing it with my hand as I jerked him in long, hard strokes and hung my head back, my tongue pressing against my chin as I waited.

His muted gasps and moans were overpowered by the others congratulations at each other for their defeat, he untangled his hand from my hair as he wrapped his long fingers around my throat, tilting my head back as I took the tip of him into my warm mouth, his salty cum washed over my tongue as more than I thought was possible, shot across my face, streaks of it painted my cheeks and warmed my skin as it dropped across my chin.

Heat flowed between us as his chest heaved and he wiped the corner of my mouth, pressing his thumb into it until my eyes rolled back and the taste of him was dripping down the back of my throat, he brought his hand to his face and sucked on his thumb infront of everyone above us, licking the mixture of his cum and my spit clean from it as he watched me under the table.

“You know what Sean, if you want to date Trevor’s sister, be our guest. Maybe she isn’t as innocent as I thought.”

Eddie glanced down at me through heavy lashes as his face flushed in a fucked out expression, staring at me like he was finally seeing me for the very first time.

Part Two

Also readers - if anyone’s looking for a slow burn Eddie x enemies to lovers, check out my Opposite Ends series (almost completed)

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notroosterbradshaw · 2 years

Text

The Boyfriend Experience - Part 2 /2

7k words of Rooster being your super wonderful, pretend plus one! A few swears, but it’s the Navy, goddammit! The fluffiness should make up for it.

The Boyfriend Experience 1 / 2

“Thank God you didn’t catch the bouquet,” Rooster rolled his eyes as you wandered back, bored. "Could you look any less interested?" he bit back a smile.

“I could, yes," you told him, patting his cheek with a gentle thwack as he chuckled.

”Well, you made sure I didn't have a run there to fake propose in front of all these witnesses. Left my fake engagement ring in my dresser drawer back at base,” he snapped his fingers. "Fuck."

"You'd have really ruined this wedding if you proposed. Even you must know the lack of decorum of proposing at someone else's wedding. You probably wouldn't need to go to those extremes," you laughed quietly.

He nodded and grinned. "I'd guarantee you a life of no more wedding BS though."

"You're probably right. How long you been sitting on that?”

"Just came to me," he admitted. "But you can't tell me it's not an amazing idea to get everyone off your ass."

"Thank you for not going to those lengths," you said as his head fell back and he kept giggling. Yes, Rooster was a giggler after a few drinks. And it was adorable.

Looking back at you, he said, "I guess we're almost done though. Since I have this," Rooster grinned widely, flinging the bride’s baby blue garter at your face. You flicked it right back and he caught it easily. He'd mortified you that he'd made such a spectacle to get his mitts on it earlier in the evening - he literally speared a dude to get to the front and leapt over the Best Man to catch it. "My Little League coach would be so proud today."

"You're the worst," you reached for his whiskey as he looked on proudly.

"You disappointed us as a couple and missed the bouquet to boot but I forgive you because you've graduated to a very sexy drink. That's my girl," he raised his eyebrow, waiting patiently for your sip, which you did gladly.

"You're such a dick," you could only respond, handing the glass back as he chuckled, putting the garter back in his breast pocket, patting it safely.

"Taken you 30 years to figure it out - that's more on you than me though," he teased.

"Last song of the night, friends," the MC of the band announced as Rooster offered you his hand. "Your bride and groom are ready to kick into matrimonial bliss part of the night and we all have to head home at some point!"

"You're not getting out of this. It's our last dance as fake lovers," he said, giving you the creepiest bedroom eyes, or you supposed, that you’d ever seen. How had he managed to bed so many women if that was his game, you'd never know (you assumed it was probably a lot less effort than batting his lashes, to be completely honest), and you shook your head with a smile. He stood to his full height and offered you his calloused palm. You naturally accepted, lacing your fingers through his. You loved the warmth his hands gave yours.

"Can you never say 'lovers' again?" you asked, spirited, as he spun you under his arm, leading you to the dancefloor, laughing loudly.

"Never," he promised as the song began. The band started Elvis' "I'm All Shook Up", most people in the room made their way to the dancefloor and Rooster praised the gods. You liked the song but loved the joy it clearly stirred in Rooster more. You adored how much he loved music, though he admitted he was never taught piano, guitar, or even drums but was pretty good at each of them, or he liked to think so. He played by ear and enjoyed experimenting with sounds. You'd romanticised Rooster playing at home in the quiet, just for himself, tinkering with keys, strumming strings. It made you kind of weak to think of him creatively like that. He was certainly full of surprises and you were yearning to know more.

He was unlike anyone you knew - you'd learned so much tonight and appreciated the human he was more than just the talented pilot most assumed of him, you thought maybe he appreciated people thought he was fairly one-dimensional, he liked his space and privacy. "New one to learn for the bar?" you offered as he pondered the question.

"Shit, maybe," he contemplated with a nod and he pulled you close. While not an incredibly slow song, Rooster actually moved quite well. Yet another thing you had learned about him tonight and he pulled your back to his chest, keeping you pressed to him, his hands spreading across your belly, keeping a respectful amount of space between your bodies. He took your hand and spun you back to him, facing the other again and he smiled slow, a smile you'd certainly never seen before but enjoyed thoroughly as his hands moved to the back of your ribs, dragging you closer to him.

He loosened a hand and put your arms around his neck, the height difference between you bringing your body crushed against him and it felt kind of... perfect.

"Thank you for tonight," you said, just between the two of you. He smiled faintly, his hands caressing your back. Once he'd found access to skin, his hand kept a close touch all night and your back felt cold without it.

"It's really me that should be thanking you," he admitted, lips dangerously close to your ear and you'd deny it, but it shook you to the core. Looking at him, your feet stopped moving and the world may have stopped too. Here he was, right in front of you, just like he always had been... but he was completely new to you now. "I haven't had a night like this in a really long time," he continued earnestly. "Almost felt like a real date."

You had lost the ability to talk, because thinking about it later, you'd realise, this was the first of many nights like this. But it wouldn't pretend anymore. He would be yours, and you would be his right back. And the pretence would be gone; traded for romance that didn't need to be held back, touches on skin that meant something because it was their skin you'd touched so many times before, still able to draw the same spark as it had tonight.

Rooster's lips met your forehead, leaving a lingering kiss against your skin and you held him just a little bit tighter. "I got you, kid," he told you softly but wasn't quite sure why he added, "You're safe with me."

And you may have believed him.

"Do you two want a lift?" Annie asked as the festivities started to come to a close. The bride and groom had left, guests were starting to organise themselves to do the same, the band was packing up and the music was over for the generic 'get the fuck out of our venue now' muzak. After your last duties for the evening to help Sarah's parents collect the gifts and load their car, you went back to the table to collect your belongings, thankful it was all finally over... as well as the evening.

It was a long day, and saying you were exhausted, physically, mentally... emotionally, was an understatement. Things were a bit muddled to you now and you were feeling a little unhinged at the growing flutters in your tummy while so close to Rooster. He was currently holding your bouquet and your clutch like it was absolutely no big thing.

"Rooster, I don't think you should drive. I can get you both back. I'm the designated driver for another three weeks and one day," she looked at her belly, accusingly. "Unless you'd like to come sooner, please?"

"Shit," he muttered. He had probably had one or two drinks too many, he realised. Palming his keys in his pants pocket, he replied he would just walk back to base. Wasn't at all far, he had his credentials. Fresh air would sober him up anyway.

"You sure?"

"Yeah, absolutely. Thank you though. I'm sure your little sister will get me back safely," he joked entirely for Annie's benefit. But your feet, your poor feet were shredded. You gave yourself kudos, you'd done the right thing and kept your heels on the duration of the day, but all you could imagine was peeling them off and preparing for the onslaught of blisters and discomfort as soon as humanly possible.

"Okay," she grinned. "Take care, Rooster," she hugged him and he hugged her back, trying to avoid her baby bump politely. "So good to see you."

"You too, Annie," he replied fondly. "I had a great night."

"Don't be a stranger when you're in town. Let's do this again soon. Come over for dinner, bring her," she nodded to you.

"I might," Rooster gave her a shy smile and Annie hugged him again. "I'm thinking of moving back so you may be seeing a bit more of me anyway," he said and your ears pricked up, this was brand new information and your palms may have clammed up a little.

"You should, everyone would be so happy you're home," she told him.

"Definitely thinking about it," he promised.

"Good, Please get my sister home safely?" she warned him.

"Of course, she's precious cargo," he smiled as Annie kissed you and waddled over to Arron, her extremely drunk hubby.

"I could have gone with that lift," you told him as you watched them leave. Your poor feet.

"Nah, you're okay," he said. "Let's go for a walk."

"Rooster," you protested. "I might cry."

Rooster pouted. "Then I'll piggyback you," he broke into a smile as a few of the single bridesmaids said goodnight to you both. "Come with me. Got an idea," he urged, nodding towards the door, not waiting for you and taking off in his strides in that direction. Moving as quick and gracefully as the heels would allow, you caught him at the door where he took your hand and you followed him to the beach. It was pitch black minus the moon's reflection on the water, nearing midnight when he stopped at the edge of the grass to sand and watched him unbutton his jacket to sit. You did the same. "Feet, please?" he asked quietly.

Confused, you weren't sure why you offered him your left foot, but his fingers made haste unbuckling the silver heel you had been wearing for hours and hours.

"Gentle," he told himself as he pulled the off, and held his palm out for your other foot that you gratefully offered, the relief almost instantaneous. Putting your heels together, he lightly pressed into the arches of your feet, your ankles, your calves, the pain worth it for a few moments, looking at you with a gentle frown to make sure he wasn't hurting you, but it was definitely worth it. "Okay?" you nodded as he slipped off his jacket and left it in a pile with your shoes, purse and bouquet. He unlaced his loafers, took his socks with them and cuffed his slacks up to his lower calf although there was little give to them. "Shit," he muttered, pulling at the wrong piece of his bowtie and knotting it tighter.

"Here, Roost," you said softly, sitting up to kneel, he watched you in keen interest as your fingers worked to loosen the tie. Knowing he'd made it worse before it unravelled under your touch, you smiled as he happily unbuttoned the first few holes on his shirt, showing a little of his strong, golden chest and a light smattering of dark hair.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Up," he got up slowly, finding the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt and rolling both to his muscular forearms. He smiled, offering his hand. He pulled you up, your sore feet sending you careening into him softly. He nodded towards the water and followed you through the sand.

The night was cool, but in the height of summer, not unbearable by any stretch of the imagination. Stopping right before the waves, you looked back at him.

"I promise you, those feet will feel a million bucks in about 15 seconds," and he hitched you into his arms, taking you out to his knees, lowering you amid squeals of cold and a now damp skirt around your thighs. He didn't give you space, he stood behind you, his hands resting on your belly, chin on your hair. You felt him sigh behind you.

"Dammit, Rooster," you cursed him although grinning in the madness, trying not to shiver as the waves splashed around you. It was a little chillier in the water than you would have liked, but Rooster was close and he was almost radiator hot. "It's f-f-freezing," you chattered.

"It's the ocean at midnight," he said in your ear. "What were you expecting?" he posed a good question. "But your feet don't hurt now, do they?"

"Actually, I can't feel them... because they're numb," you replied, your toes thumbing in the sand beneath you, it grounded you and felt so familiar. You loved it, craved it. The grains felt good and if you squinted, you could almost avoid the slight needling of your feet as they started to relax and unwind.

"You're the water," he murmured to you quietly, his voice lower than the ocean's bustle around you. "I know I'm the clouds. But you're the ocean. You need it. I've always known that about you. I see you some mornings down here, in the waves if I run late. I never see a crease or concern on your features, you're just one with the water. It's pretty sexy, actually."

You wished he'd stop talking because as he adjusted his hold on you, leaving one hand on your hip, the other arm wrapping around your shoulders, you only reaffirmed how good you fit against him. "I love that," you admitted, taking his hand and he sighed again. He was right, though cold, this was your happy place. This is where you desired to be, in the water and the freedom and terror that came with it, how it could make you teeter so easily and push you out of your comfort zone. And he knew all about it.

Above you, Rooster smiled to himself. He was starting to really enjoy holding you close, learning the curves of your body, how you could find the perfect place to find calm in his arms. "Hey?"

"Hmm?"

"I had a really good time tonight. It... didn't feel forced or contrived. Why haven't you and I done this before?"

Because we didn't see each other this way before Natasha threw us together, you wanted to say. We can laugh, we can play and have fun, team against anyone and not think anything of it... but tonight has categorically changed our friendship because I can't go back to just being your friend, Rooster. I think it would be easier to lose you than find out you didn't want to be with me this way again.

You stayed silent, you had just tortured yourself with your inner monologue as it was. "You are absolutely shaking," Rooster said, softly, maybe now regretting his idea and his fat fucking mouth just a little. "I think it's time to get you out of the water."

"I'm okay," you lied as he rubbed your arms where he could see the goose pimples rise. He couldn't stop the shuddering even in his stranglehold.

"Out you get, kid."

You nodded thankfully. The adrenaline coursing through your veins was not enough to keep you warm and only caused you to tremble more. "Sorry," you said as he released you from his clutches and moved before he could say anything else.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Rooster sighed, watching you make your way to the beach. He knew he'd scared you. You knew he was opening his heart to you, and just like Natasha joked about your commitment fear, maybe it wasn't too far off the mark and that made him sad for all that you had missed and what you could miss out on. He began to follow you as you sat back near all the gear you'd removed, closing in on yourself. Rooster ran the last little while up the beach and retrieved his jacket, putting it over your shoulders. "You okay, kid? You're blue."

"Can't stop shaking," you could only reply and he swore he heard your teeth chatter. "But I'm okay."

"Come on, let's get you home," he tossed all the gear except the flowers into his jacket and tucked it under his arm then offered you his hand to help you up. He used a little more force, driving you into him and he wrapped you into his arms - he was very good at bringing you close and he knew, not once had you fought it. "I didn't want to scare you before. I'm sorry I was so forward."

You gave a little shrug. "Don't worry about it, Rooster. I'm just a big girl with big problems," you said simply.

"Do you think you know... why you don't want to get close to me?" he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

You looked up at him and he knew the kicker was coming. "You have I have very different daddy issues," you told him. "When my dad left, I thought he'd come back. For years I thought I could try and make him want us again... but my sister and I weren't enough and if he could leave us, who he was supposed to love so fucking easily, it doesn't give you much confidence as an adult. He picked another family over us, I have other siblings I don't even know. The shit sticks."

Holy shit, Rooster thought, his knuckles rubbing against your back. He paused and held you tightly. He didn't know that... hell, he did but certainly not to that deep an extent and maybe your issues were a little more deeply rooted than Natasha had alluded to. He certainly couldn't blame you for that.

"You mean something to me, and ruining anything with you would destroy me," you continued. "I appreciate our friendship and that comfort that brings me."

He nodded. It felt like a kiss-off, that was for sure. "I wasn't asking for the rest of our lives," he said quietly.

"I know," you pulled back, needing to be completely out of his reach. "But I just don't know what to tell you right now."

"And that is the end of our first fake date," Rooster said, hating to admit he was kind of relieved as you got back to your apartment. He followed you to the front door and wanted you to feel as safe as you could in his presence because you hadn't said it... but everything had changed, and he knew it too. He didn't expect the night to go like this, but he knew, like you... things couldn't be the same again now.

You gave him a gentle smile and his heart fluttered, he'd always loved your smile, but shit... it was his now. He left your heels neatly at the stoop. "I hope today wasn't a total bust for you. Now you know how good I am at ruining good things," you poked fun at yourself. "It's a wicked character trait."

He sighed, dropping his eyes. "Why would you think that being honest with me would ruin anything?" he had to ask, putting his hands in his pockets. "Don't you think I appreciate that more?"

"I dunno," you leaned back against the door as he looked back at you, chewing your lip and God, he wanted to be the one chewing that lip. Vulnerability to most people could be seen as a red flag but to him? You were telling him things that you'd never told anyone, and that was almost sacred and it would always mean more. He knew you trusted him, but made him uneasy that it wasn't with your heart. "Do you?"

He rolled his eyes, a faint grin on his face. "Yes. I do appreciate that more. I've learned more about you tonight than I have in the last 30 years, which is kind of awesome... and terrifying."

"Terrifying?" you repeated, a little disappointed as he stepped closer.

"If you think for one second that you scaring me is a bad thing, you are kidding yourself," of this he was certain. He wasn't scared to be out of his comfort zone with you.

You finally smiled and shook your head gently. "I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you, Rooster. I owe you, big time."

"Don't be crazy. I drank top-shelf booze, ate more cake than I have eaten for years, and I got to spend my night with you. We'll call it even."

"Well, thank you. It really meant a lot. And it won't happen again, there are no weddings or other OTT celebrations in the foreseeable future."

"That's a shame," he laughed quietly.

There was a slight beat before your rationality kicked in. "Well, I should go in," you told him, pushing back off the door and reaching for your keys in your clutch. "I'm sure you've got an early morning."

"Class," he acknowledged.

You nodded. There would always be something. "Goodnight, Rooster," you said as you unlocked the door and took a step in before pausing. Rationality be damned. "Unless you wanna come in?" you called softly in the dead quiet of the night. You could see his brain working a million miles a moment.

This wasn't something you and Rooster did, you didn't hang out together this way, it was always in a group, always someone else to play the distraction. "Yeah, I really do," he admitted, standing before you. The air around you had changed and you swore it wasn't just you that noticed it. For the first time tonight, his nervousness was evident and he put his palm on your cool cheek. Licking his lips, he admitted, "I really wanna come in," he said quietly, resting his forehead against yours.

His eyes searched yours as you pushed the door open and your hand found his. He followed willingly, quietly kicking the front door closed as you led him down the small hallway to your living room. Low lit from the lamp you'd left on for your late arrival, Rooster was interested to check out your place. Quaint, but it was quintessentially you. Linen in neutral and blue, a stash of books on the coffee table. A home. "Do you want a drink?" you asked.

Erring on the side of caution, he responded 'water'. He was starting to cut it fine of being in a proper state for the following morning and while he could take his liquor, the last thing he wanted was a hangover in an F-18. You came back to him with a cool glass and he gave you a small smile of thanks. He tossed his suit jacket on the end of the couch, finally happy to be rid of the silly thing.

"Do you mind if I get changed? This dress is clogged with sand, it's wet and damp."

"Course not. Go make yourself comfy," he said with a small smile as he watched you walk away before he preoccupied himself with the endless photos on your wall. A tasteful aesthetic of beautiful white frames with a mix of colour and black and white photos stored in them, he felt the love and consideration you'd put into the curation of images. And holy shit, if it wasn't you on his Mom's hip. You were crying and she was trying to appease you in any way she could. He took the photo from the wall and you wandered back a few minutes later, hair down, oversized Lakers t-shirt and you saw what he stared at.

"Mom said I had just been told I couldn't get an ice cream from the ice cream truck," you filled him in. Rooster actually laughed.

"That's the cutest fucking thing I ever heard."

"And Carole was trying to tell me she could get me ice cream from your place even though my mom was saying no, but I didn't want it anyway because it didn't come from the ice cream man. Naturally."

"That's amazing. This is about the last photo I would have ever expected to have seen, you know?"

"You can have it if you want. I mean, I'm a screaming three-year-old, but your mom looks absolutely beautiful."

"Always," he said softly and put the photo back carefully on the wall. "You keep it, it gives me something to see when I am here."

You shrugged easily and took a seat on the couch. He took a hint and went to join you, taking a cool sip of water to regulate. This was just not how he saw the night going. Sure, he was a man, he had eyes in perfect working order. He wouldn't lie and say he hadn't memorised every curve of your body, your smile and that absolutely devastating self-deprecating wit but there were plenty of other distractions in his wake. But here you were, right before him. And you, at that moment, were perfect but he didn't know what you wanted from him and it ate him alive.

"What time is class tomorrow?"

"Eight," he replied.

You gently reached for his hand, avoiding his eyes and tracing over the callouses and his lifelines. "I'm sorry about before," you said finally. "I am really good at finding ways to make a night nosedive."

He shook his head, laying an arm against the length of the couch in hopes you'd shift just a little closer again. "No, fuck no. Please don't apologise."

"You know more about me tonight than most people know in a lifetime. I'm really not the sharing kind."

"That... I knew," he with a smile. "I kind of figured we were a bit alike that way anyway. But it gives me a little bit of hope. I'll weasel my way in," he said confidently. "You'll regret opening yourself up to me," he teased as you laughed heartily.

"Using my trauma against me," you fist-pumped and he was so relieved you could see the funny side to it as he scooted a little closer since you didn't. "Awesome."

"I promise I never would do that," he said sincerely. "I have enough baggage to take everyone in this damn town out."

"That's true," you agreed. "What a mess we are."

"You're not a mess. You have your reasons, just like I do," he let go of your hand and reached into his shirt, pulling out his dog tags. "These have been driving me mad all night. Think they're imprinted into my chest..."

"Can I see?" you asked as he shrugged and slipped it over his head, gently putting it over yours and letting the tags jangle across your heart. You picked it up and looked at the imprints of his name. "Bradley N. Bradshaw," you spoke. "What do you think your parents were thinking when they gave you more or less the same first and last names?"

He laughed loudly. "Bradley was my mom's dad's name," he explained. "And it was the 80's. I guess they thought it just sounded cool. They didn't think of what it might be like for me at 34."

You grinned, tracing the bumps of his ID. "I forgot what these felt like. Dad's, Grandpa's. Having them in my hands like they were a toy, and what they really stand for."

Rooster didn't speak. He understood what you meant without having to go into it.

"Roost?"

He hummed in reply.

"Have you thought about settling down?"

"I've thought about it," he shrugged simply. "I haven't really found anyone who I want to settle down with. Last thing I want is something that doesn't last. I want to feel like my parents did - I can hardly remember it... but the way Mom spoke about Dad after he died? That's something to strive for, you know? I know she was sick... but she really died of a broken heart in the end," he said quietly.

Holy shit... you thought.

"When I find the one, I'll know," he added, taking your hand back into his and this time, he avoided your gaze as he drew circles around the pads of your palm. "I'm sure of it." He was sure of it.

"And here I was thinking you loved being a bachelor and the notoriety of the Navy," you said, and he appreciated the teasing as he laughed, scratching his neck.

"I mean, yeah. There are some benefits to not settling," lifting his gaze back to you, he pondered again. "I'm not really that guy that falls quickly."

You nodded, you knew what that felt like and you knew he was growing weary of sharing hour, so you decided to make things more interesting. "I've asked Natasha this and was not remotely surprised with her response. But I'll ask you too because I know you wouldn't lie to me... What's the greater thrill: flying... or fucking, Rooster?"

Rooster chuckled quietly. "That is going directly for the jugular," you saw his lips move, but sounds didn't follow through. "I love flying," he looked up. "My fate is sealed, but the right person? Jesus, fucking the right person could make you wanna give it all up, you know?"

"No, I don't," you pressed, your brain trying to decipher his answer. "That's why I asked."

He smiled, a small tint of red creeping up to his cheeks. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"I think I like making you squirm," you said simply as dropped his eyes, coy all of a sudden.

"Oh, I get it now," he thought about it. "If it was life and death, I would, I can't believe I'm saying this... but I'd fly."

"Oh, my God," your jaw may have hit the floor. It just was not the response you were expecting but told you a lot about Rooster's priorities.

"As I said, if it was the right person..." he tried to over-correct himself as you bit back your grin, covering your mouth with your joined hands.

"I'm speechless," you continued to needle him.

"Okay, if this is the little game we want to play - " he announced, smacking the top of your hand.

Oh, fuck.

"My turn, then," he said straightening up and you panicked, and he grinned because he could see you were clearly panicking. "Why haven't you really settled? You could have found the guy that it could have all worked with. You're smart, fucking hilarious, beautiful. Now don't get me wrong... but for most guys, that's all they need. We're not overly complex creatures."

"Honestly?"

His hand that was in yours clamped down and was trapped in his strong grasp. "Honestly."

"I don't think I'm ever going to find what I'm looking for. I haven't found someone that can keep my attention for long enough."

He stayed silent, he wasn't convinced.

You grunted and continued. "I date. A lot. I am just not broadcasting how average these dudes are I'm dating. Why do I want to spend my time with someone with who I don't spark with?"

"Do you really have a problem with commitment?" he asked pointedly.

"No, I have a problem with assholes," you replied smartly. "You haven't settled down, do you have a problem with a commitment?" you threw back.

He rubbed his moustache and he considered his answer. "No, I'm content with not being ready to settle down yet."

"So, yeah. You kind of have a problem with commitment," you laughed as he nudged you.

"I realise I'm in my prime," he shrugged, giving his ego receiving a nice self-stroking. You didn't mind Rooster talking himself up, it was incredibly sexy, truth be told. He was generally pretty modest about all that kind of stuff and kept his business to himself but really, he wasn't completely unlike his friends and co-workers. He knew he good a good-looking dude, his voice could turn you inside out (you figured), he could command a presence fairly easily, and women were putty in his hands. It wasn't a lot of effort on his behalf.

Grinning widely, you snuck closer to him, sitting on your knees and he watched his hands fall to his thighs as you released yourself from his grasp. God, you loved making him writhe and he dared you to ask what you were thinking. "I'm not stupid, Rooster. I know you get a handful of numbers when we go out."

"How many of those girls do you think I call?" he asked, thoughtfully. He knew you were getting off on this, taking the focus off you and pinning it on him. He didn't mind, he knew you were enjoying this little game of cat and mouse, and you weren't really offended by any of his questions, so he couldn't be either.

"You tell me," you whispered.

He adjusted his posture and he took your chin in his palm, his thumb imprinting on your chin. God, you were right there, so close... desperate to be kissed. "I like the chase," his voice low. "But the chase isn't all that much a challenge much anymore," he admitted and his wrist started beeping. 4am. He needed to go. He silenced it. "Saved by the bell," he announced. "That's my alarm."

"And just when we were getting to the juicy bits," you sighed as he kept your gaze, a small smile on his face.

"We can continue this if you like. At a more respectable hour."

"No thank you," you said quickly and he chuckled quietly.

"I'm not surprised by that."

You smiled shyly. "Sorry."

"Fuck, you're so beautiful, do you know that?" he couldn't stop himself from saying. It just had to be said and put out there. Great, now it was done, he reasoned. You didn't break his gaze, you were daring him to make a move. He licked his lips and had to laugh. He'd already made the move. If you wanted him, he decided... the ball was in your court. Come and claim me, he wished.

"Roost?" you said again.

He raised an eyebrow in reply.

"Stay."

"No," he said, sitting forward. Fight for me.

You got to your feet and pushed him back against the couch, a small grunt bristling as you stepped between his wide legs. He reached for your hamstrings, his hands massaging against your bare skin as he raised his eyes to you. It was powerful and intimate and he didn't know if he trusted himself to be touching you like this.

"If you've got something to say... this would be the time to say it," his voice thick with desire, daring you.

"Stay," you repeated, your fingers coiling into his sun-kissed ringlets, giving them a gentle tug as he slowly licked his lips.

"Gonna need more than that," he told you, pulling you flush against him, helping you straddle him, his arms in a vice grip around you.

"Stay for me."

He bristled a laugh as you reached for a button on his shirt, dainty fingers making light work of the straining material over his chest. "Think I'm gonna just fuck you after all this?" he removed your hands, placing them back in your lap where he silently prayed you'd keep them because his strength was waning and if you tried really hard, you'd have him exactly where you wanted him. "You really wanna make this about a quick fuck and I just up and leave?" he shook his head. "I think you know by now I want a little more than that."

"What do you want, Rooster?" you asked, your fingers tracing his scars, finding one on his jaw you were particularly fond of and tracing it, feeling him tremor beneath you. "Tell me," you said reaching for the hem of your shirt and he knew he was going for martyrdom as he held your shirt down, whispering a curse. "You don't want me?" you asked, easing back just a little, shocked and a little more than embarrassed.

"More than anything. Can't you fuckin' see that?" he took your face in his palms and he could see your resolve crumble, breaking him as your eyes shone with tears. "That's why we gotta wait."

Your gaze dropped, you hadn't felt rejected like this in a long time. You didn't feel sexy, you didn't feel desired and you absolutely did not feel like he wanted you regardless of the apparent sincerity of his words.

"Listen to me," his voice raspy from alcohol and exhaustion. "Tonight, before tonight," he confided. "I've thought about taking you in every position my mind could imagine. But every one of them was crude and in my mind, pure fantasy. Why do you think I didn't even think about saying no to any of this tonight? All these years and all we have to show for us is a cheap fuck? I got a little more respect for you than that, baby girl. I wanna turn you inside out," he whispered against your skin. "Why do you think I never made a move before? If you give me the green light, I will absolutely pray to you."

You had forgotten how to breathe and he kept your eyes locked to his.

"I want to worship you," he told you, repeating your name like a mantra. "Don't you get it?"

The blood was pumping so loud in your ears that you were finding it hard to focus. You were drawn out of your stupor as his alarm started buzzing on his wrist again. He was getting later.

"I gotta go," he murmured, his face so close. "Just think about it, okay?" he said quietly, kissing your temple.

"That will be the problem," you confided as he hummed.

"I hope so," he helped detangle yourself from him, letting you stand although your legs were absolutely jelly. He smiled at you finally, thoroughly wretched, and all due to him. "So many things I want to do to you," he breathed. "But now, I gotta go." He'd been short on time before, but nothing as bad as this made him feel.

"I'm not asking you to stay again," you threatened pathetically, and he heard the lies as clearly as you did.

He nodded. But he couldn't and he knew he didn't have to explain his duty... because of anyone who knew him, you understood this most. "See me out?" he asked.

"Okay," you murmured, following him by the hand down the hallway. You unlocked the door, and he pushed it closed again, leaving his palm and weight against it. You raised a surprised eyebrow.

"I just can't - " he closed his eyes, dropping everything he was holding and grasping your face tenderly between his calloused palms. "Please think about this."

"And if I fuck it up?" you asked, scared as reality started to kick in.

"What if I do?" he challenged. "Do we not owe it to ourselves to find out?"

You nodded, almost pained, pressing your hands to his chest because you needed the last few touches before he left you. "Yes, we do," and with that, his lips were on yours. Soft, unobtrusive, it felt like you'd been kissing him your whole life. Familiar and right, you didn't realise how long you'd been waiting for this. He was such a good kisser, and there was no going back now. The words were out there... his kiss had tainted you.

His hands left your face, tangling into your hair, it felt incredible. He smiled against your lips and lightly pulled back. "You only needed to say yes," he told you, holding your face, his warm hazel eyes dancing and he kissed you again, a little rougher this time, his large hands tangling into your hair, tugging at strands as they moved to your back, dangerously close to your ass. "I'm holding back so bad right now, because the second I give in, I will stay."

"Can't you call in?" you asked hopefully, reaching for his lips again, your hands drifting to his hips and his head fell back with a quiet sigh. He pleaded for your hands anywhere further north.

"If I don't front up today... every single person we know will know exactly where I am... and why," he said, voice laced in mirth.

You told him softly, "I will make it worth your while."

He groaned loudly, his body already ready and willing, pressed unyielding against you. "I believe you," he breathed. "The idea of being with you will be all I'll be able to think about today. God damn," he hissed, his alarm going off again. "Can I see you later?"

"I think that's a good idea."

He gave a small smile, pushing some hair from your eyes. "Good morning, fake girlfriend," he kissed you gently again, let go of you to collect his gear at your feet and forced himself into opening the door, stepping over the threshold purposefully. He leaned back and kissed you once more. "I'll call you later," he breathed, trying to gather some resolve.

"Tonight?"

He nodded. "Tonight."

"Okay. Good morning, fake boyfriend." But now... there was nothing fake about it.

"Oh, before I forget," Rooster pointed at you. You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe, the adrenaline of the evening waning as he started to wander away. "What are you doing the last Saturday of next month?"

You outwardly shrugged. At this point you didn't know how today would even pan out as he wandered back to you, lips painfully close to yours, his arms slipping around your waist again and you didn't want him to let go. "I dunno. Why?"

"I got a wedding invite through the week," he smiled kindly and you bit back a laugh. "Thought maybe you'd like to go with me..."

"Think you can keep this fake dating thing going until then?" you asked, caressing his cheek.

"I'm pretty confident we may not be fake dating then..." he said quietly, kissing you just one more time.

"Ballsy of you to assume."

He nodded. "Yep," his eyebrow quirked.

"Do you have to wear your dress uniform?"

"Yes," he sighed, recalling your first conversation.

"Damn. This suit is really good," you playfully teased him, knowing his dress uniform would likely bring you to your knees. White or blue, you didn't care. It would be utter carnage.

"I don't even think a dry cleaner would bring this back to its original glory," he admitted with a chuckle.

"Shame."

"Jesus Christ, I want to stay. Please tell me to leave," his eyes fluttered closed.

You smiled as he took a wide step back. "You'd better go."

He nodded, thankful for your push. "I'll see you later," he said and forcibly turned away, his feet taking him away from you and when he was out of your view, you felt the weight of his dog tags on your chest.

"Oh, shit."

masterlist.

A/N: Want to learn more about these crazy kids? Here we go!

The Relationship Experience - prologue

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