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#i'm trying different lines and this was practice
uravichii · 2 days
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"best friends who kiss?"
character/s: bakugo katsuki
genre & trope: fluff, best friends to lovers, angry confessions, reader is terrified of love but bakugo wants them so bad 😁, tw kind of ooc bakugo
a/n: i've been watching a lot of pride & prejudice and bridgerton scenes n i'm now obsessed angry confessions 🤩 + this is heavily inspired by that scene in little women :) ALSO i haven't posted in a year 😟 so pls be nice ik my writing's rusty in this :'D
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the first time bakugou katsuki kissed you, he pretended he never did.
"what... " you brush your fingers against your bottom lip, your whole face hot. "what the hell was that for?"
"what?" bakugo shrugs, feigning innocence as he takes a swig of his soda.
you try and trace back the events that could have led to the kiss.
you said something along the lines of: "i wish i had a boyfriend. i could definitely pull a cute guy off the street."
then you heard him scoff and say: "no man's sane enough to put up with your insufferable ass." ーor something more insulting than that.
you can't remember what you said in response, and you rack your brain to figure out what prompted him to grab your face and kiss you. it's impossible when all you can think about is the unexpected supple feel of his lips, its faint ghost still lingering on yours.
"that kiss, katsuki! you violated my mouth!"
"dunno what you're talking about. you hit your head or something?"
you blink and second-guess yourself for a second.
"okay, no. you're not gonna gaslight your way out of this." you swat his arm, earning an irked glare from him. "why the hell did you kiss me?"
"you're imagining things, idiot. this stupid game's givin' ya some serious brain damage for sure."
he stands up and swings his bag over his shoulder.
"where are you going? we're not done yetー!"
and he's out of the door.
was he drunk off his soda? maybe he kissed you to mess with your head. he's not that cruel though, you think. maybe he couldn't think of any other way to shut you upー that was something he always struggled with after all.
at least the second time bakugo katsuki kissed you, he was kind enough to warn you.
after enduring the most awkward hour-long study session with him, you decide to put an end to your agony by wrapping it up. you start gathering your things when he stops you with a calloused hand on your wrist.
"what?" you turn to him, your cheeks already heating up from his touch.
there are no thoughts you could read behind those vermillion eyes, and all of a sudden, you don't know your best friend very well anymore.
he walks some tentative steps closer to you until the back of your knees hit the table. he cradles your jaw with such delicacy you didn't even know he was capable of. he slips past your awaiting lips and presses his nose on the side of your head, his warm breath kissing your flushed skin.
"punch me in the face and scram if you don't want this, got it?"
you gulp and forget to answer if not for the gentle squeeze on your wrist. "y/n, you got it?"
"s-sure."
when you two kiss, it's different from last time. it's unhurried, curious, and so intoxicating. the kiss speaks: 'i want you. i want you. i want you' but whose thoughts are these?
he groans into your lips as if to urge you to keep up with the sheer hungriness that has consumed him. you try your best to do so as he deepens the kiss with a palm on the back of your head and practically drinks you in. he doesn't pull away until he hears the tiny whine that escapes you.
"shit, sorry." he mutters, avoiding your stunned gaze.
"t's okay."
"did i hurt you?" the quiet lilt of his voice surprises you.
"no, no. i'm okay, but why'd you kiー"
"bye." he blurts out as he turns to the door and leaves, as if he didn't just invaded your mouth and permanently tainted the years of friendship you two have had. you click your tongue as the heat subsides in your cheeks.
"son of a bitch."
the third time bakugo katsuki kissed you, you let him, and he didn't stop.
you had barely escaped death when you lost your footing while sparring with todoroki. naturally, bakugo yelled the poor guy's ear off and would have murdered him if eraserhead hadn't interfered at the last second.
now, you find yourself heaving in your bed. you don't know whether your hastened pulse is from the adrenaline rush or from the fact that bakugo is all over you right now.
he's planting feather-light kisses all over youー your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your eyelids, your hands, and your wrist, as panicked murmurs spill out of him in between kisses. 'you scared the hell out of me. you have no idea, fuck. are you okay? are you really okay? tell me you're okay, y/n.'
"i'm okayー" you barely manage to gasp before he dips his lips into yours, desperate and frantic. tremulous hands find solace in your hips as he holds you, gentle enough not to mar your injuries but snug enough to assure his restless heart that you are safe.
your head feels hazy. your limbs ache and lie motionless, and though your lips could barely move to reciprocate his kisses as much as you wanted to, bakugo didn't stop. you tried to ask him about it the next morning, but of course, he ignored you and walked away.
you don't know when he stopped kissing you that night. all you know is that there was a line that was crossed, and your friendship was never going to be the same again.
bakugo katsuki is going to kiss you again. your heart thrums incessantly. whether it's dread or anticipationー you don't know.
you think about the sensation of his lips that's become so familiar to you that you've learned to crave it. it shouldn't be familiar to you, and you sure as hell shouldn't want it. so you do what you think is necessary.
you kick him in the shin.
"motherfー!" sure enough, he's pissed. "what the hell is wrong with you?!"
"what the hell is wrong with you?!"
"i was going toー"
"no! you're not gonna kiss me again and walk away and pretend it never happened. you're messing with my head, katsuki! it's not funny!"
"wasn't trying to be funny!" he barks back.
"okay, so what exactly are you trying to do? what is this? i meanー" you stammer, struggling to find the words. "katsuki, what are we?"
he sighs and shifts his stance, his discomfort apparent. when the silence lingers on for too long, you speak.
"well, whatever it is that you want from me, we're going to stay friends. nothing more, nothing less. that's it." your breath hitches, and you don't know why you feel like crying as you speak. "... so i don't want your stinky mouth anywhere on me again."
silence weighs heavily between you. sometimes you wish you didn't know him too well, then the hurt he veils in his eyes wouldn't be so plain and vivid to you, and you would have walked away by now without an ounce of remorse.
"i like you, y/n." is all he could say when he finally speaks.
you shake your head. "no, you're just confused."
"i'm not confused. i like you."
"katsuki, you've been bitchless all your life, and i'm just the closest thing to a s/o. maybe go take a walk or something."
"i like you." he persists. "i've liked your stupid ass forー"
"stop saying that. you don't."
"i do, and you like me tooー"
"what?!" you laugh incredulously.
'who does this dumbass think he is?' is he right? surely, he's not. then what are you so afraid of in the first place? why have you been counting down the days until he kisses you again? why do you yearn for his touch as if it's something you own? why do you feel so infuriated and so tormented when he leaves the room after kissing you?
you do what is necessary again.
"you're delusional!" you yell at his face, a childish shrill that's awfully familiar to your childhood best friend.
"jesus christ." he inhales sharply in frustration. "you're a fucking pussy, y/n."
you clench your jaw and match his glare. anger surges in your chest and bleeds into your voice.
"i'm not the one who chickens out after kissing their best friend! you can't even acknowledge the fact that you kissed me because you'reー!"
"do you think i want to chicken out? why do you think i run away after kissing you?! if i stayed and confessed all this shit the first time, you would've refused to hear it like the damn coward you are!" he leans close to you, his voice lowering into a ragged snarl that quickens your pulse. "and you're just proving it right now, y/n. you're always going to shut this down and deny your feelings because you're a fucking pussy. you're terrified of relationships, and it's dumbest shit ever. pathetic, really."
you rear back from his words. if anything, you always thought it was katsuki who was afraid of love. now, you can't help but feel small and vulnerable underneath his searing gaze.
"it's not dumb..." you shuffle uncomfortably. "what, i'm supposed to ruin our friendship for a relationship that we're going to break off anyway?"
"we're not going to break it off."
"how do you know that?"
"because i'll be the best goddamn boyfriend in the world!"
"first of all, gross." you scoff. "second of all, it's never gonna work out! you're going to get sick of me in three days max."
"i've known you since we were brats, and i still want you."
"you literally said no man's sane enough to put up with my obnoxious ass."
he smirks. "i said 'insufferable ass'."
"katsuki!" you fight the urge to strangle him and punch that stupid smile off his face.
"wasn't even serious that time." he grimaces and reluctantly continues. "you know damn well you can pull any guy you want, and he'd be the luckiest bastard on earth."
if it were any other day, you'd grin at him and say 'i told you so,' but your lips remain unmoved, and your eyes stay dim. you're afraid you'll never go back to being the same katsuki and y/n again.
"this is pointless, katsuki. i mean, look! we're already fighting." you grouch and tell yourself you don't want this. "i still don't want us to happen so while this friendship is still salvable, let's agree to stay friends, and whatever sappy shit you feel for meー suck it up."
in one swift motion, he closes the distance between you, his face hovering dangerously over yours.
"suck it up?" he breathes, his face taut in frustration. "restraining myself from you is the hardest shit i've ever had to do. it takes everything in me not to kiss your stupid face!"
he shudders, weakly resting his forehead against yours as if this conversation alone has exhausted him. still, he goes on.
"and everytime i failedー everytime i kissed those lips, it was... a moment of weakness, but that's the fucking problemー you're just..." he buries his face into the crook of your neck, a desperate attempt to escape your wide-eyed gaze. "i'm weak for you, y/n. every second. and it drives me fucking insane that you keep running away from me."
he rises to meet your eyes again. the cadence of his voice changes into something weak and desperate, stripped of all the pride and anger he's ever known.
"i love youー fuck. i love you." he lets the words hang in the air, letting the words hear itself spoken because for once, you're not stopping him. "i love you, so please... let me."
after much thought and another agonizing minute of silence, you lean in to kiss bakugo katsuki.
he kisses back almost instantly and revels in the way you wrap your arms around his neck and bear your weight on him completely. he kisses back ardently, his pent-up desires and years of longing etched in the way he seeks your lips, kiss after kiss after kiss.
when you finally pull away, you're met with a devilish smirk, his begging eyes long gone. you wonder to yourself when you'll see those eyes again.
"took ya long enough." he kisses you again. he raises a brow at the way you're caging him in your arms. "jesus, no one's gonna snatch me from you."
"i'm making sure you don't run away again, dumbass."
"i won't." he says earnestly as he props his forehead against yours. "and you won't either. i'll make sure of that."
you nod your head with a giddy smile as he pecks your lips again.
"so..." you say as you exaggerate a pensive look, a cheeky grin spreading across your face. "we're best friends who occasionally kiss?"
he rolls his eyes. "you're impossible."
"recite that speech again, and i'll consider calling you my boyfriend."
"fuck off!"
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TAGLIST [1/2] @uxavity @joy-the-reader @kiiraes @escapenightmare @afk-dreaminq @avocamich @theboredvee @wonderwrench @ur-local-simp @p-ol @x0xuglyh0tgrl2005xoxo @cosmonettica @melin-oe @mitzi127 @lilac-o @r2katsu @bakucumsackslut @idunnomynamesince2005 @astralwaifu @taurus852 @creepyproxies @maycat-19-142 @stella-fleurets @veenxys @devilgirlcrybabiey @drawingaddict @kageyama-i-want-tobiors @lexiv-web @angelshimaa @izukus-gf @christiansdior @homosexualjohnwayne @uwiuwi @hirugummies @cupidines @loveisningning (bold couldn't be tagged)
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mysteryshoptls · 3 days
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SSR Epel Felmier - Club Wear Voice Lines
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When Summoned: If ya think you can stop my shot, then try stoppin' it!
Summon Line: Once we're out on the field, seniority don't mean a thing! I'm gonna fight for a starting spot on the team!
Groooovy!!: Haah, haah... Don't care how hard it gets, I ain't ever givin' up. We'll definitely win!
Home: Better not underestimate me.
Home Idle 1: Back when I first joined the club, no one took me seriously, but ever since I blocked a shot with my face during one of our matches, I think everyone sees me in a different light.
Home Idle 2: I think I'll make some Harveston honeyed apples for our next match. That'll definitely be tastier than lemons!
Home Idle 3: Even after a rough day of practicin', all us first years hafta put away all the equipment... Maaan, I wish I wasn't a freshman.
Home Idle - Login: I used to always hope to play Magical Shift someday, ya know. It's just so awesome to be able to clench victory together alongside the team!
Home Idle - Groovy: I want to practice shooting the disc, but it's such a pain having to go grab it after each throw... Oh man, if only there was someone who could lend me a hand~
Home Tap 1: Leona-san's advice is always so spot on! Just wish he'd show up to practice more to see how I'm working on everything.
Home Tap 2: Ruggie-san's passes usually come out of nowhere, which keeps us on our toes. I've run into the disc a buncha times during practice 'cause of that.
Home Tap 3: I always wear goggles when flying to keep the wind and dust clouds outta my eyes. Just wearin' it gets me pumped up. I look so cool with these on!
Home Tap 4: Back home, I'd help pick the apples by flyin' up on a broom. Maybe all that weaving through the tree branches is comin' in handy for Magical Shift.
Home Tap 5: Eh? I have a sunburn!? Oh no, and Vil-san was telling me I need to be careful while practicing outdoors...!
Home Tap - Groovy: I gotta learn to stay calm even if I get hit with the worst foul during a game. Can you smack talk me a little so I can practice?
Duo: [EPEL]: I got a plan in mind, Ruggie-san! [RUGGIE]: Countin' on ya, Epel-kun!
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Requested by @amourteddyst.
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cy-cyborg · 3 days
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Proximity to disability is not the same as living with it - Writing disability quick tips
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[ID: An image with “Writing Disability quick tips: Proximity to disability is not the same as living with it” written in chalk the colour of the disability pride flag, from left to right, red, yellow, white, blue and green. Beside the text are 2 poorly drawn people icons in blue, one is standing, the other is in a wheelchair. /end id]
One of the really common ways people push back against disabled people trying to give them feedback on how they’ve depicted disability in their work shows up as something along the lines of, “Well I have a child/parent/grandparent/friend with that disability, so I don’t need to consult other disabled people because I already know what a life like that is like!”
I see the most vehement pushback like this from parents of disabled children. the parents who are their child's advocates, their carers, they see everything their kids go through and have been with them through it all, so they "know what they're talking about already". And the thing about that is, while it means you have much, much more experience with the disability in question, it's not the same as direct experience living with it. Don't get me wrong, it's still an incredibly valuable experience to have, I'm not saying to disregard it, but it's not the same as having that disability. And when you're writing about characters who are disabled, and telling those stories to a public who already have a lot of misinformation about us going in, that lived experience is very, very important.
This isn't unique to parents of course, like I said, I've seen the same kind of pushback from children, friends and other loved ones of disabled people, and honestly, as someone who's been on both sides of the conversation (being a disabled person, but also having loved ones with disabilities different to my own), I do get where it comes from. But no matter how close you are with your disabled loved one, no matter how much you talk, no matter how much they explain everything, unless you yourself have that same disability, it's incredibly hard to understand the details of what life with a disability is like.
Let me use my partner as an example:
Often times, before these larger articles go up, I run them by my partner to ensure the tone and message I want to get across is actually what’s being conveyed. Which means he’s read pretty much every single article I’ve written on this blog. We talk about disability representation and tropes a lot, and he is one of the only people who sees my unmasked and unfiltered reactions to media when it’s done poorly. He’s also done a great deal of his own research on the subject, and worked with other disability sensitivity readers for his own writing projects. Not to mention, well, we live together, he sees pretty much every part of my day-to-day life and he’s one of the only people who doesn't share my disability who I talk to about the more complex emotions that come with it.
I think it’s pretty fair to say he’s quite knowledgeable on the subject of living with the specific disabilities I have for someone who doesn't have them. Despite that though, he still makes mistakes. He still misses things, and sometimes, internalised ableism - something everyone has, even disabled people - still creeps its way into his work. So do mistakes he simply didn't consider to run past me or his sensitivity readers. It’s not because he’s not listening or not trying, I’d confidently say he’s gone above and beyond in that regard, but it still happens. He still misses things that seem so obvious to me, specifically because of my lived experience as a disabled person who has to deal with these things all the time. It’s not unique to him either. A lot of people in my life are aware of the issues I talk about, but struggle to recognise them in practice or struggle to understand why them being depicted poorly is a problem.
This isn't to discourage creators from trying, mind you. But just to serve as a reminder that everyone makes mistakes, and that's ok, so long as you're still trying and still listening. No matter how close you are to a disabled person, no matter how much work or effort you put into unlearning things like internalised ableism, it's still going to pop up occasionally. And that's fine, but it means that you still need to be open to the criticism you get from people with that disability.
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fobnsfwdoodles · 5 months
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If they didn't want me to make them into yaoi they could stop being yaoi for five seconds
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spamtoon · 22 days
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i would take their poison
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Sketch + Line Art for those Clicking Under the Cut(tm) (archival purposes honestly)
#moshi monsters#sweet tooth moshi monsters#experimentation i am COG AWFUL at digital dear goodness i was playing with coloring and transparency and all those fun digital doodads.#next time i probably wont have black outline or i'll do it differently. or i'll try well. not doing this. it sure was a process im#i'm an amateur everyone who masically only doodles. does the sketch look better than the final. kinda! but thats okay because im learning#and y'know what. sometimes in life you just need to draw faves no consequences#for how saturated a character they are i kinda feel like i pastelled things too muc and trapped myself with my convoluted layer setup but m#it was looking WEIRD with everything at full force#maybe the sparkles look dumb maybe the hair looks dumb and out of place and why i kinda made the lollipop a little funky too#uhh. first digital piece posted... ever?#the arm is SO fucky i am not that was. thats not what perspective is spam#yes this is what i spent a good chunk of today doing after i started working on coloring it and then. decided to go for it.#cooolrs a little inaccurate on the horns and such but man one of the biggest art things was like#i dont have to have everything at their perfect hex codes all the time. this would look way worse if i just. used their standard colors#yeah this is. instead of looking like its forward and to the right it kinda just looks like they have a Bigger hypno-lolly#especialy becase. i did not bother on the gloves and platforms i the sparkles work with 2 kinda sorta but you know#im practicing! i'm learning! i'll get better and learn how to do things more effectively!#anyway. sweet toof#though hey their arm looks even more fucked in the line art and sketch SO#note to future self have a Consistent Line Art Size so that if you feel like the line art looks like shit during coloring you dont have to#gamble on what size it was while changing it#sketch lollipop looks better i should have kept it small. but its fine. we'll get em next time boys (tm)#yes i know my gif post was so fancy and then the drawing is just THIS
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aviatrixx · 1 year
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Trying to take making digital art more seriously, but so far all I’ve accomplished is “draw Yamcha a bunch of times” lmao
[Image ID: Eight digital drawings of Yamcha from Dragon Ball with different facial expressions.]
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suckishima · 3 months
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rrrrrrrrr im so frustrated with my writing. its just been weeks of struggle and whyyyy. idk i think i need to rework or rethink what im going for with this one or something, its like i can feel the threads of the themes i wanna do are sooo close to tying together but it just isnt quite reaching yet and so it reads like a stilted bland mess but the more i stare at it the further away it feels aaah
i know it can get there i kNOW it can, the ending and like aha moment is so cleaaaar that i think its almost too solid and thats why my beginning feels so fucked—like i just keep asking myself 'well if hes gonna get there in chapter 5, whats stopping him from getting there now in chapter 2??' i tHOUGHT i had reasons but now that im there i just keep instinctually writing him to have the connecting/realization moment anyway and like. if that's how it is then what even IS the story??? i need a break
#leaving for my parents for christmas tomorrow and while its always a little lowkey stressful there esp during holidays#itll be nice to at least have a different stress than this one for a few days lmao#mandatory writing break coming at a good time ig#anyway a lot of the real problem is that a big reason i wanted to write this fic is bc i wanted to explore tsukkis mental space during#the ball boy arc bc i feel like its an interesting transitional time for him in terms of like being after his big moment but then#he slightly regresses in that post match bathroom scene until yamaguchi sets him straight and like. i love just how furudate is showing#that growth isnt linear and so i wanna explore how tsukki would feel during the camp (which he didnt seem stoked to go to)#and in contrast with hinata who couldnt go but weasels in anyway and like how does tsukki deal with#that intensity of stupidity and passion in regards to how he feels about his own relationship to volleyball now#like i dont think its a straight line from blocking ushijima -> admitting yeah sometimes volleyball is fun#i think theres some wavering in there and oooo i wanna explore it but FUCK its hard??#why furudate why does tsukki deny extra practice the first night of rookie camp but accepts the second night??#i know why he accepts night 2 im excited abt that. i'm big time struggling with pinpointing why he says no night 1 in a way#that doesnt come off like 1 hes fully regressing 2 like im having him say no purely bc thats how it is in canon so magical ~plot reasons~#truthfully furudates reason is probably just 'was funny to have tsukki and kunimi say no in unison' and it isnt out of character for#tsukki to say no either but i also can feeeel it i can feeel the threads of a solid character developmental reason that will fit with#all the OTHER stuff im also trying to do lmao#i just need to piece it together in the right way in the right order and right emphasis#and its so cloooose rn but ugh it just feels wishwashy atm#and so. i struggle lmao#eesh anyway fun tag rant yay#heres to hoping not thinking about this for a week will help#x#....who wants to take bets on whether ill delete this later lol
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starcut-sand · 3 months
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I don't even go here (don't post my art online, I mean) but can I just say, why does it seem like everyone in social media art communities are suddenly obsessed with line confidence? I keep getting recommended tiktoks and posts and shit about line confidence, and they all seem to have the same vein of judging beginner artists for not having line confidence (without explaining what line confidence is or why it might be important).
Like, is my algorithm specifically targeting me in a weird way, or did everybody just decide overnight that line confidence is the be-all-end-all decider of whether your art is "good" or not?
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soy-sauce-and-mothra · 6 months
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Hey! Are there blacksmiths in your story? I'm a hobbyist blacksmith and I'm here to help!
Blacksmithing is one of those things that a lot of people get wrong because they don't realize it stuck around past the advent of the assembly line. Here's a list of some common misconceptions I see and what to do instead!
Not all blacksmiths are gigantic terrifying muscly guys with beards and deep voices. I am 5'8, skinny as a twig, have the muscle mass of wet bread, and exist on Tumblr. Anybody who is strong enough to pick up a hammer and understands fire safety can be a blacksmith.
You can make more than just swords with blacksmithing. Though swords are undeniably practical, they're not the only things that can be made. I've made candle holders, wall hooks, kebab skewers, fire pokers, and more. Look up things other people have made, it's really amazing what can be done.
"Red-hot" is actually not that hot by blacksmith terms. when heated up, the metal goes from black, to red, to orange, to yellow, to white. (for temperature reference, I got a second degree burn from picking up a piece of metal on black heat) The ideal color to work with the metal is yellow. White is not ideal at all, because the metal starts sparking and gets all weird and lumpy when it cools. (At no point in this process does the metal get even close to melting. It gets soft enough to work with, but I have never once seen metal become a liquid.)
Blacksmithing takes fucking forever. Not even taking into account starting the forge, selecting and preparing metal, etc. etc. it takes me around an hour to make one (1) fancy skewer. The metals blacksmiths work with heat up and cool down incredibly fast. When the forge is going good, it only takes like 20 seconds to get your metal hot enough to work with, but it takes about the same time for it to cool down, sometimes even less.
As long as you are careful, it is actually stupidly easy to not get hurt while blacksmithing. When I picked up this hobby I was like "okay, cool! I'm gonna make stuff, and I'm gonna end up in the hospital at some point!" Thus far, the latter has yet to occur. I've been doing this for nearly a year. I have earned myself a new scar from the aforementioned second degree burn, and one singe mark on my jeans. I don't even wear gloves half the time. Literally just eye protection, common sense, and fast reflexes and you'll probably be fine. (Accidents still happen of course, but I have found adequate safety weirdly easy to achieve with this hobby)
A forge is not a fire. The forge is the thing blacksmiths put their metal in to heat it up. It starts as a small fire, usually with newspaper or something else that's relatively small and burns easily, which we then put in the forge itself, which is sort of a fireplace-esque thing (there's a lot of different types of forge, look into it and try to figure out what sort of forge would make the most sense for the context you're writing about) and we cover it with coal, which then catches fire and heats up. The forge gets really hot, and sometimes really bright. Sometimes when I stare at the forge for too long it's like staring into the sun. The forge is also not a waterfall of lava, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.
Welding and blacksmithing are not the same thing. They often go hand-in-hand, but you cannot connected two pieces of metal with traditional blacksmithing alone. There is something called forge welding, where you heat your metal, sprinkle borax (or the in-universe equivalent) on it to prevent the metal from oxidizing/being non-weldable, and hammer the pieces together very quickly. Forge welding also sends sparks flying everywhere, and if you're working in a small space with other blacksmiths, you usually want to announce that you're welding before you do, so that everyone in a five-foot radius can get out of that five-foot radius. You also cannot just stuck some random pebbles into the forge and get a decent piece of metal that you can actually make something with, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.
Anvils are really fucking heavy. Nothing else to add here.
Making jewelry is not a blacksmithing thing unless you want jewelry made of steel. And it will be very ugly if you try. Blacksmithing wasn't invented to make small things.
If there's anything here I didn't mention, just ask and I'll do my best to answer.
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smitten!lucifer x oblivious!reader where he constantly flirts with them?
AAAHHHH YES!
Warnings: One sided pinning, obliviousness, improper cpr technique (do not do the activities described in this fic), kinda turned into a crackfic, swearing
Flirting Gone Wrong
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*Lucifer saw you and he swears he felt his heart literally skip a beat.
*Worships the ground you walk on.
*Follows you around like a lost puppy, trying to make you laugh, or just look at him.
*He needs your attention like he needs air to breath.
*Which he can't! Because everything you do or say makes him breathless.
*If you tell a completely unfunny joke, this guy will fall to the ground and start rolling in laughter.
*If you tell him about how a sinner cut you in line at the grocery store; He cries and tells you that you should have never had to go through that.
*If you say you are hungry, he was already in the hotel's kitchen because he knows you too well.
*How do you feel about Lucifer...?
*Well to you-
*He's just a really great friend!
*And Lucifer is determined to change that...
---
Lucifer cleared his throat, building up the courage to approach you.
The plan was to flirt, make you smile, then ask you to marry him and let him be your malewife out to dinner.
He took in a deep breath and made a beeline to the couch. He sits. Then he scoots. Then he scoots again. Inching closer to you bit by bit.
"Hey! You- uh- you come here often?" He wiggles his eyebrows.
"I live here..?" You tilt your head at Lucifer.
Shit, you do live here!
Back up pick up line, back up!
"Do you have a bandage? Because I scraped my knees falling for you~"
"Oh shoot, you scraped your knees? Are you okay, Luci?"
His face heats up at the nickname.
"I'm fine! I'm fine! How could I not be when you're around?" He attempts to save the failed pick up line, "Although maybe you should call a doctor because I think you're making my heart stop~"
"What?! You're heart is stopping?!?!" You push him down onto the couch, positioning your hands for CPR.
"Wait- it was a-"
You straddle him trying to get into a better position for the heart compressions.
Oh no! His face is getting red! He must be loosing oxygen or something!
You don't remember much of the process from the dummy lessons in middle school but you can't just let the king of hell die on you!!!
You push down and then put your lips on his, breathing in.
He away from you, too flushed to allow you to continue your incredibly incorrect version of CPR.
The sin of pride is seeing stars.
You practically kissed him just now.
"Are you- are you okay?" You ask.
"I'm fine"
Lucifer catches his breath, trying to hide his red face behind his hands.
"I'm perfectly fine."
He could always try again another time.
---
This bit was scrapped, but I decided to leave it at the end in case anyone was interested.
---
"Okay, okay, okay- what do you call a fake spaghetti noodle?"
Lucifer already knows what a fake noodle is called. You've told this joke on three different occasions, although on none of those occasions had you told him.
So he gave you a goofy grin and asked, "What do you call a fake noodle?"
"An impasta!"
He laughs like his life depends on it.
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Note
Hey have a request I’d love to see a fic like this:
Dad!Eddie x mom!reader their reaction when their 18 year old daughter comes home with her first real boyfriend turns out it’s a metalhead like Eddie :)
I hope you can do something like this <3
This is so cute, and I love the idea. I just picture Eddie being a complete girl dad. Hope you enjoy. 🩷
Requests are open for the time being.
Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom!reader
Warning: none, just some fluff.
A/n: This is fluff, but I still do not want minors interacting with my work. Not proofread
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"He's coming over!" Your daughter Julie raced down the stairs yelling out to you.
Eddie looked up from his phone with his reading glasses hanging off his nose. "Who's coming over? He?"
You saw him looking towards you and then back at your daughter. She just turned eighteen a few months ago. She was born on July tenth. Which was also the birthday of Ronnie James Dio. Something Eddie never stopped bragging about saying it's "the most metalest thing ever."
He fell in love all over again the moment she was born. She was glued to his hip. Anywhere he went, she went. If he was eating, so was she. If Eddie got a tattoo, then he was buying her one out of the bubble gum machine for her to match.
He couldn't stand watching her grow up. Seeing her go from this tiny little thing to a young woman was difficult on you both. She had his eyes and dimples along with his sarcasm.
"Oh, uhh, her boyfriend Eddie, remember he's coming for dinner." You reminded him while trying to keep things calm.
"Boyfriend?" He repeated.
Julie rolled her eyes. " Yeah dad boyfriend you know the guy I've been telling you and mom about for like the last two months."
Eddie didn't say a word back. He knew he couldn't stop her from dating. He actually didn't hate the idea of her dating. He hated the idea of some guy hurting her.
That's all it really came down to. He's tried so hard to shield her from all the bad in the world. But you've helped him realize that's impossible, and he needs to just let her learn.
Once your daughter left for the day, you sat with your husband. You wanted to take his mind off of things and just help him relax. He already possibly has high blood pressure. You didn't want to make it worse.
"You wanna go out back and work on your tomatoes? " You got up and started massaging his shoulders.
He smiled and took off his glasses. "I actually gotta tune up my bike, but maybe tomorrow, sweetheart."
"Are you okay?" You leaned down by his ear.
"I'm fine-- I'll be fine." He reassured you. You turned your head and gave him a little kiss to his cheek.
He was still as handsome as the first time you saw him. His eyes have the prettiest crinkles from all of the years of laughing. His smile lines are visible under his stubble. His hair is starting to finally grey in certain parts. You've been together since you were practically kids.
You and him fell in love the millisecond you laid eyes on each other. Your parents hated him at first. They tried so hard to keep you two apart, but you weren't having it. Nothing was going to keep Eddie away from you.
He tried so hard to win your parents over, mainly your dad. Since your mom softened up when she got to know him better. Your dad was a different story. Your dad didn't like his look.
The tattoos, hair, and music he was strictly against. Eddie was used to being treated like that. He was used to people judging him before they really knew him. That doesn't mean he still didn't try to get your father's approval because he did. All the time, with little to no luck.
You noticed Eddie had been in his garage all day. He said he had to give his bike a quick tune-up, but that usually only takes a few hours. He's been out there since this morning. You look at the clock, and it's now going on 4 pm. Julie has been home now for just an hour or so. She wanted to get ready in time to introduce you to her boyfriend.
You know he's nervous about meeting Julie's boyfriend. He doesn't want to seem like some weird overbearing parent. This is her first serious relationship, it seems like. Eddie wants to be protective, but he doesn't want to scare the guy off. He doesn't want your daughter to hate him.
A loud knocking knocking at the front door tells you he's here. Before you could even leave the kitchen to answer it, Eddie somehow is already there.
He swings open the door and is met with a guy not much taller than him. He has short dark hair with a denim vest similar to his old one. Various pins and patches littered all over it. He was wearing an old Slayer shirt underneath with black boots.
Eddie eyed him curiously. "Whooo are you?"
"Oh, I'm um, Noah...Julie's boyfriend." He held out to his to shake Eddie's. His other hand held some flowers in it.
Foot steps come running up next to them both, and it took Eddie a moment to process who they belonged to.
"Dad, this is Noah." Julie took his hand and brought him inside.
"Right-nice to meet you." He finally shook his hand back as he walked past him.
Eddie was stunned. The second he saw him, he got instant flashbacks of when he was younger going to meet your parents for the first time. He wanted to hate the guy. He wants to be this tough, hard ass to him. But now he can't bring himself to do any of that.
"Eddie, come help me with dinner." You whispered.
"Yeah - Yeah, okay, I'm coming." He shook his head and smiled to himself.
"He bought me flowers." You pointed at the vase holding the bouquet.
"So i buy you flowers all the time." Eddie shrugged, still trying to keep up the facade that he doesn't like the guy.
He grabbed a knife and helped cut up some onions. He looked out the window in front of him and watched your daughter and her boyfriend outside. You stopped what you were doing to focus on them, too. You saw how Eddie's eyes had softened when Noah put a little buttercup flower behind her ear.
You and him instantly had memories flooding in from your earlier years as a couple. Where Eddie would find a pretty flower and put it behind your ear. Or how he would lay with you for hours looking up at the stars. You could see he was getting a little emotional about it. More memories of picnics together in the back of his van.
"You gonna cut those onions or keep zoning out?" You nudged him.
"Sorry, I'm ju- I'm just thinking." He spoke quietly.
You went over to him and rubbed his back. "About?"
"I'm supposed to be a dick head to him, but I can't bring myself to be that way" Eddie kept looking out the window, watching Noah with your daughter.
"Who said you had to be that way?" You looked out to where he was.
He shook his head. "No one... I'm just being over dramatic like usual."
After dinner was over. Noah and Julie were sitting on the couch together while Eddie was sitting in his chair. You were busy getting dessert ready for everyone.
"Hey dad, did I tell you Noah is in a band." Julie giggled.
Eddies face lit up. "No, you didn't. do you play?"
"Uhh, well, I used to drum, but now I sing." Noah informed him. He acted a little shy to even have it brought up so suddenly. He felt put on the spot.
He nods "I used to be in a band too."
"Really?" Noah moved a little closer towards Eddie leaving Julie behind at the other end of the couch.
"Yep, I used to play guitar and sing, actually." Eddie smiled and looked proud to be talking about his former band days again.
"I have some old stuff in my garage where my band "toured" for a bit and my old gear." He pointed behind him.
"Can we check it out?" Noah looked like a kid in a candy store when Eddie mentioned his old gear.
"Follow me," He grunted while getting out of his chair. His knees popped as he stood up. Years of hard work finally taking its toll on his body.
Julie just sat there watching her boyfriend and her dad, leaving her all alone in the living room. You were busy in the kitchen cutting cake and putting the pieces onto plates.
"Guys, dessert is ready!" You jogged to the living room to find it empty except for your daughter.
She rolled her eyes "they're in the garage."
You couldn't help but chuckle.
All day, you had anticipated this first meeting to be a disaster. Now you have your husband and your daughters boyfriend playing guitar together. You know Eddie didn't have a mean bone in his body. Even at his cruelest, he was still considered nice to most.
"Think dad likes him?" Julie crossed her arms, looking annoyed. She was being sarcastic. You could tell by her tone.
You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying hard not to laugh. "He hates him, I'm sure."
You could hear them both screeching from out back. Heavy metal loudly playing, and Eddie's old guitar plugged in. You and your daughter sat eating dessert, trying to drown out all the music. The night ended with Noah being invited back over next weekend. While Eddie was upstairs putting ice on his now sore neck. He forgot his age for a few hours and became that young twenty something man again.
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penny00dreadful · 10 months
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So does anyone remember that post that was like "Robin and Eddie meet when she does that thing that's like 'hello, please pretend you know me so I can get away from this person' then Steddie happens?" Because I do. I cannot for the life of me find it. If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please let me know so I can link it, this is very much not my idea, it's that persons idea but the brain worms got me so here we are. 🤷‍♀️
We found it! It's this post by @wynnyfryd Thank you Anon! Obviously I went in a different direction with it but this post was 100% my inspiration so thank you for helping me find it!
AO3 link for those asking! 🖤
Robin should be royally pissed off with herself right now. She would be if she wasn’t so damn scared.
That guy was still trailing behind her, no matter the twists and turns she’d taken down different streets trying to lose him and the only thing she’d gained from it was to get totally and completely lost. It could be something completely innocent, the guy might be coincidentally going in the same direction as her but she wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it meant keeping herself alive.
The distance between the two of them was slowly closing as she was followed through the dark and empty streets of the city, hoping, praying for some kind of shop or restaurant or something to make an appearance so she could hide inside but apparently Robin was able to find the one street in this city where everything was either closed for the night or boarded up.
Her heart was pounding in her ears and the beginnings of tears were starting to sting her eyes and all she could think of was how sick with worry Steve was going to be in the morning when he woke up to no missed calls, no missed texts and no Robin. She’d scoffed at him hours earlier when he’d offered to go to the ‘work thing’ with her but she'd told him she was a big girl and she could look after herself and not to be such a worrywart mom.
And now she had no idea where her phone had gone, if she'd left it behind or dropped it somewhere, no idea where she was and no idea of what she was going to do.
If she’d been a bit more present in her head she probably would have noticed the loud, braying, male laughter coming from just ahead of her and crossed the street to avoid them before it was obvious she was avoiding them. But as it was she could barely see straight through her tears and panicked tunnel vision while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the slowly encroaching guy behind her. She was practically already in the group’s space and one of them had definitely already seen her though he didn’t pay her any attention.
But even through her blurred vision and panic, she finally registered what exactly she was looking at. Four men standing around the entrance to what looked like the diviest of empty dive bars, chain smoking and being as loud as humanly possible, but that’s not what caught her eye.
Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. If Robin had to choose a group of men to approach, any kind of subculture would be the best option. They knew what it was like to be other. There was no guarantee these guys were safe, but they were probably safer than a group of frat boys.
The next thing that caught her eye that nearly made her cry in relief as she got closer were the patches and pins.
A rainbow ‘A’ against a black and white striped background pinned on one guys collar, a yellow-white-purple-black patch on another's arm, a pink-yellow-blue patch over the third guys heart and a progress pride flag pinned to the largest guys pocket.
Her people.
Without a second's hesitation she made a bee-line for them, planting herself firmly next to yellow-white-purple-black patch person who had a mess of thick light brown curls that reminded her of Steve’s hair. They fell painfully silent at her arrival.
The four of them blinked down at her, with her tearfilled eyes and wild aura of panic around her they were probably, understandably freaked out.
“Hi guys!” She called out to them, probably a little too loud, hoping her voice carried back to the fucker following her, tensing as she could actually hear his footsteps approaching now.
The guy with the longest hair and the pink-yellow-blue patch standing directly in front of her glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her. His face split into a wide warm grin, tapping her shoulder lightly.
“Hey girlie. We thought you weren’t coming, we’ve been waiting.”
The footsteps behind her audibly slowed down. Robin laughed, a little maniacally, keeping her frantic gaze on him, not daring to turn around. “Yeah, I uh- g- got sidetracked.”
“Eddie, what-”
Pink-yellow-blue patch guy, Eddie she supposed, slapped ‘A’ patch guy lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand, shutting him up as her pursuer passed them by, giving the group a wide berth.
“Hey, no worries. You’re here now, right?”
Pride patch guy kept his eyes on the guy who’d been following her the whole time, only looking away when he eventually turned the corner, disappearing into the night.
Robin immediately felt her posture slacken now that he was finally gone, the full weight of everything coming down on her. Her tears began to spill over and her whole body shook as hysterical sobs started to pour out of her body.
“I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I left my phone behind and I don’t know where I am. We only moved here a couple of weeks ago and I got lost trying to get away and- and-”
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Yellow-white-purple-black patch person squeezed her shoulder lightly, keeping their distance. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“We can call someone for you, if you want?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms tight like he was trying not to reach out to her, probably worried it would freak her out more. “Boyfriend or girlfriend-”
“Or romantic partner.” The person with their hand on her shoulder interjected lightly.
“Alright Baron from the Baronies.” Eddie snorted. “But fair point, Gareth. Romantic partner or friend or whatever?”
“Um,” Robin’s voice was still shaking. “I don’t… I’ve never been good at memorising numbers…”
“Me too, terrible at them.” Eddie smiled again, pulling his phone from his pocket. Robin’s fear and panic was almost entirely gone now even though she was still hiccuping and sniffling underneath their concerned gazes. They were all firmly keeping their distance, keeping any touches short and fleeting, not moving too suddenly, trying their best to make sure she knew they weren’t a threat and it was really helping her to start feeling safe again. “But we could try to find them online? Instagram or something?”
“Yeah. Yeah we could try that.” She wiped her eyes roughly against her sleeve as she shuffled over to Eddie’s side. “My best friend, Steve, he uh- he’s probably asleep and I don’t think you can call him if you don’t have him added…”
“You can send him a message.” Eddie replied easily, handing his phone over. “And if he doesn’t wake up, we’ll try something else.” 
“Don’t worry we’ll get you home.” ‘A’ patch guy smiled down at her while pride patch guy nodded along.
Robin sniffed again. “Thanks.” She was able to conjure up a small watery smile as she opened the app and found Steve’s profile, shooting off a quick message begging him not to freak out and explaining the situation as concisely as she could.
“Here.” She handed Eddie back his phone who glanced down at it for just a second before his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through Steve’s profile.
“Oh shit. This is your friend?”
Robin nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“He’s… he’s really pretty.”
That managed to pull a startled laugh from her. “Oh god, don’t tell him that, you’ll give him a big head.”
“Let me see?” Gareth asked, whistling low when Eddie turned his phone around showing a photo of Steve and Robin at their last pride parade cheering with the crowd, Steve with the pink-purple-blue of the bi flag smeared across each cheek and Robin with the pinks, oranges and white of the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders. “He is really pretty.”
Eddie snatched the phone back, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck off, Gare. I saw him first.”
Robin smiled again. “Any response from him?”
“Hm?” Eddie asked distractedly, scrolling through Steve’s photos before pride flag guy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Wh- oh, sorry!” Eddie frantically scrolled back up before clicking into his messages again and shaking his head. “Nothing yet.” He held the phone out to show her.
“Okay.”
“What’s your address? If he doesn’t respond, we'll find a way to get you there.”
“Uh…” Robin was drawing a complete blank, only able to remember her parents home address hundreds of miles away.
“Or tell us something nearby.” Eddie added, not missing a beat, clearly picking up on Robin’s lack of an answer. “What’s on your street?”
“Um,” she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her head, “there’s a couple of Chinese take outs, Asian food store, paint store… there’s… I think it’s a tattoo parlour? There’s designs painted on the window, a tower on either side. I think they’re from Lord of the Rings?”
“Inklings? Is that the place?”
Robin opened her eyes. Eddie was grinning at her conspiratorially. “That’s it. You know it?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I work there?”
“No way.”
“Way.”
Hope was starting to grow feathers inside Robin’s chest. She could go home, she didn’t have to stay out all night waiting for Steve to wake up and never let her out of his sight again, she could hug her best friend and drink coffee out of her favourite mug and curse at their finicky fridge and steal his hair products again. She could go home.
“Is it far?”
“Nah, only a few streets away. Ten minute walk, tops.”
“D’you- I mean… do you think you could-” Could she really ask them to walk her home after they’d already done so much for her? Would she be asking too much? Could she be putting herself in more danger?
“I can take you there if you want? Let you get back to your… Steve.” There was a slight blush dusting over Eddie’s cheeks. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t an ulterior motive involving her. If she wasn’t so wrung out and aching to crawl into her own bed she’d be thinking up teasing material to lambaste Steve with. But as it was, she was desperate to get home.
“Would that be okay?”
“Yeah.” Eddie replied, bright and easy. “It would just be me and you though,” he held his hands up in surrender, “and you can totally say no, like if you're uncomfortable or whatever. Gareth is Grant and Jeff’s ride home and you’re still on the clock, right?” He turned to Gareth towards the end of his sentence.
“Yeah, but I get off shift in about an hour so could come in if you wanted, wait around in the back room until then if you wanna go as a group?” They answered. 
“I think… I think I just want to get home.”
“Okay, cool. No worries I’ll get you there safe and sound. Here,” Eddie pulled his phone out again, “I’m gonna message Steve to let him know we’re on the way in case he wakes up,” he showed her the short message only sending it off when she gave a nod, “and I’ll get you to navigate just so we don’t get lost.” 
He handed his phone to her with the maps app open, directing them towards Inklings tattoo parlour. He was playing it off like an easy joke, instead of another way to assure her she was safe. He was making sure she knew exactly where he was taking her at all times, he was making sure she had the ability to call the police or whatever if he turned on her, he was making sure she knew he didn’t need or want her address if she didn’t want to give it. 
This fucking guy.
He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice Steve had ever made if it did go that way.
“I don’t know how to thank all of you, seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Grant smiled at her before hesitating. “Uh, I just realised we don’t have your name.”
“Oh!” She laughed at herself, feeling lighter. “I’m Robin.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Robin.” Grant held his hand out, shaking hers once she took it.
“Likewise.”
“And don’t worry about thanking us, just pay it forward, yeah?” Jeff said.
“Plus.” Gareth took on a nonchalant tone even though they had a smirk plastered over their face. “We’ll see you again at Steve and Eddie’s wedding.”
“Shut up!” Eddie scowled but didn’t hold onto it for long in the wake of Robin’s giggles.
She sighed once the giggles subsided, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I look forward to it.” She raised her hand in salute as the three of them headed back inside, turning to Eddie as he held his elbow out.
“Shall we?”
Robin tried to suppress her smile but took Eddie’s arm anyway. They only made it down one street and around one corner, Robin clutching tight to Eddie’s phone before he finally asked.
"So."
"So."
"Best friend Steve." Eddie twirled his rings around his fingers. "Is he…"
“He’s single.” She answered lightly. “But you might be arriving into his life at the wrong time. He’s recently sworn off men.”
“Well we’ve all sworn off men once or twice. Men are terrible.”
“Agreed.”
“Is it because of a bad ex?”
Robin threw her head back with a groan remembering the giant breakdown that had finally finally ended it. “Tommy was the worst. He’s the reason we even moved out here, there’s nowhere to get away from an ex in a small town, you know? They’re everywhere. I’m not going to go into what happened, it’s not my business to say but it was bad.”
Eddie nodded, his eyes down on the ground, running through everything in his head.
Robin could see the tattoo parlour up ahead, the glorious sight of their apartment building just a few buildings away.
“Do you think… with time… he could open himself up to men again?”
Eddie had such a tentative hope in his eyes, it was adorable really. Looking over him, she thought about the type of people Steve would constantly thirst over, blip in the matrix Tommy Hagan notwithstanding.
Lithe bodies with full lips and giant eyes, hair he could run his fingers through and something unusual about them. Something odd.
He’d never explicitly gone for someone so heavily into a subculture before but he’d never turned them down either. And based on Eddie’s job at the tattoo parlour and the way he was dressed, he almost definitely had some ink on him. That alone would be enough to make Steve swoon.
“I think he might. Will you walk me up?” Robin asked, holding the door to the building open, offering Eddie the same kindness under the guise of doing a favour that he had offered her so many times tonight.
“Yeah, sure.”
They’d managed to make it up to the third floor, walking down her hallway before Eddie’s phone started to ping incessantly.
She turned the phone over in her hand, looking at the screen. “He’s awake.”
Robin, where are you?
Are you okay?
I’m on the way.
Please be okay.
Their apartment door was flung open just as they reached it. Steve was standing there panting and terrified, his hair a mess, his glasses askew, his jacket and shoes thrown haphazardly over his pyjamas.
“Robbie.”
Steve slammed into her, holding her tight before immediately letting go to inspect her face and running his hands over her body, checking to see if anything was wrong.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”
“Steve.” Robin caught his fluttering hands in hers and squeezed, nearly crying out in relief just to have him with her again. “I’m okay. Eddie and his friends helped me.”
“Eddie-” Steve looked to the side, noticing her saviour for the first time. “You’re Eddie.”
“I’m Eddie.” Eddie gave him a short little wave and a dazzling smile that quickly dropped in shock as Steve pulled him into a crushing hug, his blush returning with full force.
“Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve-” Steve took a big breath in and loosened his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders. Robin saw his eyes slowly trail over his face before very briefly flicking down to the pink-yellow-blue patch then back up. “Come inside, the two of you. Can I get you anything? Tea? Decaf coffee? A glass of water? Like, literally anything to say thank you.” He asked, ushering the two of them into the apartment.
Steve caught Robin’s eye behind Eddie’s back and mouthed ‘oh my god he’s fucking gorgeous!’
Robin snorted and thought to herself ‘sworn off men, my ass.’
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ssinboo · 4 months
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Say Yes to me
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summary: You've been in love with Jeon Wonwoo since forever, and due to your family relations, you had hopes you'd marry him. Your only problem? he's getting engagement to someone else.
or
During his Engagement party, your childhood best friend and love of your life, Jeon Wonwoo, asks you to run away with him.
pairing: 1960s!AU - Childhood bestfriend! Wonwoo x F!Reader
word count: 10k (45~ minute read) – My longest ever!
warnings: unrequited crushes and overall foolishness, idiots in love, best friends to lovers to not lovers to lovers again, some angst?, Wonwoo is such a nerd, making out in dingy motels, unrealistic mileage for gasoline, seokmin being the sweetest
a/n: This will most certainly be my last fic of the year! So, Happy Holidays everyone! This year has been so troublesome, but I've grown so much and written a lot more, too! I'm so, so grateful for everyone I've met and everyone that's enjoyed my stuff! See you in 2024!
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Had you been questioned, there would never be a concrete answer to the question of just how long you had been in love with Jeon Wonwoo. 
You’d know him forever, and maybe you loved him all along.
Your families were business partners turned friends. And there had always been talk of marriage between the children. Of course, for convenience. The Jeon’s produced top-class racing and sports cars, while your family were in the chemical business, specialising in industry paints and finishes, it was only natural to unite the two families and profit. 
Although your wealth was vast, it was nothing compared to the Jeon’s, despite always having the chance to frequent the same environments, you often found you were on different levels altogether. 
Jeon Wonwoo was the eldest son, and he carried himself as such — with all the poise and arrogance of the heir to a global conglomerate. He liked golfing and late night swims. Always took his coffee black with no sugar, and barely had anything for breakfast, preferring a hearty lunch instead. 
His younger brother, Lee Seokmin, was the result of an affair with a secretary, though that did not mean he was loved any less, no. Seokmin lacked a single mean bone in his body, he had a pure heart and a contagious laugh.  
They were by all means what people liked to call Irish Twins, born less than a year apart. And the nature of that fact only made their differences more apparent. Complete opposites they were, and that extended to how they treated you, too. 
Every summer growing up, your family would travel to the country house and you and your sister would spend the better part of the months at the club. Oh, how you loved the country club with the fun summer activities the clear chlorinated water, having a meal under the pool umbrellas and getting funny tan lines. 
But most of all, you enjoyed Jeon Wonwoo.
His family frequented the same club and every summer, you’d be practically glued to Wonwoo, even if he didn’t dare to pay you any attention.
You were only three years apart, yet he acted as if you were an immature brat. Seokmin had always been happy to play with you and your sister, though. 
More often than not, Wonwoo would lounge by the pool with a book, never daring to go in. And you would cross your arms over tile by the sides and try your damnedest to strike a conversation with him. He would ignore your every word, or worse, poke fun at your latest obsession. 
“Wonwoo, at what time where you born?” You ask, spitting out any chlorine filled water off your mouth. 
He arches an eyebrow, looking up from his book.
“What?”
“What time were you born?” You repeat, unbothered by his acidic tone.
“Why would I know that?”
“Can’t you ask your mum?” 
He rolls his eyes, “Why do you wanna know?”
“So I can see your birth chart,” You shrug, twirling a wet strand of hair around your finger. 
“The fuck is a birth chart?”
“It’s like… It’s a way to see your personality… And I can check to see if we’re compatible.”
“That’s stupid…” He rolls his eyes, again, “You’re stupid.” 
You scoff, “You won’t play along— You’re such a bore!” You yell out and dive back in the pool, leaving behind a cackling Wonwoo. 
Those hapless summer days were spent lazing by the pool with your sister and Seokmin — without a care in the world, laughing about nothing. With the isolated water-balloon fight every now and then. 
You’d grown up before you could realise it, never truly leaving behind your childish crush on Wonwoo. Even if by the age hierarchy, you had no chance of marrying him — Your sister were to marry Wonwoo and you possibly married Seokmin. 
Though you held hope, it crumbled away with every passing minute. 
But that year, your sister had the greatest early birthday present: She’d found the man she was to marry and best of all, your daddy could never say no to his girls. 
With your sister marrying the love of her life, it meant that you would marry Wonwoo, right? It was only a matter of time and you would be sworn to each other before God, your friends, and family. And your first love would blossom. 
On your 21st birthday, your father took you to work with him for the day, though you most lazed around and answered his calls. You only expected to have lunch for your birthday and a party on the weekend.
At noon, he drove to the Jeon’s factory to deliver the new paint samples. 
The workers, most of whom had watched you, your sister and the Jeon kids grow up, greet you excitedly and some even wish you happy birthday. Your father goes straight to the floor to speak to the manager.
Unexpectedly, Mr. Jeon himself shows up.
Mr. Jeon was a handsome old man a captivating smile, he was incredibly passionate about his work and adored mechanics, but he loved his sons above all — And he had great expectations for his boys. 
He greets you with a warm hug and wishes you a happy birthday before discussing business with your father. To which you busy yourself with staring at the pieces waiting for a coat of paint.
“Hey, baby, why don’t you come with us to the patio?” Your father calls and you oblige, skipping toward the two men.
The patio is where they stored their models waiting to be shipped out to agencies or sometimes, for the higher profile clients, directly to the customer. You look at the new line to be launched next winter: sleek and modern with leather seats and wooden accents on the interior. You could never criticise the Jeon’s for their taste, they knew their stuff. 
“Come here, baby,” Your father waves his hands, “What do you think of this car?” 
You study the convertible in a bright red with a cream leather interior; a classic. 
“It’s gorgeous, daddy, when are they launching it?”
“It should be out next year, but what do you think of the colour?”
“I like it,” You nod enthusiastically.
“That’s great baby, why don’t you read up on this model?” He hands you a tiny card, common in the factory, that has the model and batch number, as well as the signature from the supervisor. But just underneath the model, you see the colour name: your name.
As you look at your father, completely astonished, he just lets out a warm laugh and opens his arms for a hug.
“You named a shade after me?!” You glue yourself to him, still in shock. 
“Happy birthday, princess.” 
“Thank you, daddy, you’re the best!” 
“That’s your dad’s present, how about you open mine, now?” Mr. Jeon interjects, waving a tiny jewelry box in the air. 
You fix your hair and take it from his hand, expecting maybe a ring, or earrings. 
But you find brand new car keys.
Mouth agape, you look at him while your father can only laugh at your surprised expression.
“Why don’t you give it a spin?” Mr. Jeon encourages, rushing you toward the convertible. 
And though your father is beside himself with worry for you driving during rush hour, he settles for sitting in the passenger’s seat and doing some good old backseat driving, even though you barely make it past 30.
You drive around the block and return to the factory before your father has an anxiety attack over your driving. 
“Thank you so much, Mr. Jeon! When did you even do this?! I had no idea!”
“Wonwoo oversaw the whole thing, he’s the one you should thank,” He laughs it off, but your heart can only skip a beat at the mention of your beloved’s name. Especially thinking he was the one to take care of such a great gift.
Wonwoo loved mechanics as much as his dad, sometimes even more. He even went to a good college for it, coming back even smarter than before — and much sassier, too. He never stopped doing manual work in the factory, guaranteeing every car made was up to the Jeon standard.
And you were very biased toward his mechanic abilities, especially when he would furrow his brow, glasses perched on the very tip of his nose; he would wipe off sweat off his forehead with his grease covered arm. 
You remember to this day the last time your father came to discuss swatches and you stopped by the shop. Watching Wonwoo work on an older model with a leaky oil tank. 
He did everything himself, changed the tank perched under the car, soldering a brand new one. He also did a once over on anything else that could become a problem in the future, any filters needing change, checking wires and gears, making sure the oil was fresh. The problem came with the lights. He had such a hard time wiggling his thick arms through the machinery to reach the right spot, and you watched very intently how his triceps flexed, deep green veins bulging under his skin.
Wonwoo had gotten so frustrated he’d shed off the top part of his coveralls, sporting a white undershirt so tight you could basically tell the shape of his sweat-clad torso. Oh, how you’d hoped he never got that bulb in place.
“Come’ere,” Wonwoo calls out without further ado. 
“Why?”
“Need your help,” He mumbles under a sigh.
You rise from the barrel you were sitting on and approach the open hood. “With what?”
“Getting this fuckin’ bulb in place,” He hands you the tiny light bulb.
“Where do I need to put it?”
“See— in between this part, need to shove you hand until you reach back here in the light, then you just screw it in.”
“What if I get stuck?” 
“You won’t, you’re so petite,” He smirks.
You scoff, “Shut up.”
Leaning over the hood, you place your left hand on the chassis to steady yourself and shove your right hand in between gears and machinery, trying to find the spot he mentioned.
“I can’t find it,” You complain.
“Keep trying.”
“I am!”
“Here, deeper—“ He reaches for you, one hand on your waist and another on your arm, forcing you toward the place.
You’re way too focused on finding the damn spot for the light, that you barely notice the proximity at all. 
“Can’t find it!”
“Right, right— My right.”
“It’s the same freakin’ right, you idiot,” You hiss.
He laughs, “Fine, our right,” you groan at his stupid joke, “It should be there, try to bring it closer to you.” 
“Found it!” You squeal with a smile, screwing the bulb in its place. 
“Atta girl,” Wonwoo smiles. 
“There!” With a relieved sigh, you finally free your grease-clad hand from the machinery, slightly cringing at the black covering your fingernails — It’d be such a bother to clean it up. 
When you finally lean back, you stumble onto Wonwoo’s firm chest. Lucky for you, he catches you, steady hold at your waist. You’re finally aware of his proximity, to which he only smiles. 
Looking down at where his warm, tauntingly large hands meet your waist, you’re suddenly filled with nothing but rage. ‘
“You got grease all over my dress!” You whine, looking at the perfectly stamped print of his hand over your brand new summer dress. 
He only laughs, “Looks better this way, trust me.”
“Ugh!” You groan, stomping toward the washing area where they kept clean rugs. 
He closes the hood with a loud thump that echoes through the shop and slides into the driver’s seat. The car comes alive with a loud hum and ta-da! The headlight works. 
You are a little proud of your work, yes. But it’s not like you’ll show it.
“Do you not anything clean in here?!” You complain, eyeing the pile of grease-covered rags thrown in a corner. That had to be a fire hazard.
“What?�� Wonwoo shouts over the running engine.
You huff and stomp your way back to the car, throwing open the driver’s door. “I have a formal dinner to go to,” You state, leaning over the door.
“Okay, then go.” 
Rolling your eyes, you hold back any possible insults, “Like this?” You gesture toward your otherwise perfectly fine dress. 
He holds back a little mischievous smile, “I have some clean clothes in the office.”
Wide eyes, mouth hanging agape, you stare at him dumbfound, “I hope that’s a joke, Jeon Wonwoo.” 
He laughs, genuinely. That sweet, deep, dorky laugh of his that reverberates through his chest and plunges straight into your heart. 
“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
As much as he did tease you, Wonwoo never made short on his promises. 
“Is he around?” You ask Mr. Jeon, trying your best to suppress any expectations.
“Oh, he had some business… But he wished you a happy birthday.”
Your smile falters before your catch it, forcing the corners of your lips into a beautiful, rehearsed smile. “Let him know I’m grateful. For the wishes and for the amazing present.”
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It would soon be Wonwoo’s birthday and you had been preparing for what felt like ages. You got him a really nice set of electric work tools since he complained often about how the shop’s tools were always malfunctioning. But you did feel somewhat bad about only getting him a gift relating to work on what should be a day about him. 
So you caved in and got him a gorgeous wrist watch with classy black leather straps; on the underside you had his name inscribed with a heart. — You actually hadn’t planned for the heart, but the jeweller got confused in between so many orders and it was too close to the date to have it re-done. You hoped you could play it off in a cool manner, maybe he would laugh at your story.
The party would be held the eve of his actual birthday, and you arrived at the venue with hours to spare. Your father and sister are by the entrance, speaking to Mr. Jeon, you greet them.
“Hi, Mr. Jeon! Where should I put the gifts?”
“Oh—“ Surprised, he looks at your father, “You’ve brought gifts—“ He seems… surprised? As if it were so weird to bring presents to a birthday party. “Uh— I’m not sure, let me check with my wife where you could place those.”
You father nervously sips on his champagne, avoiding your sister’s burning looks.
“You haven’t told her,” Your sister turns to your father, “Why didn’t you tell her?”
“Tell me what?” You ask.
“Honey… This isn’t Wonwoo’s birthday party…” Your father speaks very slowly, gauging for your reaction at his every word.
Eyebrows raised, you question, “What do you mean?”
“It’s an engagement party, he’s getting engaged to Suzy,” Your sister rips the band-aid off.
And you feel the air being sucked out of your lungs at once, an agonising knot pulls at your throat and your nose stings with the threat of tears. The shopping bags fall from your hands and you fight off the urge to bawl your eyes out. 
Before you actually do cry your eyes out, you rush outside.
“Baby—“ Your father calls but you just storm off, not wanting to be near anyone. 
Engaged? Engaged!
Engaged…
Wonwoo was getting fucking engaged. 
With a bitch named Suzy who had the prettiest hair you’d ever seen and knew how to talk to investors and could speak a thousand languages. And worst of all, she was the kindest, sweetest girl ever. You couldn’t even hate her!
You weren’t even allowed that! As much as you weren’t allowed a simple heads up. How hard was it to tell you beforehand “Hey, the guy you’ve loved your entirely life is getting married to some girl and you just brought lemon pies to his engagement party, thought you’d want to know.”
Maybe you should’ve taken the pies with you, at least you’d have some comfort. 
You know what, what the fuck. Why didn’t Wonwoo tell you anything?! It had been barely a couple of days since you saw each other, why couldn’t he tell you? Were you not even worthy of that? 
Like having known each other your entire lives doesn’t make you worthy of such ”wonderful” news? How hard is it to tell someone in passing that you’re getting engaged! And now, you’re supposed to smile all night and pretend like your guts aren’t festering in rage and melancholy and your blood doesn’t run cold at the mere thought of Wonwoo walking down the aisle.
Giving it a second thought, maybe it wasn’t set in stone yet. 
It’s the modern times and even back in your parents’ days, engagements were broken off all the time! He might not marry Suzy. You might have a chance. 
Maybe you could ask— no, you could plead with your father to tell Mr. Jeon to think it all over. Wonwoo is still young, it’s not time to settle down just yet. He wanted to study abroad, he talked about the automobile industry in Europe with such amaze, and if that took a little longer, maybe Suzy would get tired of waiting?
Who were you fooling? You should’ve seen it coming.
Of course, he wouldn’t have married you, what were you thinking?!
He’s the Jeon’s precious firstborn and you’re… someone who can’t even tell apart the sizing in wrenches —  To top it all off, Suzy was notably great with mechanics. 
You really wish you had those pies with you, it would make your salty tears a little sweeter.
By the time you’re done sobbing in your car, you look a hot mess with runny make-up and swollen eyes. With a sigh, you pull out your purse and muster up any cosmetics that can save you for tonight. 
You could cry all you wanted at home, but right now, you needed to look pretty and have your pictures taken.
By the time you return, the party is to start and guests are gathering at the front, your sister immediately rushes to your side.
“Are you okay?” she whispers, soft hands reaching for yours. 
Forcing out a smile, “Of course! Who do you think I am?”
By the look on her face, you know she doesn’t trust your words not one bit, but will not pry at your emotions any further. At least not for tonight, you’re sure tomorrow she will grill you about this. But for now, you put on a bright smile and greet all the guests.
From the Jeon’s, Seokmin is the third to arrive, missing only by the birthday boy himself. But he immediately greets his parents and comes to greet your family.
“Hey!” You smile, putting aside your glass of champagne so you can hug him properly.
“How you doin’?” He asks, gorgeous smile on display. 
“I’m— Well—“
“They’ve told you then—“ 
You press your lipstick coloured lips into a thin line, “Yeah,” You nod.
“Shit.”
“Yeah,” You shrug, “I’m happy, Suzy is… a—“ Nice words. Nice words. “—wonderful girl.”
Seokmin offers you a sweet smile. “Let’s hope she can handle his tantrums,” he nudges at your arm.
“Oh, please!” You laugh.
Wonwoo was known for sometimes having a bit of a short temper, not often, by any means and maybe that’s what made them so memorable. Like the one time he couldn’t finish a puzzle during game night, so he gathered all the pieces and set the ablaze in the backyard.
“Or—“ A waiter passes by with a tray full of champagne and he so kindly grabs two glasses, offering you one. “Listen to this— He gets to the church, covered in grease from head to toe.” 
You laugh at the thought. Gods, how many times has Wonwoo decided to work on an engine while wearing his most expensive outfit? His mother nearly had a fit every time he would show up dishevelled and smelling like motor oil pretending like nothing’s wrong. 
“Please,” You sip at your drink, “I bet he’s gonna be all greased up tonight.”
Seokmin laughs wholeheartedly. He was the sort of guy to never hold back a fit of giggles no matter how inappropriate it may be, and it was certainly refreshing to know someone genuinely found your company enjoyable.
“For sure, I think her parents will freak out.” 
You nod. 
Tapping at your glass, you hesitate the following words, “Guess we’ll be the ones getting married for the family, then…”
You didn’t hate Seokmin, far from it. You loved him to bits— Not like Wonwoo, of course, you believed you would never love a man like you loved Wonwoo, ever again. 
He was funny, and such a gentleman. Not to mention, handsome, too. If you weren’t hopelessly in love with his brother, he would’ve been the perfect husband of your dreams. But he did deserve better than a wife who could never give him what he deserves. 
“Sorry about that,” Seokmin comforts you and that only makes your nose sting with the threat of more tears.
“Stooop!” You whine in a shaky voice and he’s overcome with worry.
“Hey— What’s wrong—?”
“Don’t be so sweet— I’m emotional tonight—“ You laugh at your emotional state, despite the teary-eyes.
“Are you a crybaby tonight?”
You nod, fanning your eyes in the hope of drying your tears before they can wash away your makeup.
Seokmin smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and you lean against his chest, fighting the urge to cry.
It’s only when you’re certain you won’t bawl your eyes out, that you respond. “It’s not that I hate you, you know I love you, but… You deserve someone that will love you like a husband.” 
He nods, “I know— But it might not be so bad, we’re friends! We’ll have sleepovers every day, and we’ll have Italian every night, we’ll watch those silly movies you like…” Seokmin lists off all the things you would do in your very platonic marriage and it doesn’t sound so bad. 
He knew exactly how you felt, he loved you, of course he did, you were so precious in his eyes, but not like a lover. 
You pull your face away from his chest to look up at him, “Are you gonna let me choose your clothes?” 
Seokmin sighs. You hated his questionable fashion since forever and in only very rare occasions did he accept your input, any other time and he assaulted your spirit with clashing patterns and silly shoes.
“Fine—!” 
You smile brightly, properly comforted. 
Before you can tease him any further, you spot Wonwoo entering the venue. Although he is immediately swarmed with congratulatory words, his shy nature makes it so his only response is always an awkward smile. 
He immediately spots you among the crowd.
You breathe in. In that moment, despite knowing he was sworn to another, that did not stop your heart from fluttering at the sight of him, his broad shoulders and the crooked tie he clearly put on a rush.
“Congrats, bro!” Seokmin is the first one to greet him, not letting go of your shoulder but instead pulling Wonwoo into a semi-hug. 
“Seokmin…” Wonwoo eyes his brother and then you, and then his brother again.
“Congrats, Nonu,” You smile, letting go of Seokmin’s comfort to reach for a hug. 
Wonwoo smiles, letting you cling onto his neck, your citric perfume seeping into his clothes and body. 
Oh, how his warmth could never compare to another. How you craved his affection like no other. 
“Thanks— Uh, did you bring me anything?” He asks in a teasing tone.
“Ey— Nonu!” Seokmin scolds his brother. 
“How did you know I brought you something?” You giggle, pulling away from the hug. 
Wonwoo shrugs. 
You reach for his crooked tie, straightening it to the best of your abilities. “I brought it earlier, but I think your mum took it to the back room,” You explain, focused on the tie.
He, however is focused on your concentrated face, parted red lips and furrowed brows. The proximity that lets him almost feel your chest pressed against his, as if extending the hug. 
“However, you, mister, have to greet your guests!” You scold, setting his tie in place.
Seokmin joins in, once again throwing his arm around your shoulder. “That’s right, mum already gave me an earful about how late you were— And I got here on time!” 
“Yeah— Yeah— You’re right,” Wonwoo nods.
“Liquid courage?” You offer your half-drunk glass of champagne and he downs it in one go.
You and Seokmin goof around a little more and gossip about certain guests behind their backs. Dinner is served and you all sit down to eat, Seokmin insists you sit beside him, which just so happens to also be next to Wonwoo. And you thank him for indulging you one last time.
Wonwoo is mostly quiet, but you were used to him not being rather fond of public parties, especially when all of the attention is on him. On his other side, sits Suzy, the blushing bride-to-be. She tries to make conversation with Wonwoo, though most of it falls flat, he only ever gives her monosyllabic answers and rarely contributes to discussions. 
That is until Mr. and Mrs. Jeon stand up, tapping forks to their glasses to call for everyone’s attention. The room quiets down instantly. 
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending our little gathering tonight,” Mr Jeon greets the guests. “We have some wonderful news we would like to share with you all.” 
“My beautiful son, how proud I am of you,” He adds, “Every day I am  amazed at your intellect. Often, I question just where did you get those smarts!”
Everyone laughs.
“You have grown into a fine man, and I can’t take credit for any of it. You are the most mature, talented, and intelligent boy and you did it all by yourself— ”
You can watch how Wonwoo’s eyes gloss over with tears. 
“I’m growing old, you know. And every father wants the guarantee that his children will be taken care of… That’s why I’m so relieved and happy to announce that my worries will soon be gone—“ He laughs but his son’s smile falters, “I’d like to announce the engagement of my son, Wonwoo, to this beautiful young lady named Suzanne. Welcome to the family, Suzy.” 
He raises his glass and soon, the room fills with uproar. Everyone claps and you join in, smiling toward Mr. Jeon and Suzy. She stands up, thanking everyone and raising her own glass.
But Wonwoo doesn’t move. 
“Nonu?” You whisper. 
In his ears all that can be heard is muffled screams of joy and the incessant acute ringing. He closes his fists so tight that his blunt nails almost break through skin, he doesn’t look at you, but it’s so clear something is wrong.
You and Seokmin exchange glances. 
Before you can call for him again, he stands up at once, the chair falling behind him with a loud bang that silences the room in an instant. In large and rushed strides, Wonwoo leaves for the patio. 
You stand up and follow him. 
“Wonwoo!” You call out, almost tripping over your party heels. 
He stands in the yard, hand gripping at his gelled hair while the other fights with his tie, pulling at the suffocating fabric until it slides down.
The yard is decorated with a gorgeous fountain, sound of running water somewhat soothing in this moment.
“Nonu, what’s wrong?” You whisper, a hand reaching for his heaving shoulder.
“What wrong?!” He yells back, shoving your hand away, “Did you not fuckin’ hear ‘em?!” 
You step back and his gaze somewhat softens, realising he just pushed you.
“You didn’t know…” You whisper to yourself, epiphany hitting you like a punch to the gut. How could Mr. Jeon do this?! Throw this on him without any previous warning?!
“You— You knew?” His voice is shaky, laced with the sharp sting of betrayal.
“I found it out myself tonight when I got here— I— I thought you knew! I thought you agreed to it!” You argue. 
“How— How can you think I would agree to marry someone—“ His words trail off in the night breeze, never to be finished. 
“Then— What will you do?”
“I don’t know!” 
You bite at your nails, finding a concrete surface to sit on and ponder. 
“I must leave—“ He speaks out, “Run away with me—“
“What?!” you stand up.
“Let’s leave, drive somewhere— Wherever! I can’t stay a moment longer in this place.” 
Oh, what a dilemma it was.
Abandon an engagement party with the groom-to-be, leaving behind furious parents and confused guests. And part of you knew that, despite your family’s closeness and no matter how much your father claimed you were all very close like family, driving off in the middle of the night with a committed man was a blow to any respectable, single, young ladies.
What a dilemma it could’ve been if you weren’t so enamoured with this man you would beck at any given call of his.
“I’ll get my bag and tell your parents you want to stay out here for a couple of minutes,” You announce and he nods.
As you walk back into the venue, all eyes are on you.
“He’s got the wedding jitters, everyone, not to worry. Wonwoo will return after he’s had a bit of fresh air,” You announce with a smile and all guests return to their previous activities.
But Mr. Jeon immediately corners you.
“What is he thinking?!” He half-yells, half-whispers.
“He’s just nervous, it’s a big bit of news…” You lie through your teeth, “I think a little heads up would’ve helped, you know he doesn’t do well with surprises.”
The man sighs, “He wouldn’t ever agree to it. I’ve offered him countless girls to marry and he never accepts any of them.“ Mr. Jeon looks at you and then sighs. “Do me a favour, convince him to come back, will you?”
“Yes, sir,” You nod and head off into the back rooms.
Unbeknown to you, Seokmin is on your trail and he waits until you are in the back lounge, gathering your bags and jacket to close the door and corner you.
“What the hell happened?”
You jump at the sudden intrusion, “You scared me!” You whisper.
“Sorry,” He whispers back.
“He didn’t know!”
“What?!” He says in a normal tone, soon realising just how loud that was. 
“What I said, I think your dad set up a trap… He knows Wonwoo won’t go against his word.”
“Shit. What are we gonna do?”
“He wants to run away,” You announce.
Seokmin looks at you, and then at the purse hanging from your should and the jacket in your hands. 
“And you’re coming with him?”
“I can’t leave him alone, not tonight.”
“And where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” 
“And when are you coming back?”
“I don’t know.”
“You are coming back, right?”
“I have no idea, Seokmin,” You realise, but the prospect doesn’t scare you as badly.
He scratches at his head. “Leave through the kitchen, I’ll hold off my dad. Make sure to give me a call once you guys are… I don’t know— Just give a call, will you?” 
You nod, pulling him into a hug.
Doing as he instructed, you pass through the kitchen staff and rush through the backdoor, unseen by the guests. Wonwoo is sitting on a concrete bench, his head between his hands.
“Ready?” You call out.
Wonwoo looks up, nodding before he rises to his height. You offer him a comforting smile and reach for his hand. 
Once you get hold of his hand, you bolt across the yard toward the parking lot. He almost stumbles over his lanky legs, but catches up rather fast. You throw your stuff on the backseat and enter your car, Wonwoo decides to jump over the door. 
You laugh at his antics with a shake of your head. 
Once your heels are discarded, you start the engine and drive off, leaving behind that dreaded engagement party. Wonwoo busies himself with shedding his formal wear, throwing his tie on the floor and removing his blazer. 
In any other occasion, this could’ve been such a lovely late-night drive, just the two of you in your beloved car, night breeze caressing your faces with her ice-cold kisses, cruising through deserted roads, barely a soul in sight except for the night owls.
And you might allow yourself to enjoy this moment.
The silence isn’t a bother, no, Wonwoo was always a man of comfortable silences to you, but this once, you’re worried about goes on in that busy mind of his.
“You alright?” You ask, looking away from the road to steal a glance or two at him.
“Yeah,” He replies.
“Truly?”
“No,” He scoffs at his own lie. “But I’ll be.”
You nod. 
You drive out of town and on the interstate roads for ages until Wonwoo finally speaks up. You’re completely engulfed in darkness except for your headlights.
“We should stop soon and have a rest.”
“Okay,” You nod, “Any preferences?”
“Anywhere.” 
And so you tell him to keep his eyes peeled open when a sign on the road says there should be a motel in the next couple KM. It doesn’t take too long before you’re pulling into the parking lot of a roadside motel, much of a far-cry from your expensive hotels and luxury living. 
You check in at the front desk with an old man who seems very unhappy with his life, he short of throws the keys your way. 
The room is… surprisingly nice, given the circumstances of the ambience. Only problem is the, although quite large, singular bed. You exchange glances.
“Shit,” Wonwoo curses, “I’m gonna 
“You wanna get hit?” You joke, “He’s minutes away from killing us over this room. We can just share the bed.”
He looks at you with wide eyes. “I’ll sleep in the tub.”
Oh, he certainly seems to hate the idea of sharing a bed with you, huh.
“Nonu, please, it’s late and we’re both tired. It will be just like when we were kids,” You explain, setting aside your stuff.
Wonwoo nods, sitting on the strangely comfortable bed.
“You think they have robes?” You ask, looking around.
“Wouldn’t bet on it.” 
“Oh, I’d kill to get out of this dress,” You whine, running to the bathroom to check for anything you could wear instead of your dress. 
He just bites at his lips, watching you pace from side to side in that tiny bedroom. 
That’s when you remember your forgotten shopping bags sitting in the trunk! Your compulsive shopping habits just saved you from a very uncomfortable night’s sleep, how convenient!
“I think I have some clothes in my car,” You announce, grabbing the keys and heading toward the door.
“Wait, you’re going by yourself? let me go with you.”
“I don’t wanna lock the door, though,” You whine.
He sighs, “Stay here, I’ll go.” 
You jump, “Thank you, Nonu!”
While Wonwoo rummages through your trunk and pulls out the surprising large amount of shopping bags, you shed off your clothes and head toward the bathroom, dying to get some hot water on your body, put on your new PJs and doze off. 
When he returns however, he is greeted by a sight any other man would die to see. You’ve left a trail of clothes from the bed toward the bathroom door. Starting on your pretty dress, splayed out over tiled-floor, and then your tights and then your underwear, matching, too— 
He clears his throat. “I’m back!” 
But you probably don’t hear him through the running shower, so he just sets down the bags and avoid the sight of your clothes. He decides to turn on the tiny TV and browse through any late night re-runs. You take only a couple of minutes in your shower.
“Nonu?” You ask from the bathroom.
“Yeah?” He turns down the TV.
“Did you find the clothes?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you bring me something to wear?” Wonwoo gulps. 
“Uh— Which one?”
“There should be a light blue bag and a pink one.” 
“Okay—“ He stands up and searches for the aforementioned colours. 
Wonwoo heads to the bathroom door and leans against the wall, facing away from the door. He knocks once. You open the door and shove your arm through, reaching for the bags.
“Thank youu!” 
He returns to the boring TV. Though all he could think about was the sight of your wet supple skin, knowing you were bare with only a thin sheet of plywood separating you. 
You leave the bathroom smelling of cheap soap and fresh into your brand new nightgown. It is tentatively short with an almost see-through round of lace over the hems. In your defence, you weren’t planning on showing this nightgown to anyone anytime soon. 
Sitting on the bed, you look around the room, not noticing how Wonwoo’s eyes don’t really meet yours or how red his ears seem to burn.
“Aren’t you gonna shower?” You ask.
“Feels a bit redundant to shower and get back into my dirty clothes.” 
“I think I might have something for you, if you don’t want to sleep in a suit,” You pry.
Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, “I’m listening.”
“But you can’t judge! I bought this for my dad because you know he deals very poorly with the heat— And he never buys himself anything!” You’re explaining yourself in advance because you remember very well what you bought.
Silky boxer shorts and a tank top, which your father loved to sleep in on stuffy summer nights but you doubted would be Wonwoo’s first choice of wear, ever.
He haggles with his own mind; give into the silky boxer shorts or sleep in the most uncomfortable outfit ever. With a tired sigh, Wonwoo accepts his fate and grabs the bag. 
You smile as he stomps toward the bathroom with a defeated frown.
By the time he returns, you’ve cleaned up your trail of clothes and made yourself very comfortable in the bed. You turn your head to face him.
God, he could make a potato sack look good. 
“How’s the fit?” You pull your eyes away before you look for too long. 
Wonwoo shrugs, “I’ve had worse.”
You laugh.
He coyly joins you in bed, keeping a large gap between your bodies, settling on top of the covers while you’re under their warmth. 
“Ain’t you cold?” You ask, fidgeting with the TV remote. 
Wonwoo shakes his head, leaning back into the headboard. With a pout, you cross the figurative bridge between the two of you and reach for him. He doesn’t shy away from your touch but it visibly confused.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, hands hovering in the air, far away from your exposed back.
“I’m sorry your birthday party sucked,” You murmur against his chest, Wonwoo smiles softly, letting his hands rest on you.
“It didn’t suck in its entirety,” he says, palms slightly tapping at your back, “it was fun running away with you.”
You giggle at his comment, heart fluttering at its meaning, “What are we going to do? About the engagement, I mean…”
“We?” He raises an eyebrow.
You pull away from him.
“Well— You dragged me into this!” You slap at his chest and he lets out a boisterous laugh that almost manages to pull the corners of your from into a smile.
“I know, I’m taking the piss out of you,” He extends his arms, pulling you back to your previous position, resuming the soft caresses he leaves on your arms. “I don’t know— This is the first time I’ve ever gone against my father.”
You sigh. “Don’t you wanna marry Suzy?”
There’s a pause and oh, you’re begging, wishing to hear the words you want most.
“Fuck no!” Wonwoo exclaims and you fail to hide your excitement.
“She is pretty,” You throw the bait, to pry at his true feelings.
“So is your sister, should I just marry any pretty girl?”
You raise from your position, eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. Wonwoo looks at you, completely clueless to his words and its consequences.
“What the hell?!” 
“What?” 
Kicking off the covers in a flurry, you kneel on the bed, staring at him dead in the eyes.  “You have the hots for my sister!”
It’s Wonwoo’s turn to get angry, “What?! No— You’re twisting my words—“
“I’m twisting your words?! You just said you think my sister is pretty!” 
“Because she is!”
You jaw drops, you can’t believe he is doubling down. “Wow,” you shake your head. 
“What’s wrong with saying that?”
You shrug, turning away from him and crossing your arms. “I don’t know, why don’t you just go an marry my sister, then.”
Only then, does this thick-headed man you love so much realise he has been complimenting other girls without so much as telling you a single nice word — the bare minimum. He sighs and offers you a soft smile, shifting in the bed until he is near you again.
“I don’t want to marry your sister. I think she is pretty, but she’s not the prettiest sister, you are.” He waits for your reaction.
Hook, line and sinker. 
You turn around immediately, a hint of smile playing in your pretty lips. 
That’s enough for him to break into a wide smile, opening his arms to welcome you back into his warmth. You crash into his chest, wrapping yourself around his torso. 
He groans, falling back into the mattress but not letting go of you.
Minutes pass before you speak again. “It’s past midnight…” You whisper.
“It’s well past midnight… Why?”
You shift upwards until your faces are only inches apart, breath tickling his lips, your beautiful eyes gleaming under dim motel lighting. “Happy birthday,” You whisper between smiles, “Make a wish.” 
Wonwoo breathes in, eyes scanning your face, “There’s one thing I want…” 
“What is it?” 
If he said it out loud, he might’ve lost all courage to do so. 
So he just does it, Wonwoo leans forward until his lips meet yours in a chaste kiss. 
It probably lasted a couple of seconds, but those seconds felt like a lifetime when you were finally kissing the man you’ve loved for god knows how long. There’s a spark of electricity that burns bright from the moment your lips touch and travels through your body, blood boiling in excitement, shyness, and pure love. 
When the kiss ends, Wonwoo studies your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. Which is even more worrying when you’re standing there, froze solid with an empty stare.
But thankfully, before he can say anything, you throw caution into the wind. 
You pull him into a kiss. Throwing every sense of morale and shame you had out the damn window. He was a man sworn to another, for Pete's sake! But here you here, crashing your lips into his perfect, soft ones. 
Wonwoo lets out a quiet groan, almost inaudible, but you hear it, oh yes, you do. And it runs straight through your chest and down to your core. 
Although the sensible, rational part of your brain tells you to quit kissing him at once and just apologise, the other 99% of your brain, who’s been in love with him since forever, wants nothing of the sort. And you might have listened to the not-so-rational part of you, because you just deepened the kiss, shifting your weight until you’re partially on top of him.
Your lips move against him, shyly exploring this kiss, engraving every moment into your memory. 
Yet he reciprocates. His warm hands finds your waist, holding you flush against his torso, heartbeats thumping completely in-sync. You wrap your arms around his neck and he takes the chance to pull you deeper into those dangerous lips of his. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, licking and twirling against yours, hot and eager. 
He dips his head, one hand reaches to tangle into your hair and manoeuvre you around, allowing himself complete freedom to explore every bit of your mouth. 
Wonwoo kisses like no other. Not that you had too much of a repertoire to compare him to. 
But he consumes your lips with an unbound hunger, nothing similar to the calm and collected Wonwoo you knew, no. He’s hungry, messy, and very clumsy, clashing teeth one too many times, letting saliva drip down your chins and struggling to move with you on top of him.
When you part the kiss, you lay there breathless, gazing into his ridiculously beautiful beady eyes and long eyelashes, his handsome sharp nose and the most kissable lips you’ll ever see.
 It was breathtaking, mind-blowing and nothing like you’ve ever felt before. Your heart beats so fast you feel as if you might pass out at any moment but you’d die before you give up experiencing that again.
“What was that?” He whispers and his breath tickle your kiss-swollen lips. 
“Your birthday gift,” You bite at your lower lip. “Did you like it?”
Wonwoo smiles, breathless and half-lidded and your heart damn near bursts. “I did. Did you?”
You nod.
He nods. “Wanna do it again?”
You nod and he gives you that stupidly handsome smile of his.
And once again, you’re attached at the lips. This once, nothing like before, which you though impossible. It’s so much more desperate and it burns, it boils your blood in absolute desire. It leaves you light-headed, it wipes away your cognitive thoughts and leaves behind a foggy cloud of barely strung-together words that only translate into wanting more. More of him. 
You sigh into the kiss and he drinks it all up, he consumes everything you give him with erratic hands and eager tongue. 
Wonwoo leaves your lips and you whine with a breathless sigh of his name, almost chipping at any resolve he had left. But he nips at your neck nonetheless, warm, wet tongue trailing along your skin, making you twitch in his arms with the most delectable little ‘yips’ of surprise. 
He bites, feral and determined; determined to make his claim, to leave behind his mark on your body, to indulge in carnal pleasure without a prospect of tomorrow, letting everything else be a construct beyond these motel walls, away from where you laid. Away from this reality where he had you in his hands and you moaned his name with a soft smile.
Practically tearing your nightgown, he pulls the silky fabric just enough until your tits spill out of its confine. Wonwoo sighs at the sight, fingers trailing the contour of your boobs, raising goosebumps along sensitive skin. His eyes are burning in adoration, the most depraved glaze of hunger hidden behind sheer excitement. 
He dives in, hands kneading at the flesh, squishing soft skin. 
Slender fingers caress your aereolas, running fingernails along your nipples in curiosity, watching you squirm and bite at your lips as your nipples begin to perk up. 
And when you thought he was done, Wonwoo attaches his mouth to your nipple, sloppily running his tongue around it before he sucks. He makes sure to let his teeth graze, just to watch you jump.
All while his other hand makes work of your unattended boob, your attention is so thinly divided between his teasing fingers and his hot tongue and the sweetest, most satisfied groans that erupt from his throat. 
Your face burns and you bite at the back of your hand, shoving down every stubborn moan that tries to make it past; but he won’t have that, no. Wonwoo reaches for your arms, pinning them above your head without so much as pulling away from your tits. 
Mindlessly, you’ve been rocking back and forth against him, chasing a gut feeling you’re unsure of but desire more than anything ever. And without realising, you’ve been teasing him just as much as he has you, which is clear by the volume contained by his shorts. 
He wishes he could ravish your breasts all night, but any more of your squirming and he will come undone without so much as a touch from you. 
Wonwoo pulls away, hands once against finding your waist as he pulls you back to his chest.
“You know what comes next, don’t you?” He whispers against your lips, half-lidded, lust-filled eyes gazing so deep into your own. 
“I— I’ve never done it before,” You confess.
And something stirs within him, to know he is your first, the first and only man to every touch you this way, to trace his lips over your gorgeous body, to settle inside of you. 
Wonwoo smiles and kisses your nose, “I don’t care… But only if you don’t care that I haven’t either.”
You’re surprised, to say the least. 
Kissing in between smiles, you raise to your knees, letting him tug at the hem of shorts just enough to free his cock. 
It’s nothing like you’ve seen before and unlike the illustrations you remember from school. It’s red and veiny and it glistens with pre-cum under the dim lighting.
But it’s a part of him and you can’t help that your belly stirs at the sight of him stroking himself. 
When you reach for the hem of your nightgown, his hands stop you.
“Keep it on—“ He whispers.
“Why?”
“We’ve got all night to take it off,” He runs his tongue through his top teeth with a side smirk and you almost smack him up the head for being such a little shit.
As he asked so kindly, you bunch up your nightgown around your waist, hips circling around his warmth, meanwhile he’s playing with the flesh of your love handles, kneading and running his fingers over your skin. 
“Ready?”
You nod. He raises your hips and lets you control the pace, you feed in his cock, centimetre by centimetre, feeling it’s girth tear at your walls with an unimaginable sting, it burns hot and heavy in your hands.  
Crashing onto his chest, you cry out a pained yelp.
Wonwoo run his fingers over your back, kissing the top of your head, his eyebrows are bunched up, face painted with worry.  “We can stop— Let’s stop—“
“No!” you raise your head and he can see the tiny droplets bundling around your eyelashes, “Just gimme a minute!”
So you sit there, his cock half-in, pulsing angry red and throbbing under the  tease of warmth and tightness. Especially when you look so breathtakingly gorgeous, he gulps, leaning back against the headboard, urging his mind to be strong. 
It takes you minutes to get used to it, to slowly let the size settle until your muscles are well and accustomed to it and then you start it all over again, feeding the remaining inches until he’s bottomed out. 
And oh heavens, how utterly full and hot you felt. Despite the stinging pain, part of you wants to chase the pleasure, clenching in sheer hunger. 
Wonwoo stares up at you, looking for any signs of discomfort but he is met with the most enticing, beautiful, and tempting creature he’s ever laid his eyes upon. Your eyes are glassy with tears, but you’ve got a determined look on your face with a hint of a smirk that sends shivers down his spine and up his cock. 
“Shit,” He curses out with a smile, leaning back and rutting into your hips only to watch your eyebrows furrow and your mouth gape, a moan threatening to escape. “Ready to move, pretty girl?”
You breathe out, “Yeah.”
Steadying yourself against his chest, you raise your hips, feeling his absence leave you upsettingly empty until you let your body crash back down, his cock impaling you with its warmth once again. You rock against him, shallowly, though the motion is unbearably teasing, even for you. 
Wonwoo lets out an obscene, strained moan, fingernails digging into your waist, but you’re too focused on rocking your hips to notice. How he wants nothing but to piston his hips into your pussy like there is no tomorrow, he relishes in the feeling of your warmth, tight and gummy around his throbbing member. 
And he finds you might be just as insatiable as he is, especially when you’ve found yourself a steady pace, bouncing up and down, and his name pours out of your lips in such a beautiful manner. Though he can’t just let you have all the control, can he?
“Oh—“ You yip, “Feels so— Good—“ Still unsure of your thought, you explore the feeling, rolling your hips, feeling him stretch your wider, fill your insides and leave you full like you’ve never felt before. 
His hips meet yours half way, chasing your cunt every time you leave and pounding into you when you come back down, filling the room with guttural groans and the lewd sound of skin against skin. 
You run your fingers under his shirt, feeling bare, warm skin, the softness of his flesh against your hands, the definition of his pecs and the way his nipples peek through the fabric. Wonwoo groans at the way your manicured nails scratch at his chest, gathering momentum as you bounce yourself on top of him. 
He notices you’ve started moving faster, practically fucking yourself stupid on his cock and he would tease you halfway through tomorrow if he didn’t find himself in such a similar predicament. His pupils are blown wide, eyebrows furrowed across his brow, pretty lips hanging agape. You’re so utterly perfect and you were all his. 
“Tell me how you feel, baby,” He whispers, slowing down for a second. 
You sigh, nuzzling against his neck, “So good— I can’t even describe it—“ Your words are so airy and mindless, you’ve been consumed by the pleasure he gives you.
He catches the sight of the white rim that pools around his member, a mix of your juices, but it’s gone, sheathed inside you before he can admire it. There’s a poisoning thought that flashes in his mind, a fleeting, tempting picture. Of planting his seed in your womb, watching your grow full with child, his child. How absolutely breathtaking you would look, round cheeks and gorgeous smile, pretty fingers caressing your bump. And he would taint your taut stomach with his cum, watching it drip over your skin.
Wonwoo bites his lips so hard it breaks skin, throwing his head back, willing his mind somewhere else, anything else lest he come undone right then and there. 
Stomach tingling with indescribable pleasure, you lean forward, moaning incessantly, unable to contain your ecstasy. He supports your body, wrapping strong arms around your torso, firm hands planted on your hips, taking over the moving so you can lay still and let the buzz consume your body with its electric touch.
It’s a feeling you’ve never felt before, and it crashes over your body in a colossal wave, building up from the pit of your stomach; sending tingles rushing through your boiling blood. 
You raise your head, eyes meeting his and it seems he is familiar with this pleasure. His left hand meets your face, caressing your cheek, yet holding you still so he can gaze, he can watch you come undone around him. 
Wonwoo watches, unblinking, how your eyebrows furry, your eyes are glossy with tears that cling to your pretty lashes, your lips sit in an enticing pout. Yet you part them, letting out increasingly louder cries of his name. 
And you clench around him like there is no tomorrow, egging him on. He thrusts up into you, riding out your orgasm and chasing his over the edge. 
He crashes his lips into yours, savouring your hazy kiss, your tired sighs and it doesn’t take long before he’s spurting hot white strings into you, it trickles down him and stains the silk fabric of his boxers. 
Soon, he stills all movement except for heavy breathing and the soothing circles he runs over your exposed back. 
He kisses your hair. “How do you feel?”
“Good,” You breathe out, “Tired. But good.” 
His chest shakes with a soft chuckle, he runs slender fingers along your hairline, fixing any hairs that cling to sweaty skin. “Me too.” 
“It felt amazing,” You smile, raising your head to face him. “I’ve never felt anything like it.”
Wonwoo hums. 
“I’m glad it was you, Nonu,” You hid your face against his neck in embarrassment at your own mushy words, but Wonwoo feels their extent, hiding the blush of his cheeks. 
It doesn’t take long before the post-orgasm haze lulls you into sleep. 
And you slept like never before. 
The following morning, Wonwoo wakes up to an empty bed. He panics for a second or two, scrambling to look for your belongings, only to find everything is still there.
Calm, he washes himself up and gets dressed to leave. Finally having a moment to digest the previous night’s events. 
He had made up his mind, he would confront his father. His future was his to decide on. 
Looking for you, Wonwoo reaches the foyer, only to see you leaning against the wall, attached to the payphone. When your eyes meet his, you immediately say your goodbyes, ending the call.
“Who did you call?” Wonwoo crosses his strong arms against his chest and you try to ignore the sight of his muscly forearms peeking from the folded sleeves.
You don’t like his tone. “Seokmin.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why did you call him?”
“I promised I would,” You shrug. 
Wonwoo can’t believe you would call Seokmin out of everyone, especially after you were glued to him last night at the party. “Why him?”
“He’s worried about you, you stupid— Stupid—“ You choke out on any mean names, simply stomping away from him. 
Why was Wonwoo being so mean so early in the morning? You thought after the amazing night you spent together things would change between you.   Stomping your way back to your room, you grumble under your breath.
While you’re folding your clothes, Wonwoo comes back. 
“I’ll talk to my father,” He announces. 
Before you can say anything about that, he continues. “We’ll get married— You and I, I mean— ” He clears his throat, “Will you marry me?”
Like a deer in headlights, you’re frozen, staring at him big-eyed with a dopey smile on your lips. 
“You’ll marry me?” You question, just in case you’ve tricked yourself into hearing the words you’ve wanted most. 
“Yes. And I— I’ll take full responsibility—“
You smile crashes into the ground. “You want to marry me out of… Responsibility?!” The words choke you on their way out. 
Wonwoo furrows his eyebrows, not understanding why you would be upset. “Do you not want to?”
“No, I don’t want to fucking marry you!” Not like that.
His face falls and he assumes a much scarier look on his face. “What would you rather marry Seokmin, then?”
And in your fury, you blurt out “Yes! Yes, I would rather marry him!”
You realise your rejection hurt him, you do. But you’re so blindsided by your anger you can’t bring yourself to care, not when he sees you as a responsibility. 
Wonwoo is suddenly not so angry, but indifferent. You watch his expression go away, replaced by one much scarier, in your opinion; nothing. A plain poker face. 
“Gather your things and go to the car.”
It’s all he says before he leaves the room. 
The ride back is the most nerve-racking hours you’ve ever experienced. Wonwoo is silent, even you huff and puff under your breath, angrily chewing on your breakfast of vending machine snacks. 
Though he says one phrase as you reach the city. “Leave me here.” 
And that’s the last you saw of him for over a month. 
Your previous anger dries up, turning into sadness. Then you’re furious. And heartbroken until you’ve accepted your reality. You’ve ruined your friendship and lost the love of your life.
It takes your sister plucking you out of bed for you to finally leave your bedroom in weeks. 
She was the first and only person you’ve told about the night spent with Wonwoo. Your parents were absolutely furious that you’d do something so dangerous, though relieved at your safety, they weren’t easy on their words. 
“He’s not doing well, you know,” You sister says. 
You humph. 
“I’m serious. Daddy said he’s clumsy, keeps messing up his work. I think you should go and see him.”
Closing your eyes, you let out a worrisome sigh. You still cared way too much to hear those news and not do something about it. 
So you dress up in whatever you can find and drive to his shop, building up a speech on your way there and practising every scenario. You just hoped everything could go back to the way it was. 
He’s working on an old model, hunched over the hood in his light blue coveralls, stains of grease from head to toe. 
“Knock knock,” You announced your presence, fidgeting with the hem of your dress, looking forward to meeting his eyes as much as you dread to. 
Wonwoo immediately recognises your voice, turning around to meet your eyes. 
And he looks just as wrecked as you felt. Deep-set eye bags and a tired gaze. Yet he still smiles just as handsomely. 
“Hey,” He greets. 
“Busy?”
“No! No,” Wonwoo scrambles, placing the wrench down removing his gloves. 
“Can we talk?”
“Yeah, I actually— I wanted to talk to you, too.”
It’s somewhat relieving as well at it’s worrying to hear him say that, it could be an apology as well as an insult or something of the sort. 
“We should— We should go to my office, someone might come in—“
“Yeah— We should.” You nod.
You walk into his office, one you’ve visited and killed time in quite often. But coming here after everything feels so crushing, all this distance between you. 
“Go ahead—“
“You first—“
You both say at the same time and that seems to ease the stubborn awkwardness pooling in the air. You laugh. 
“How about we say it together?” 
“On 3?”
“1”
“2”
“3”
Breathing in, you say the words that come to your mind from the bottom of your heart. 
“I want to marry you.”
“I love you.”
“What?!” 
“What?!” Once again, you both say it at the same time.
“You want to marry me?” He breaks into a wide smile.
“And you love me?” The words feel so alien to you, you can barely believe your ears, you feel the tips of your fingers shake in excitement, your heart pounds so strongly against your rib cage you can almost hear the thumping.
Jeon Wonwoo just said he loves you.
“I— Are you sure you want to marry me? You said you didn’t want to!”
“Yes. Well— I’ve loved you since forever! So when you said you wanted to marry me just out of responsibility— I was heartbroken! It’s like you were forced into doing it!”
“I didn’t want to marry you out of responsibility! I’ve been planning to marry you since the beginning—“
You choke, “You what?!”
Wonwoo sighs, “I never wanted to marry your sister and she was well aware of that… We were blessed that she found her husband and when everything went well, I thought— I hoped that it’d mean we’d be the ones to be wed.”
Processing every word, you almost feel dizzy. “But you said you’d take responsibility!” 
“For roping you into running away from my party.” 
“Oh.” You’re beyond embarrassed for assuming and above all, for getting so angry you didn’t even let him explain himself. 
“I should’ve been clearer,” He admits.
“No— I should’ve talked to you.”
Wonwoo smiles. “Thank you.”
With tiny tears threatening to fall, you can only confirm what you want to know the most. 
“You love me?”
“Always,” He smiles.
Wonwoo seems to remember something, he raises his finger in a “wait” motion and leans over his desk, reaching for the top drawer. It’s only when you catch a peek of the velvet box that you almost keel over.
Gulping, he gathers his courage.
In his grease-stained coveralls that smells of expensive cologne and lavender cleaning supplies, Jeon Wonwoo gets down on one knee, nervously looking up at your with his stupidly gorgeous beady eyes and an expectant smile.
“Will you marry me?”
And in your least presentable dress, the one he’d ruined with grease stains and an unruly hairdo, you respond with the biggest smile:
“Yes. Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Had you been questioned, there would be an answer to just how long you will love Jeon Wonwoo.
You’ll love him forever. 
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1K notes · View notes
max1461 · 4 months
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Thinking about this post. "The only way to make a cell is from another cell" is somewhat of a troubling fact to me. I mean, not for any practical reason, just because it underscores the precarity of *gestures broadly*.
It's like, some people talk about trying to de-extinct the mammoth. And people are trying to sequence the genome of the mammoth, I don't know if they've done it yet. But even if they do, one of the problems with the idea of de-extinction is... to grow a baby mammoth, you need another mammoth! Last time I heard people talking about this, I think they were talking about using an elephant as a surrogate mother. But imagine if elephants were extinct too.
The point is that information is often tied to the systems that transmit it; even if you know everything in the mammoth genome, once all the mammoths are gone there's nothing capable of reading and using that information. Like when you can't read the data on a perfectly good floppy disk because your computer doesn't have a floppy drive.
This is related to why language death troubles me so much. Even the most well-documented languages aren't actually that well understood; linguists have produced more pages of work on English syntax than maybe any other specific descriptive topic and yet still the only reliable way to get the answer to any moderately subtle syntactic question is elicit native speaker data. We know almost nothing, we can barely extrapolate at all! And every language is like this, a hugely complex system that we know basically nothing about, and if the chain of native speaker transmission is ever broken it's just gone.
"Language revival", I mean from a totally dead language, is kind of a myth. It's like the "came back different" trope. In Israel they revived Hebrew, but Modern Hebrew is really not the same thing as Biblical Hebrew at all. I mean in a stronger sense even than Modern English isn't Old English. All the subtleties of Biblical Hebrew that a native speaker would have had implicit competence with died without a trace. All they left is a grainy image, the texts. The first generation of Modern Hebrew speakers took the rough grammatical sketch preserved in these texts and imbued it with new subtleties, borrowed from Slavic and Germanic and the speakers' other native languages, or converged at by consensus among that first generation of children. There's nothing wrong with that, but it would be inaccurate to imagine Biblical Hebrew surviving in Modern Hebrew the way Old English survives in Modern English. For instance, you can discover a great deal that you didn't know about Old English by comparing Modern English dialects. There is nothing you can discover about Biblical Hebrew by comparing Modern Hebrew dialects in this way.
There's nothing wrong with this, of course. I'm not like, judging Modern Hebrew. I'm just making a point.
Mammoths died recently, so we still have (some of?) their genome. Something that died longer ago, like dinosaurs, we have traces of them in the form of fossils but we could never hope to revive them, the information is just gone. Even if we're not aiming for revival, even if we just want to know stuff about dinosaurs, there's so much that we will never know and can never know.
We imagine information as the kind of thing which sits in an archive, because this is the context most of us encounter information in, I think. Libraries, hard drives. Well obviously hard drives don't last. And most ancient texts only survive because of a scribal tradition, continuous re-writing, not because of actual archival. So I think that imagining archives as the natural habitat of information is sort of wrong; the natural habit of information is in continuous transmission. Information is constantly moving. And it's like one of those sharks, if it ever stops moving it drowns. And if the lines of transmission are broken, the information is gone and can never be retrieved.
Very precarious.
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vaspider · 11 months
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Okay, let's try this without the errors and casual domestic abuse references and classism/racism!
All of the below may be worn "because I like how they look." When I say what they're worn for, I mean the intended practical intention of their design.
This is a compression tee or workout tee. They are usually made out of synthetic materials for moisture-wicking purposes. They are worn for exercise or workouts, to draw sweat away from the skin.
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This is a muscle tank. It is worn for working out (lifting weights, most often) or showing off one's muscles.
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This is a sleeveless tee. Note the different sizes of the armholes. This is pretty much just a fashion statement, two tickets to the gun show, etc. but sometimes worn at the gym.
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This is an A-shirt, ribbed knit tank, or fitted knit tank. In the US it may colloquially be called a "wifebeater," but that's classist, racist, and fucking gross, so knock it off.
Originally intended as an undershirt, may be worn as a primary shirt. Still worn as an undershirt by many men/mascs.
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This is a fitted tee. They come in crew necks (pictured) and v-necks, typically. These also started as undershirts and are often still worn as same, but now are often worn as casual shirts as well. The difference between one intended as a casual shirt and one intended as an undershirt is mostly just fabric weight.
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This is a tee shirt, also known as a heavyweight tee (a reference to fabric weight), loose-fit tee, or unisex tee. Intended as casual wear.
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This is a polo shirt. Usually worn fitted and tucked in as shown, unless being worn with shorts. This is a "dress casual" sort of shirt, the kind of thing a person might wear to a semi-nice dinner out with family during the summer, but it's also part of the work uniforms of a lot of working-class people now, so.
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This is a Henley or y-neck. Usually 3-5 buttons at the neck and made of cotton knit. This started as underwear too - a warm layer for winter - and is still used that way, often layered with camp shirts, chamois shirts or flannels. Also worn alone. These are pretty common chores/work shirts in my experience.
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This is a camp shirt or work shirt. It is made of broadcloth, denim, canvas, or another sturdy material. Worn either as an outer layer unbuttoned over a tee, tank or henley, or if it's a nice shirt in good shape you can button it up and tuck it in and get away with wearing it to a semi-casual thing, like a weekday dinner with friends or an event at church/synagogue which isn't a service, like a potluck or a meeting.
These can often be bought lined or quilted and used as a light jacket. I used these for throwing on real quick when going to bring in wood so the wood wouldn't chew up my forearms.
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Now THIS is a flannel. The difference is this is made out of flannel.
Everything I said above applies to this, except flannel shirts are more "casual" than a nice camp shirt bc the material is softer.
Flannel. Shirts. Don't. Have. To. Be. Plaid. A lot of them are, but I own/owned plenty of solid color flannel shirts. I don't care for these as much for chores bc the soft material means stuff is more likely to poke through, but they're great for layering.
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I'm out of pictures so hang on, adding more.
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angelltheninth · 5 months
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Can you plz plz write a smut where Mike takes readers virginity and they are kind of innocent
Sure thing, my Mike brainrot is still going strong.
Pairing: Michael Afton/Mike Schmidt x Fem!Reader
Tags: nsfw, smut, virginity loss, kissing, body worship, praise, gentle sex, soft!Michael Afton
Word count: 1.1k
A/N: He would be the softest lover in the world, have you seen this man?!
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Michael sat right across from you on the bed, his boner prominent despite his nervous glances at your equally naked body. Tonight was supposed to be perfect, at least according to him, perfect date, perfect drive home, perfect ambiance for the first time you'd have sex with him, or anyone really.
"The candles are too much aren't they?"
"Mike."
"Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have gotten them!"
"Mike."
"I wanted it to be all romantic for you, it's your first-"
"Michael!" You cupped his face in your hands, cutting off the rant he was bout to go on. He looked so cute like that, eyes big and wide and lips pressed together. "It's fine, I think it's very romantic. Very movie cliché of you, but I like that side of you."
Michael couldn't help but blush at your compliments of him, taking your hands in his and rubbing his thumbs over them. "That's good, cause I gotta be honest, I only did it cause I saw it in a movie and it looked pretty." He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer, "I only want the best for my gorgeous girlfriend." His cock pulsed when it met your wet pussy which pressed it against his abs more and more the closer you got.
"And that's why I love you." Your lips meet in a deep kiss as your arms fell over his broad shoulders. You kept rocking your hips against his cock, your clit constantly rubbing against the length, "Second drawer, I wanna come on your cock first."
"Do you baby? You want it?" He asked between each kiss as he moved you both backwards, his hand blindly moving to get the box of condoms, "Wanna put this on me?" Of course that meant you needed to move way from him but it was worth it to see him tear the package open with his mouth. "Lubed up on the outside."
You rolled your eyes as you took the rubber, "I know, I've had the same health class as you Mike."
"Yeah, that's what I worry about. I've had to learn from practice." And based on the stories he told you there was a lot of mishaps in his previous relationships. Although not from his lack of sexual province, rather from the lack of time he could dedicate to his girlfriend. But now he finally had a stable job, one that allowed him to spend more nights with you and actually afford a babysitter for his sister.
"You don't have to flaunt your experience at me. Besides I'm a very fast learner."
"I'm not- I just don't want you to feel pressured here. You can lean back and le-et me-!" Michael's eyes fluttered open and closed as you held his cock still with one hand and pulled the condom on it with the other. There was no way you were gonna look him in the eyes right now. "You... that's fine."
It was almost a shame to let him go, even through the rubber you could still feel every vein on his cock, pulsing at your touch, "This fees very different than toys." It was a lot better, seeing him almost shaking with excitement as he pushed you down and lined up but didn't put it in, instead he ran his hands up to your breasts and took one nipple into his mouth.
You could see all the muscles in his taunt back working as he moved little by little, "I want to make you feel good. This pretty body of yours, I want to know all the places that will make your eyes roll back, get you to make all the sexy noises for me." He released your stiff nipple with a wet pop, moving to the other, "Thank you for trusting me enough to be your first. I'm gonna try not to hurt you, so tell me if it feels bad and I can pull out okay? This is all on you."
"Mike... okay, I'm ready, I want to be one with you, please make me feel good." Mike gave your breasts a few more kisses before kissing you right as he pushed forward, sheathing himself inside you in one go, bodies and mouth pressed against each other, it was the only thing you could do to keep your voice down as you felt yourself get stretched and filled up by a real cock for the first time.
"Are you hurt? You're not saying anything..."
"Only stings a little. But I think I'm okay. Hold on... let me try to- oh!" Your forehead fell against his when you felt his cock react to your pussy fluttering around him, "Oh my god. Okay... maybe... pull out a little?" His hands moved down, holding you just above your waist, his eyebrows furrowed with worry as he pulled back. "Not all the way!"
"Ah! Sorry. It's okay, take all the time you need, I'm here." He couldn't do anything but stare at you, feeling his cock enveloped in your warmth again as you pushed him closer with your legs, once again taking all of him.
The clenching of your pussy pulled him deeper, letting him sink in all the way, fully bottomed out inside you. You kept pulling him close every time he pulled out too much for your liking, now that you knew what it felt like to have Michael's cock inside you it was hard to imagine you could every feel as good without it. He got the message, keeping most of it in with fast, but shallow thrusts, focused on the way you mewled past your tight lips, how your nailed raked down his back and pulled him even closer.
"Feels good to have you this deep." You kissed his cheek, his stubble scratching your lips but you didn't care, he could shave a little after. Besides the stubble made him look hotter in your opinion. "Can you... thrust a little faster, I'm getting close."
"What ever you need babygirl." He picked up the pace as he intertwined his fingers with yours and kissed your ring finger gently, almost dreamily as your pussy came with his cock deep inside you. "You feel amazing, that's it, keep that pussy tight for me." Michael wasn't far behind you, and while you could feel his cock pulse and his hips stutter, you were deprived of the feeling of his cum, caught by the condom instead. "Ahaha, don't be disappointed sweetheart, we gotta be careful with this stuff."
"I know." You almost whined but calmed down when he nuzzled the tip of his nose to yours, "I wonder what it feels like though, to have your cum inside me."
"You'll find out some day." As quickly as those words left his mouth he hid his blushing face in the pillow, "I-If you want that of course."
That sounded a lot like he just asked you if you wanted to have kids one day. "That'd be nice."
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