#I’M RUNNING OUT OF WAYS TO SAY GOODBYE | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pencil-n-pen · 5 months ago

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I’M STILL TRYING EVERYTHING

⋆° 𐙚 ₊🧦☕🧸₊°⋆ ೀ₊°⋆

previous | kofi | masterlist

post prison!spencer reid x fem!reader

₊ ⊹

I'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me.

-mirrorball, taylor swift

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summary: you’ve never had a date or a relationship that either didn’t work out or end in disaster. now that you have spencer, you’re determined not to let it happen again

cw: referenced bad past relationships, very very vaguely referenced past domestic abuse that honestly could be taken a different way, referenced child abuse (readers parents are STILL not it) again this is a criminal minds fic so references to graphic violence

tags/tropes: hurt/comfort (do i even need to say this? you all know who i am) insecurity, like one line of misogyny and it’s in the past and not brought up again, spencer being soft n worried, HEALTHY COMMUNICATION, spencer is just as gone for reader as she is for him honestly he's just a sap

a/n: back by popular demand !! seriously guys, you have no idea how much the support and comments and reblogs and asks means to me 🥹 the overwhelming amount of love for the first fic made me so happy when people started asking about a sequel i knew i had to !!

read the crossword on the collage for a surprise :)

this one goes out to all my girlies who’ve ever felt like they needed to be less in order to get a boyfriend or keep one. we’ll have our soft love just the way it was meant to be

⋆⭒˚.⋆

Spencer is a really good boyfriend.

Like… a really good boyfriend. You’re not sure if this is how having a real boyfriend is or if Spencer is just like this.

He’s so good to you. He’s just so- so him. You can’t explain it. Can’t put it into words.

He’s very patient with you. You’ve never explicitly stated it, but he’s picked up on your previous relationship experience- or more accurately, your lack thereof. The morning after you’d gone home with him, night consisting of nothing but easy sleep and warmth, he’d asked you out for real. Asked you if you’d go on a date with him, and you’d agreed, a giddy smile fixed firmly on your face.

But you still worry.

All it takes it one conversation with your parents to push things over the edge.

“Yes, dad. He’s very good to me.”

A laugh crackles over the line. “I tell you, your mother and I never thought we’d see the day.”

The words twinge uncomfortably in your chest. “Hey, I’m not that bad. I’ve just been focused.”

“More like uptight.”

“Dad—“

“You know, you still haven’t come out to visit your poor old parents since getting this so-called cushy job. And now you’ve got this boyfriend. You’re too young to settle down. Don’t you think we should meet him?”

Sometimes conversations turn so quickly they leave you stranded— scrambling to pick up pieces of what you thought was going to happen and piece them together to make something new. Something for the new route the conversation has taken.

You couldn’t hold back your sigh if you tried. “We haven’t been dating for that long dad, I don’t want to spring this on him—“

“Sweetie, if we don’t meet him now, why might never meet him. Who knows how long he’s gonna stick around?”

(Sometimes, in moments like these, for just a split second, you wonder how a father could say something like that, to his daughter. You wonder why, wonder what you did wrong. And then, you imagine Hotch saying those same things, and you can’t, and it almost makes you feel a little better.)

Your blood runs cold. “What could you possibly mean by that?”

“Well, you know how things have ended in the past. I’m just saying I’d like to meet him before he’s gone."

You don't dignify his words with a response.

"Come on, honey. I'm just joking with you."

"It's not funny."

"Don't be like that--"

"Goodbye."

You hang up, snapping the phone shut with a sigh.

The older you've gotten, the more conversations with your parents end up like this. You suppose it's the way you 'wasted your potential' or 'never made something of yourself.' They've always held resentment ever since you decided to become an agent. So you know not to take what they say to heart, because their words only come from a place of disappointment and displeasure. It's not a reflection of who you really are or what you've really accomplished.

Or at least, that's what Hotch told you when he'd overheard one of your phone calls. It meant more than you'd let on.

But your Dad's words linger in your head. They're irritating and sharp where they claw around in your head because they're true.

You can count on one hand the amount of romantic endeavors you've had. And from those, they all ended horribly. Your parents lost sympathy towards the end of your attempts, muttered words of needing to try harder to keep them, that you should be satisfied that somebody wanted you at all, that you should try to be less... you.

Try to be less... you, dear. The books and the facts- nobody wants those. Put some more effort into your appearance. Otherwise you'll end up all alone.

You'd tried to take their advice, of course. But the relationships that were fathered your parents direction were not loving. There was nothing soft or gentle or warm about them. You'd never felt more unlovable.

So when the incident with the shooter happened and you were lying on the lecture hall floor, blood coloring the carpet deep scarlet, you'd vowed to never let it happen again. That you were going to use your intellect and wit and passion for what you wanted to do- you'd promised yourself that if you survived, you would try to make your life your own, one step at a time.

This, of course, is easier said than done.

It's easy enough to refuse to let yourself get involved with men who are clearly only interested in your for your badge or your body --though the latter happens so rarely you really don't have to worry about it-- because you don't care about them. They're blips on your radar.

But Spencer? Sweet, sweet Spencer who makes you hot-cocoa and binge watches Doctor Who with you, even the later seasons, which you know he doesn't like as much but you love. Spencer who always has a grounding touch to offer, or a quiet command when you need him. Spencer who puts you first.

But there's a limit to these things, right? As far as you've seen, romantic relationship's are transactional, or conditional. Sometimes both. He can't just... keep doing this forever. It's too kind. Too sweet. It'll come to an end soon. Like, like the honeymoon era in early relationships. That's all it is. Plus, he's older than you, and you have no illusions about your unavoidable impulsiveness and naivety.

You've been told that your standards are too high before. "Struck by the hopeless romantic's arrow," your brother had said once, back when you were still in school, crying over a boy who'd told you that he didn't want to date you because you were too smart for a girl.

"That's not being hopeless romantic. There's no such thing as being too smart for a girl."

"There isn't," He'd amended, "But you're not going to have an easy time finding a guy. You of all people can't really afford to be picky."

He'd been right, in the end. So you're just... having a hard time figuring out how genuine Spencer's actions are. Guy's don't really act all romantic in the context of you. You've been told your whole life to be happy with what you get, and what you've had in the past is decidedly not lining up with how Spencer treats you.

It's a nasty little thing in your ear. Is it real? Does it matter as much to him?

When is it all going to end?

Rossi make's an offhand comment during a mission that you talk a lot when you're excited about the subject at hand.

JJ agrees. "It's a little unnerving when the subject is the bruising patterns of strangulation."

That little voice comes back.

Too much too much too much too much too much--

"It's useful," You protest, mouth dry.

JJ snorts, "I'm not sure about that. We need to know that the victim was strangled, not what happens to the body during blunt-force asphyxiation."

You'd grown quiet then, let the chatter and musings of the rest of the team wash over you.

Is that something Spencer finds annoying? You have always found things other's view morbid and disturbing fascinating. But JJ is right. No one wants to hear about that.

You brush the comment off, square your shoulders, get back on with the case.

Be better. Try harder.

You don't seen the furrow of Spencer's brows from where he's been watching you, or the quick look he shares with Hotch.

You'd never really thought about how clingy you can be before Emily makes an offhand comment about it while the two of you wait in line at a coffee shop. There's a couple in front of you, the girl all over her partner, kissing and giggling and hugging them close.

"Ugh," Emily groans once the two get their coffee and move on. "I could never understand the appeal of all that. I mean doesn't it feel stifling?"

A little stab of ice in your stomach.

"I don't know. I think it's nice."

"No, thank you. If I were her partner, I'd feel smothered."

You think about that conversation every time you take Spencer's hand or lean into his simple touches. They're invasive little things, the thoughts. It's not hard to pull back on all the touching. You never really ask for them in the first place- always too nervous to come off clingy. But you suppose just taking, taking, taking is just the same.

A quick shake of your head, not leaning in, a quiet "I'm fine." and that little nagging fear of smothering begins to quiet. It doesn't leave, but it does get quieter. For a little while, at least.

The hard part is trying to be less without noticeably being less. Spencer's smart- and he's a profiler. If you pull back too much too quickly, he'll notice, and you don't want to talk about this yet. You just need to make sure he'll stay. That things won't—

That you won't find out too late that you don't mean as much to him as he does to you.

That's the kind of thing that can't happen again. But ascertaining his true feelings and desires is difficult, because this is all kind's of new territory for you. You want to believe it's real. You really, really want to believe it's real.

But it's never been real before, so why would it be real now?

You've asked around (subtly and carefully, of course) about the type of girl Spencer's dated or drifted towards in the past. You know he said he wanted something soft and sweet, but you can't help but think that you're not really either, nor are you in line with his type. All things considered, you're a mess. Something tired-eyed and hollow is how you feel most days. Some sort of creature perhaps? You're honestly not sure what you are. You've spent your entire life being singled out or otherwise othered- always too smart or too different or too weird or too much or too loud or too quiet or too shy or too, too, too. Always too something. You have never been called soft or sweet. In a demeaning way, sure, but never with the quiet reverence that Spencer said it with that night.

It feels like a balancing act, a bit. Holding all those too much parts so close to your chest with one hand and shoving the ones you think Spencer wants with the other hand.

You could probably drop the one hand. The one holding the bad parts. But you're just not convinced he'll stay. You're not sure that he won't look at them with some form of disgust or pity or something else terrible.

You know the balancing act isn't sustainable— you'll fall eventually, and everything will come crashing down, but until then, you just keep trying. Trying to see if he'll stay, trying to see what to do if he won't. How to ensure he will, if that's something that's possible.

The act does not hold up for as long as you hoped it would. It comes crashing down with a glass. Literally.

You and Spencer are in the kitchen on a rare weekend off, cooking and drinking wine and swaying to some little old love song.

It should be perfect, except you're worrying that you look ugly while you're dancing, and you're probably singing off-key, and he maybe wants you to shut up so he can hear the song or dance in peace.

He reaches towards you and you just— your brain shrieks for a moment, all senses going into overdrive and you jerk backward, and your elbow knocks into your wine glass, and it falls, shattering behind you with a deafening crash.

Your entire body tenses, waiting for yelling or sighing or something, because you broke the glass, there's crystalline shards everywhere, the wine red and it looks like blood, maybe it is, maybe you're bleeding because the glass was really close to your foot when it fell but you're not sure because you can't really feel your feet or your fingers or—

"Don't move," Spencer says, voice serious, and tears well in your eyes, because this is when it all ends isn't it? "I don't want you to— honey?"

"Yes?" You croak.

His eyes are swimming with concern as he takes in your hunched shoulders, shallow breaths, and scared expression.

Understanding flickers in his features, and you resist the urge to hold your breath.

"Nothing is going to happen to you because of the glass, okay? Everything is fine. We're fine. I'm not mad. See? I'm not mad. I just don't want you to cut your feet on the glass. I'm going to clean this up and get your slippers, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe, voice hoarse. You wring your hands nervously as he leaves to retrieve the necessary supplies to clean the mess, heart beating so fast and so hard you're shocked you can't see it through your shirt.

He's not mad. He's not mad. You're not in trouble. Your parents aren't here. You're not grounded. You're not in trouble. He's not mad.

You're silent while he cleans, focused on getting your breathing under control while he babbles quietly about the history of glass making and the significance of types of wine glasses. The facts and history wash over you in steady waves, easing the tension in your shoulders bit by bit.

"I didn't think you were going to hit me, Spencer."

He continues cleaning. "It's okay if you did. I would never blame you for that."

"But I don't," You say, suddenly desperate, "I know you wouldn't, I've never been hit, not like that."

He's quiet for a few minutes. "Does this have something to do with how you've been acting recently?"

You freeze. "What do you mean?"

He looks up, leaning back on his knees. Making himself smaller, you realize. He's trying not to scare you again.

"You're dating a profiler. Also, I speak fluent you, and you've been chewing all your hangnails again. You only do that when you're stressed and pretending like you're not."

Your finger's twitch at your sides.

His hands come up slowly, and he rubs the length of your waist and hips. "We don't have to talk about it right now, but I think we should soon. I don't want you hurting all by yourself. You've had enough of that. That's what I'm here for."

He finishes cleaning up the glass, and finishes cooking dinner- he'd assured you he'd turned off all burners when the glass hit the floor, so nothing's burnt.

Once you've both eaten, he steers you towards the couch and wordlessly puts on Doctor Who.

The Pandorica is just about to open when you finally decide that if you don't start talking, you never will.

"My parents think you're going to leave me."

Spencer makes a wounded noise in his throat. "Why do they think that?"

"Because it's happened before. I'm, um. I'm not very good at getting into relationships. Or keeping them."

"But that's not your fault."

You sniff hard, rubbing your face with your sleeve. "It is though, isn't it? At least a little. I know I can be a lot. I know I'm not easy to—"

You cut yourself off, but the words hang in the air anyway; unsaid.

I'm not easy to love.

"Anyway," You say, pushing through the lump in your throat. "I just thought. I don't know. I was worried that you'd get fed up with me."

"No," He whispers, voice raw and full of something a lot heavier than fond. "No, no baby. I like that you're clingy and you ramble when you get excited, because it means that we get to talk about something together."

He shifts on the couch, sitting criss-crossed, ducking his head down to catch your gaze. "You know what else I like?"

You scoot over, mirroring his position. "What?"

"I like that you always know when I need you. Even when I don't think I do, you're there. Because I do need you. This isn't a one-way street."

His words hit you straight in your chest. "Oh."

He smiles, brows a little scrunched, brown eyes a deep pool of fondness and a splash of concern. "Yeah. And I'm thinking you need me a little more than you want to let on."

The seam of your pajama pants suddenly becomes the most interesting thing in the world. Amazing, the wonders of a sewing machine.

"Maybe."

"Mmm," He hums, "So if I need you, don't you think that you're allowed to need me?"

Your fingers pick and twirl a loose thread around. "...Yes?"

A large, firm hand covers your thigh, giving it a quick squeeze. "Yes. Not only are you allowed to need me, I want you to need me. Cause you know how you're always worried about being the best girlfriend? Well, I'm always worried about being the best boyfriend."

That makes you look up. "Really?"

He chuckles again, a little puff of air fanning your face. "Yes, really. I assure you, contrary to your past experiences, this is one of those bare minimum things in a relationship."

"That does not," He continues, immediately catching the brief flicker of doubt and shame on your face, "Mean that it is your fault at all for how you were treated in the past. You wouldn't expect me to suddenly become an expert in veterinary medicine just because I've been to the vet's office a few times, right?"

"When did you go to the vet's—"

"Shh, I'm being a good boyfriend," He holds up a hand, lips quirking up when you can't suppress a tiny giggle, "But seriously. You had no frame of reference, right? And you were being told it was your fault. But it wasn't. You didn't deserve that."

He lets his words hang in the air for a little while and allows you time to process this new information.

"What do I do now?"

"Well," He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, curls tickling your forehead, "You've got a pretty sweet deal here. Just three things. You have to keep letting me need you, let yourself need me, and one last little thing."

"What?"

You're so close your breaths are mingling.

"Let me show you what this is supposed to look like. How a man is supposed to treat a pretty girl. His pretty girl."

"Oh, well," Heat rushes to your cheeks, your stomach doing flip-flops, "That sounds pretty hard. I don't know how I'll hold up."

His hand comes up to hold the side of your face, his thumb sweeping strokes under your eye.

"You say that now, but I know what happens to you when I get romantic. You swoon."

You laugh. "I do not swoon."

"You will."

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. It isn't a kiss-kiss. He's kissing you just to kiss you; just to let you know that he's here, that you have him.

It's sweet and perfect and exactly what you need.

Letting yourself need Spencer is marginally easier now that you know he needs you. Now that you know you're not going all in for someone who isn't.

He also starts needing you a bit... louder.

It's late evening, and most people have gone home except you and a couple other members of the team, all still working on paperwork.

Except Spencer, who's decided to drape himself over your shoulders like a cat, his chin resting on your head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

"Either finished it or it can be done later."

You shift your shoulders, smiling at how his grumbles vibrate against your back.

He moves his head, pressing his cheek to your head instead of his chin, heaving a deep sigh.

"Your hair smells good."

"Like what?"

"You're shampoo. Yours always smell better than mine."

You continue to work through your paperwork, Spencer a continuous and solid weight against your back.

"Is this even comfortable for your back at all?"

"Doesn't matter. Need girlfriend time."

He can't see it, but you're sure he knows how hard you blush.

Spencer's cooking the two of you a late breakfast in the kitchen of his apartment, hair still all mussed from sleep. He's quite the sight. You can't stop staring.

You're sitting on the counter, still dressed in your pajamas, legs swinging.

"You wanna know something cool?"

"You know it,"

"Butterflies and moths can drink blood and tears. There's nutrients in them. Purple Emperor butterflies are especially known for this. It's called mud-puddling."

"So you're telling me I should make sure I bandage any open wounds before I go to a butterfly house?"

"I guess. I can't imagine they'd be able to drink enough blood to actually cause any damage."

"Maybe we'll have to go to a butterfly house. For research."

"Should we get dinner afterwards?"

"We'll deserve it, you know, for all the hard research we'll have done."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose so."

Spencer's bed is infinitely more comfortable than your bed. You're pretty sure it's a combination of the fact that it's the only thing in the entire world that smells so much like him and the fact that he spent part of his large FBI paycheck on a fancy mattress. Back support is very important to him.

You're doing a little reading before bed, shamelessly sprawled all over him while he does his own reading. You've got a leg hooked over his hips, the other tangled with his legs, and your arms and head pillowed on his chest. You move a little every time he takes a breath, and more than once you've paused in your reading, mesmerized by the feeling.

He shifts under you, setting his book down on his night stand and making himself more comfortable.

"Should I move?"

"No," he says, voice deep and gravelly with sleep. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush to him, face pressed to the crook of your neck. He breathes deep, scruffy stubble scratching against your skin. "Like you close. Good for sleep."

Even with the lamp on, and your book in your hand, you fall asleep soon after him.

It's an ordinary evening for the two of you. Discarded dishes sit on the coffee table in front of the t.v, neither of you paying them any attention, wrapped up in each other and eyes glued to the screen.

You look up at Spencer who's watching Doctor Who with the focus of a man who's never seen it, even though you know for a fact he's seen it before, several times in fact.

"I want to know the things you like," He'd said simply, the one time you'd asked why he takes your nightly Doctor Who watching so seriously.

And tonight's no different. Tonight, he looks... well, he looks like Spencer. His face illuminated by the TV screen, his hair all mussed from you running your hands through it earlier.

And it just kind of all hits you at once. You know.

"I love you."

He looks down at you, his expression soft and surprised. When your words register, his expression is so sickeningly fond and happy you can't help but lean in, burying your face in his chest. He rubs your back consolingly, then presses a little kiss to the crown of your head.

"I love you too."

⋆⭒˚.⋆

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girlyteengirlcore · 1 month ago

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— until you learn

sevika x fem!reader

cw: established relationship, age gap (early 20s/late 30s), 🤏🏻 of obsessive sevika, verryyyyy dom/sub btw, strap-on sex, strap is referred to as “dick”, oral, dubcon (reader is a little bit intoxicated), orgasm control, clit stimulation, overstimulation, impact play, little bit of spit, squirting, degradation, aftercare

a/n: sorry for my little disappearance, this is my apology!! also, i’m so bad at the whole plot thing so i’m really sorry if the start of this sucks

wc: 3.2k

⌞friday night, 6:54pm ⌝

You had just finished getting ready for a night out with your friends, checking your phone every five minutes to see how far away your uber was. Once you got the notification that your ride has arrived you jumped up, nearly running out of the house. Your wife grabbed you by the arm, stopping you just before you reach the door.

"You forgetting something, doll?" Raising her eyebrows at you eagerness to leave.

"Oh sorry, babe," you stand on the tips of your toes, bringing your lips to hers.

When you pull away you give her a sweet smile, before turning on your heel and running out of the house. You glance back just before you hop in the car, waving at Sevika standing at the door.

"Update me regularly, please," the way she says it almost makes it sound like a question, but you know better than to assume she was asking. She was expecting you, telling you, to update her every now and then.

"Will do, love you!" You yelled your response at her from across the front yard, blowing her a kiss as you finally sat down and closed the car door.

⌞7:24pm⌝

It took about half an hour to get to the designated restaurant. Your friends spotted you from across the room once you arrived and went inside, ushering you over to your seat where you see they've already ordered some appetisers for the table. It feels like forever since you've seen them and it will probably be a while until you see them again, so you saver every hug from them as you go around the table.

You sit down and immediately get bombarded with questions about your life, you take some food as you answer all of their questions.

Once all of you had had your fill, you went up to the bar to order the first round of drinks. One round soon turned into two, then three, and once it got to four you suggested a bar hop. And when you actually found your second bar of the night, every second round of drinks signalled the trek to a new bar. However long the walk may be.

⌞10:13pm⌝

By this time it was about quarter past ten, and you only realised once you checked the time that you hadn’t been doing the thing that you promised to do. Update Sevika on the going ons of the night. She really doesn’t ask for much, truly, as she states in the multiple messages displayed at the bottom of your lock screen.

7:34pm

╰┈➤ Did you get there safe, baby?

8:06pm

╰┈➤ How’s it going?

9:03pm

╰┈➤ Baby

╰┈➤ Missed call

╰┈➤Are you okay?

9:22pm

╰┈➤ Missed call

╰┈➤ Where are you?

╰┈➤ I asked you to update me and you said you would, a simple ‘yes baby I’m fine’ would be amazing?

10:03pm

╰┈➤ I don’t ask for a lot and you can’t even do that much, I just want to know how things are going.

╰┈➤ I’m coming to get you

╰┈➤ Missed call

⌞10:16pm⌝

By the time you saw the countless messages and missed calls she left it was too late to message, she wasn’t going to answer since she was driving. You opt for the best option you could think of; sitting outside and waiting for her. You say goodbye to all of your friends, promising to see them again soon, wishing them the best for the time being. Then, you take your leave and find a comfortable space on the front concrete stairs of the establishment.

You’re scrolling on your phone when, soon enough, you hear a car pull up and park right in front of you. You look up and lock eyes with your wife through the open passenger seat window, she does not look happy.

Why were you getting excited? She’s about to berate you for disobeying her, so why are you feeling giddy?

You make your way over to the car, dragging your feet. Luckily you ordered some side dishes to eat while you were drinking, helping you to not get too drunk. But honestly, even if you didn’t, the feeling of her eyes burning into your head as you step inside the car would definitely do the trick.

“I’m really so—“

“Don’t wanna hear it.” She leaves no room for argument, no room for apologies, and absolutely no room for your endless excuses she knows you made up while waiting for her.

The rest of the drive home is silent. She left a cold bottle of water in the centre console that you graciously took, not bothering with manners since you know it won’t help your case.

You can’t lie though, the tension in the car mixing with the alcohol in your system was making you feel hot. You couldn’t help but imagine what she was going to do once you got home, smiling to yourself while looking at the window, trying your absolute hardest not to make it obvious that you were squeezing your thighs together. The butterflies in your stomach were making your clit throb with anticipation. The way she put her hand behind your head rest and turned around, using the palm of her hand to turn the steering wheel to back into the garage didn’t help the throb either.

You both sit in the stilled car for a moment, but you’re both still for different reasons. She’s thinking of what to say, while you’re waiting to be told what to do. She actually appreciates your behaviour for the first time all night.

“Sit on the bed.” You expect her to say more so you turn to face her, but once you receive a look that says ‘what?’ you get out of the car and head to the bedroom.

You’re waiting for some time before she comes in, stopping momentarily to glare at you, you shiver subtly under her gaze. She turns and closes the door, still standing facing away from you when she talks next.

“What is the one thing I asked you to do?” Turning around slowly to face you, walking over to you in a less than reassuring way.

“To update you,” your voice was small.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you,” she kneels down in front of you, staring up at you and yet it still feels like she’s looming over you.

“You asked me to update you.”

“Right. And what didn’t you do?”

“Update you.”

“I said speak up,” she says through her teeth, in an impatient manner.

“I didn’t update you. And I’m so sorry Sev, I just forgot.” Your apology was rushed, thinking she would interrupt you again. But she didn’t, she stayed silent.

“Take your clothes off.”

You swallow your nerves and lift your dress up over your head, sitting in your underwear. You don’t waste any time in taking off the rest, leaving you sitting completely bare in front of her.

“Lay on your stomach.”

You move further onto the bed, turning over and laying on your stomach just like she asked. She lifts up your hips with ease, placing a pillow underneath them. Then, the sound of her palm coming down on your ass fills the room. You hear it before you feel it. When you do feel it, it stings so badly that it feels cold.

She won’t make you count, she never does. That isn’t the point of this punishment. The point of it is to have to crying and begging her to stop while chanting empty promises along the lines of ‘I’ll never do it again!’ These pleas fall on unwillingly ears; she listens, relishing in the sobs that come out of your mouth every time she brings her hand down, then ignores you. Just like you did to her.

“Shut it. You want me to listen to you? Yeah? How do you think I feel, sweetheart?” She grabs your hair, turning your head to face her. The look in her eyes doesn’t do much to help the dripping between your thighs, but that doesn’t make it any less intimidating.

“I’m so sorry ‘Vika, I swear, it won’t hap- happen again,” stammering over your words due to your uncontrollable sobbing.

“You sure you’re not just saying that to get on my good side so I can play with your little pussy, babe? ‘Cause she looks pretty desperate,” the smirk evident in her tone.

“I’m sure.”

Out of nowhere she gets on top of you, straddling your thighs. She gets real close to your ear, make you shiver as you feel her lick the shell of it.

“Think you deserve to cum?” She hums in response when she sees you nod your head.

You feel her fingers slowly creep their way to your weeping pussy, but you stay still. You feel her knee nudge your legs open for easier access, but you still remain unmoving. It was only when her fingertip dipped slightly into you that you jolted, earning a chuckle from the woman above you. She gets off for a second and guides you to turn around. Still keeping your hips elevated but now you’re on your back.

She presses her knee to your shoulder, making it near impossible for you to move. And rubs your clit slowly with her hand, causing your eyes to close at the direct contact. You notice the light disappearing from behind your eyelids and open your eyes, only to see Sevika’s face above yours.

“Open wide, whore,” looking down at your lips with an expectant look.

You close your eyes agin and open your mouth, feeling a drop her warm saliva dribble onto your tongue. You swallow it immediately.

“You really are a slut, aren’t you?” A rhetorical question, of course. You both knew that answer.

Her other hand comes down to lift the hood of your clit up, making you clench around nothing as your clit is exposed to the cold air. Using her other hand to gather some of your arousal on a couple of her think fingers, a rub them roughly against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, back arching, and toes curling. Then, she shows you absolutely no mercy. Moving off of you and finding her place between you thighs, face to face with your drooling slit, licking her lips.

And she devours you, her hands do well to keep you from moving too much but even when you do, her face follows you. Never letting you escape the overwhelming pleasure. Sevika sucks your clit into her mouth, using her tongue to subjugate it to an unrelenting torture. As you feel your orgasm sneaking up, she lifts her head slightly, gaining your attention.

“Don’t cum yet.” What?

“I can’t hold it-“

“You’re going to have to, baby. I wasn’t asking.”

She gets right back to work, adding two of her thick fingers. While she seems to be enjoying herself, you have to fight off your pleasure while being forced to endure her tongue on your pussy. Not an easy task at all. You tell yourself to focus on your breathing, trying to hold it off for as long as possible but it doesn’t seem to be working at all. Little did you know, this is exactly what she wanted; to push to the point where you have to beg her to let you cum. Her favourite form of humiliation.

“Sev- vika, ohhh god, I can’t- I can’t hold it. Ohhhh my god, I can’t hold it— pleeeaaase baby! Fuckkk,” your pleas came out as screams through your teeth.

“Oh, I don’t know, baby. I really don’t think you deserve it, at all.”

The room was filled with the only words you could get out; pleasepleaseplease was all she heard, and she loved it. In fact, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Once your hips started moving erratically, you both knew there was no holding it for any longer. She’s not worried though, she wasn’t planning on making you wait any longer anyway.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart? Go on, make a mess.”

The dam walls break, the noise you let out was ungodly. Your orgasm washing over you in such an intense way that your whole body starts shaking. The shivering didn’t stop Sevika from prolonging it, dragging your orgasm out by slightly slowing down the pace of her fingers. It was such a overwhelming sensation that you don’t even hear her get up, too fucked out from only one orgasm to see what she’s doing. The ringing in your ears stops you from hearing the sound of metal clanging together. She’s already fastened the harness around her hips and is lubing up the strap by the time you turn your head around, your eyes widening at the sheer size of it.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

“I c- please Sevi, I can’t cum again,” trying to give her the sweetest look you could muster up, looking for some type of sympathy.

“Don’t give me that, you’ve got plenty more in you.”

She gets on her knees on the bed, using one of her hands to lift your hips up and the other one to guide her strap into your drenched pussy. Swiping it up and down to gather all of your cum that has dripped out of you, using it as extra lube. You wince as she pushes in. Inch by inch, she’s filling you up. She’s so slow too, making sure you feel every detail of the fake dick.

Once you adjust to the size of it, she lifts both of your legs so that both of your feet are hanging over one of her shoulders. Your hips are off the bed completely and she wraps both arms around your legs, and she goes crazy. She moves back, only bringing her hips forward whenever gravity makes you impale yourself on her dick. The sound of skin slapping soon fills the room, almost drowning out the beautiful noises you were making.

Your mouth lolled open, drool finding its way out of your mouth and down the side of your cheek.

“That feel good, baby?” She already knew but she loved to hear you say it.

“Mhm,” your bottom lip finding its way in between your teeth.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Y- yessss, oh my fucking g- gooddddd!!!” Voice changing as she angles her hips slightly upwards, pressing into that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

She doesn’t stop when you cum for the second time.

“Aww, look baby. You’re creaming all over me, does it feel too good, sweetheart?”

She doesn’t stop when you squirt all over her abdomen.

“Ohhhhhh, you’re makin’ a mess.” Bringing her hand down and rubbing sloppy patterns over your clit, forcing more out of you. Making you scream through your teeth. She chuckles through her teeth and your reaction.

She doesn’t stop after you start begging her for a break.

“I thought I told you I don’t wanna hear any of that, of course you can take more.”

“I- I can’t! Vika pl-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself, we aren’t stopping. Not until you understand— not until you learn the consequences of your actions.”

And oh my god did she stick to her word. She’s still pushing into you even now, even after you’ve stopped making noise and your mouth is just hanging wiiiiide open, even after you’ve cum another handful of times, even after she starts getting tired. She’s persistent, you’ll give her that.

She pauses for a second when she hears you mumble something under your breath, grabbing your jaw. She taps your cheek lightly.

“What’d you just say, baby? C’mon, speak.”

“I— I’m sorry,” tears, real tears pour out of your eyes. Not tears from the hours of overstimulation, not tears from the overwhelming pleasure you’re still experiencing, but tears from being genuinely sorry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t li- listen, I won’t- it won’t happen again. I love you.” Your words are quiet, almost a whisper, and slurred. And your sobs and hiccups weren’t helping you to become more coherent, but she still understood what you said. You didn’t even need to say anything and she would still know.

She pauses, her eyes are darting all over your face. And she leans down to kiss your tears away softly, lovingly.

“Okay, baby. It’s alright, I love you too. You’re gonna cum one more time and we’ll be done. Yeah?”

She hums when you give her a nod, but you’re surprised when she pulls out. She’s slow with it, not wanting to hurt you. You focus your eyes to see her kissing down your stomach, until she reaches your sore pussy. You clench around nothing when you see her just looking, staring. Then, she leans in.

Immediately dipping her tongue in, her eyes rolling at the taste of your cum on her tongue. She doesn’t waste a drop, swallowing it all.

“Relax, baby. Deeeep breaths, yeah that’s good.”

She guides you through the build up, helping you to overcome to pain of your sensitive clit being stimulated once again, helping you to calm down, telling you when to breathe in… then out. During this time, you rely on her words and actions to know how to behave. She’s calm, so you’re calm.

As your orgasm builds further, you become a little erratic in your movements. Breathing becoming faster and more unsteady, hips lifting off of the bed and pulling away? or were they grinding on her face? neither of you could tell, and back arching.

“Baby, calm down.” Her authoritative voice was still so smooth like honey, making you shiver. You nod.

“I’m- gonna, gonna cum. Pleasepleaseplease- Vika I’m gonna c-“

“Yeah, I heard you. Calm down and let it alllll out.”

And when that cord inside you finally snaps, she’s there. Following your hips, forcing you to ride it out.

⌞probably veryyyyy early into the next morning⌝

Your back is against her chest, she’s running her hand up and down your torso. The warm bath water engulfing you both, making you sleepy. You could feel her watching you, so you open your eyes.

“What are you looking at?” Playfulness lingering in your tone.

“My beautiful wife,” she says without even thinking.

You smile, closing your eyes again and leaning back against her chest.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Sore.” She chuckles at your answer, letting the comfortable silence fill the bathroom again.

After a couple of minutes she speaks again.

“Don’t ever make me worry like that again.” Her voice calm, but threatening.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“I mean it, baby.”

“I know.”

“So?”

“I won’t do it again.”

“Right,” rewarding you with a soft kiss on your temple.

2K notes · View notes

solastarr · 1 month ago

Text

I’m Grown

Sammie/Preacher's Boy x Black Reader

Genre: Smut with plot, Modern AU?(ig)

Warning: Smut, fingering, D in P, unprotected

Word Count: 3.8k+

Summary: You and sammie basically grew up together. Though you were only half a year older, you always treated him like a little kid.

Then college came, and you moved away. Now it's summer, and you start to realize the little preacher's boy you left...is a man now.

Writers note: I’m still new to writing fan fics, so i’m not the best, but i hope y’all still like it! I plan to keep practicing and getting better!!⭐️

In the past…

Your mother and Sammie’s mother were next-door neighbors turned best friends. They did everything together, meaning you and Sammie had to do everything together too. From Sunday school, choir, same school, clubs, sometimes y'all's mom thought it was cute to dress y'all up in matching outfits.

Eventually leading to you and Sammie to become besties.

Now even though you were only a half a year older than him, you made it your soul duty in life to make sure he knew he was the baby. From calling him nicknames like little boy, baby, baby bro, and eventually preacher’s boy.

Sammie had a deep hatred for these lame ass names, but it was you so he let it slide.

Over time as you and Sammie got older and the teasing continued but started to tone down, as your crush on him started to flourish. But you denied it with all your heart.

“He’s too young for me. Plus he’s my best friend… and I doubt he likes me.”, you explain to anyone who’d ask about you and sammies relationship.

But everyone else could see it– how Sammie would zone out to watch your smile across the classroom, the way your lips curl up when you smile at his jokes, how he’d analyze every curl that fell from your hair, the way your skin glistens when you run around the tract for P.E., and the way yall sound beautiful together when harmonizing during choir.

Sammie had feelings for you–no doubt bout it, but both of you had too much pride, and too much love for your friendship to ever say anything.

Jump to the end of Senior year of high school…

You and Sammie are now done with highschool, and now it’s time for you to figure out what the world has to offer you. You and your mother had been going back and forth for months about whether you should go to college near home and out of state. You wanted to stay close to home where your family, friends, and childhood were. But your mother insisted that you’d go much farther in life if you went to a big college some states over.

Eventually, you caved and agreed with your mother’s claims and chose to go to school out of state.

Now, the day you leave for school, and it’s time to tell your friends, family, and the person you dreaded telling the most goodbye… Sammie.

Going from seeing each other everyday to seeing each other for only a few months out of the year was going to be rough. But there was no avoiding it now.

You and your mother walked over to Sammie’s house, greeted by a long hug from his mother and some positive words from his father. You put on a brave face while talking to them all, not wanting them to see the fear of leaving choking you in your chest to show in your face. You barely talked to sammie the whole time you were over, unsure what to say or even how to say it—avoiding conversation with him at all costs.

Before it was time to leave, you slipped away to the bathroom, trying to think of what to say to sammie that won’t leave you in tears.

“He’s my best friend, I’ll know what to say…”, but as soon as you opened the bathroom door, there he was. Sammie. Waiting in the hallway like he knew you were hiding from him.

“Damn you already ignoring me you couldn’t wait til left?”, he says sarcastically, but you can hear the concern underneath it. You froze, caught off guard, not thinking your silence would make him think you were ignoring him. So, you immediately threw your wall up.

“Boy, I didn’t know how to let you down easy without leaving you in tears,” you joked, nudging his side. “Plus, don’t think a little distance could make me forget about my little bestie.” You gave him a warm—if slightly worried—smile.

The tension between you was thick as he stared at you, like he was trying to find the words too.

“Of course not. You know you can’t get rid of me girl”, he says with a smirk on his face. “And stop treating me like a baby, I've been grown. You just won't accept it.”

He nudges you back, making you laugh. “Nah,” you teased. “You’ll always be my little preacher’s boy.”, you pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. He held you back even tighter—like he didn’t want to let go.

You could both feel it—the warmth, the bond, the love between you. But the hug didn’t last forever. The tall, masculine figure in your arms would have to stay behind.

For a second, you wanted to say everything. That you didn’t want to go. That you wished things were different. That maybe, if you both had just been a little braver, things could’ve been more than late-night phone calls and unsent texts.

But instead, you just held him like a memory you didn’t want to let go of.

“Now gon on,” Sammie said, voice low and playful. “Before it gets too late and you miss your train.”. You nodded, eyes a little misty, and started walking toward the front door where your mom was waiting.

“Bye, Sammie. Don’t grow up too fast, now!” you called over your shoulder with a laugh.

He chuckled, just enough to cover up the lump in his throat. “Yeah, yeah. And you don’t get into too much trouble, little girl.”

You turned around one last time and flashed him a mischievous grin.

“Let’s remember who the little one is here.”

Before he could reply, your mom’s voice cut through the moment, calling your name.

And just like that, you were on a train to Georgia… …leaving Sammie back in Mississippi.

Now your back home for summer…

You hadn’t been home for more than 24 hours and already your mama was dragging you around town, making you run errands like you hadn’t just survived your first year of college. Between unpacking, catching up with cousins, and fake-smiling through “You don’ grown up!” comments from nosy church ladies, there hadn’t been time to stop and breathe—let alone see him.

But you finally slipped away… finally getting a moment to go visit your ole best friend.

You walked down the sidewalk in your old neighborhood, past the familiar houses with chipped paint and crooked mailboxes, past the corner where you and Sammie used to race on bikes. Everything felt the same and yet… you didn’t.

And when you turned the corner toward Sammie’s house, you definitely didn’t expect what happened next.

He was outside. Shirtless.

Standing in the driveway like a man who knew damn well he looked good. He was taller, broader, and his skin was glistening from the heat—golden brown, smooth, and definitely not the “little preacher’s boy” you left behind.

He was working on his car, arms flexing just enough to make your breath catch.

You tried to act unfazed...Tried.

“Boy, you still out here pretending to be a mechanic?” you called out, trying to sound playful.

Sammie looked up, wiped sweat from his forehead with a towel, and his lips curled into that familiar smirk—but there was something different behind it this time. Something slower. Deeper. Like he was seeing you for the first time too.

“Well well well…” he said, voice lower than you remembered. “Look who finally decided to come home.”

You swallowed hard.

His voice was deeper too, not just in tone but in presence. He moved slower, more deliberate. Like a man who wasn’t in a rush to prove anything anymore—just sure of himself. Of what he wanted.

He walked up to you, towel slung over his shoulder, eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing every inch.

“You gon' give me a real hug or just stand there lookin’ surprised?”

You blinked, then gave him a tight hug, suddenly hyper aware of how solid his chest felt against yours. He held you for a second longer than expected, pulling back just enough to look down at you.

“I’ve missed you, my little preacher’s boy” you say softly.

He scoffed, stepping back a little, “Still calling me that, huh?”

You nudged his side, now more muscular and lean than you remember, “You know you love it.”

He smirked, wiping his hands on the towel. “Love it? Girl, I barely tolerated it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please. You would’ve cried if I ever stopped.”

“Cried? You forget who you talkin’ to.” He squinted at you, leaning in a little. “I’m not that lil boy you used to boss around, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” you said, glancing him up and down. “You done grew up a lil, huh?”

Sammie raised a brow, clearly catching the way your eyes lingered. “You tryna say I look good or something?”

Your throat went dry. You weren’t used to this version of Sammie—direct, confident, making it hard to tell if he was joking or if he really saw you now... like more than a friend and not just the girl who used to beat him in Uno.

“I’m sayin’ you don’t look terrible.” You shrugged casually, biting back a smile.

He stepped closer. “A year away and you still playin’ with me like we kids.”

“You ain’t ready for grown-woman compliments, preacher’s boy,” you teased, folding your arms.

Sammie chuckled and tilted his head. “Oh, so you grown now? One year outta town and you all woman now, huh?”

“Damn straight,” you smirked. “I eat my greens now.”

That made him burst out laughing, deep and from the chest. “Greens? Girl, you used to cry over broccoli.”

“Growth.” You lifted your chin proudly.

“Well, I like this grown-up you,” he said, eyes scanning you again, slower this time. “Confident. Mouth still slick. But I’ma warn you…”

You cocked a brow. “Warn me about what?”

He leaned just a little closer, voice dropping. “Keep teasing me like that and I might start actin’ like I’m grown too.”

You blinked, heart thumping just a little harder.

“Boy, hush,” you muttered, but your voice came out softer than expected.

“Mmhm,” he hummed, backing up toward his car. “That’s what I thought.”

You stared at him, biting your lip before shaking your head.

“Still cocky, I see.”

“And you still love me,” he tossed over his shoulder.

The next morning…

It was barely 10 a.m. and you were still in your pajamas— some old cartoon shorts and a stretched-out tank top—hair in a messy scarf, and attitude already on 10 because somebody was banging on the door, and you wasn’t expecting no guests.

You lazily walked over to the door opening it with frustration all over your face. To your surprise it was Sammie.

White T-shirt clinging to his arms, cargo shorts low on his hips, tool bag in one hand, smug grin in the other. Looking good as hell, unfortunately for you.

You froze.

He didn’t.

His eyes raked over you slowly—taking in your bunny slippers, your tank top with one strap hanging off your shoulder, and your scarf slowly falling off your head.

“Well damn,” he said, cocking his head, “did I catch you fresh out the bed or is this what grown looks like now?”

You crossed your arms instinctively, suddenly aware of every exposed inch of skin and how his eyes didn’t flinch away—not like before. It wasn’t teasing this time. It was... something else. He was really looking.

“Boy, what the hell are you doing here?”

He held up the tool bag. “Your mama told mine y’all kitchen faucet was leakin'. You know how they are. So my momma volunteered me like I’m the damn neighborhood handyman.”

You stepped aside with a sigh.

“She ain’t mention nothing about you coming over.”

“She probably knew you wouldn’t clean up anyway,” he teased, walking past you. “Or put on a bra.”

You threw a couch pillow at the back of his head as he walked past you, mortified. “Don’t play with me this early, Sammie.”

He laughed, easily dodging it. “I’m just sayin’. You had all that grown woman energy yesterday, now I pull up and it look like yo childhood fought you and won.”(damn sis)

“I’m still living out of boxes,” you snapped, following him toward the kitchen. “I couldn’t find my good pajamas, so don’t start.”

“Right, right. Excuses.” He knelt down by the sink, glancing up.

You crossed your arms. “Fix the sink and shut up, Sammie.”

“I will,” he said, reaching under the counter. “Soon as you admit you missed me.” He smirked as he positioned himself under the sink to find the leak.

You rolled your eyes, smirking despite yourself. “Mmm. I missed peace. And silence.”

He chuckled, tools clinking under the cabinet. “Keep lyin’. You couldn’t even open the door right—you was too busy starin’.”

You blinked, your smirk faltering just a bit. He said it differently this time. Lower. Serious.

But before the silence could stretch too long, he flicked a piece of plastic from under the sink at you.

“You gon’ stand there or at least make yourself useful and pass me that wrench?”

Your fingers brushed his when you handed it over, and neither of you commented on how neither of you pulled back right away.

Trying to focus on literally anything except how his shirt lifted just enough to show the waistband of his boxers and the deep V line leading down.

Flashing that cocky grin.

“Dang you not even gon’ offer me a drink or wipe my sweat or somethin’?”

“I didn’t know ‘neighborhood handyman’ came with customer service demands,” you shot back, leaning on the counter.

He slid out from under the sink, sitting up on his knees. His eyes flicked over you again—longer this time. And it wasn’t funny anymore.

“Damn,” he muttered, looking you over like he was seeing you for the first time all over again. “You really grew up, huh?”

You raised an eyebrow. “That surprise or disappointment in your voice?”

“Nah. Just… something i’m taking note of,” he said, standing up slowly. His shirt clung to his chest now, damp from sweat.

You didn’t move.

Neither did he.

And then— “You missed me, didn’t you,” he said again, stepping closer this time.

You tried to laugh it off, but it came out breathy. “I missed clownin’ you. Big difference.”

His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Nah. You missed me.”

 A beat passed.

 His eyes didn’t leave yours.You didn’t answer at first. You just looked at him—really looked.

“You know I did,” you said finally, your voice lower now, honest in a way it hadn’t been all year.

Sammie stepped closer, “Yeah,” he murmured, “but I wanted to hear you say it.”

 Then his voice dropped, that Southern drawl thick and heavy like honey on your skin. “You just scared.”

That made your head tilt. “Scared?”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer, that cocky smirk returning. “You missed me. You just don’t know what to do with me now that I’m not some lil boy followin’ you around.”

You scoffed. “Ain’t nobody scared of you, Sammie.”

He licked his lips, eyes dragging slow over your body. “You should be,” he murmured. “I ain’t lil no more.”

Your pulse jumped. But your mouth moved before your brain could catch up.

“Then show me how much you’ve grown.”

You reached up, grabbed the front of his shirt, and pulled him in, lips crashing into his like you were done playing games—and he didn’t hesitate, didn’t ease in. He kissed you back like he’d been waiting to shut you up for years.

His hands gripped your waist like he owned it, like they’d been there before in dreams he wouldn’t dare confess. He walked you backward, not even breaking the kiss as you hit the counter behind you, gasping as his mouth dipped to your neck.

“Sammie—wait,” you breathed, your hand curling in his shirt.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his voice a low rumble. “You made me wait long enough.”

Your tank top was halfway up before you could respond, his hands slipping beneath it, thumbs brushing the soft curve of your waist. His lips returned to your throat, to your collarbone, trailing heat with every kiss. One second you were in the kitchen, half-dressed and breathless—and the next?

Your back hit the couch cushions.

He hovered over you, looking down, eyes dark and sure. “Say you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”

You didn’t say a word.

You just reached for him again, pulled him down by the collar of that stretched white tee, and kissed him like you were starving.

His hands slid down, slow and deliberate, slipping beneath your shorts to grip your thighs. You gasped when he lifted you slightly, adjusting your body beneath his like he knew exactly what he wanted and how he wanted it. You felt him, hard and ready, pressing against the inside of your thigh, and it made your breath catch.

“You still scared?” he asked again, voice brushing the shell of your ear as he rolled his hips slowly into yours.

You tried to keep it playful. “I ain't scared of a little boy who had to listen to lullabies to go to sleep till ninth grade.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, then caught your chin between his fingers and tilted your face toward him. "That boy’s gone, baby. Been gone. Let me show you what replaced him."

Then he was pulling your tank top the rest of the way off, eyes devouring every inch of skin like it was the first and last time he’d ever see it. His mouth followed, lips and tongue tasting your collarbone, your chest, teeth grazing just enough to make your back arch.

You moaned his name without meaning to. That only made him bolder.

His fingers slid beneath your shorts, teasing the band of your panties until you whimpered, rocking your hips into his touch. “Damn,” he whispered, "You already this wet for me?"

“Shut up,” you panted.

“Nah,” he said, voice dropping, teasing and full of heat. “I gotta teach you sum real quick.”

His fingers slipped between your pussy lips, slow and slick, finding your rhythm like he’d been studying your body in secret. You gasped, gripping the back of his neck.

“Sammie…”

“Now you know damn well I ain’t little no more, but you’re too fucking stubburn.,” he murmured, slipping one finger inside, then two. Curling them. Stroking that spot that made your thighs tighten around his wrist.

“Say it.”

You shook your head, breathless. “Fuck you.”

He smirked. “That’s the plan.”

He kissed you again—messy, possessive—while his fingers worked you open, coaxing soft cries from your throat. When he finally pulled them out, he looked at you like he was weighing a decision.

Then he tugged his shirt off, muscles flexing as he reached for his belt. Your eyes went wide when he freed his dick, thick and hard, no trace of that 'little boy' anywhere. He caught your expression and leaned down, lips brushing your jaw.

“Still think I’m playing?”

You swallowed hard. “Shut up and show me.”

He did.

He eased into your pussy, inch by slow inch, watching your face the whole time. You moaned his name again, louder this time, and his eyes darkened.

“Damn, baby,” he hissed, gripping your hips. “I know you’ve been wanting this.”

He started to move, slow at first, letting you adjust. Each stroke dragged long and deep, the kind that made your eyes roll back. His lips found your neck again, whispering filthy praise between kisses:

“Look at you… takin’ me so good.”

“Still think I’m that lil boy, huh?”

“Say it, baby. Admit it.”

You couldn’t form words at first—just moans and gasps, fingers digging into his back. But he didn’t stop. He rolled his hips with steady purpose, pushing you higher with every thrust.

When he lifted your leg and angled deeper, you nearly screamed.

“Oh my god—Sammie—”

You started to pull back just a little, breath catching, heart racing. It was almost too much—too good, like you couldn’t handle all of him all at once. Your body wanted more, but your mind flickered with the fear of losing control.

“Why you running?” he laughed, dragging you back against him. “Take this dick like the woman you say you are.”

“You gon’ remember this every time you try to play me like I’m still a lil kid,” he growled, sweat dripping onto your chest as he picked up the pace.

Your nails scratched down his back. “Fuck, you’re grown. Fuck—okay?!”

He smiled against your skin, victorious and still not letting up.

“Say my name,” he growls against your lips.

His strokes are slow, deep, and strategic. Every thrust hitting the right spot again and again.

“Preac…” you almost say out of habit, but the way he grips your thighs, the scent of his cologne, the heat in his stare—it’s too much.

He slows just enough to lean down, lips brushing yours. “Say it right.”

You try to sass back, breath hitching. “Please—Preacher’s b—”

He stops.

Just like that.

Your body whines at the sudden emptiness.

He gives you a cold look, jaw clenched, voice low and cocky.

“Try that nickname again, and I’ll leave you right here—dripping and needy.”

You shoot him a look, trying to tell if he’s bluffing. But no—he’s dead serious. That playful glint is gone, replaced with something darker.

Hungrier.

Still clinging to a shred of pride, you whisper, “Okay, Samm…” You pause, catching yourself—desperate to bring back the friction. Trying to grind against him.

He tilts his head, starts to pull out again. “Try. Again.”

You squirm. “Sammie—please Sammie!”

He grins like the devil and slams into you again, making your back arch off the bed.

“That’s more like it. Now keep sayin’ it—so you never forget who you dealin’ with.”

He doesn’t let up. Just deep, calculated strokes. His voice low in your ear. “I’m grown now, baby… and preacher’s boy ain’t round here no more. But Imma help you remember—every damn time I’m diggin’ inside you.”

He fucked you like a man with something to prove—each thrust rougher, wetter, louder. The slap of skin against skin filled the room along with your cries.

You could barely breathe, let alone think, as his dick filled you over and over, your pussy fluttering around him, gripping every inch.

“Who's grown now?” he grunted.

“You,” you gasped. “You are—fuck, Sammie—”

Your orgasm ripped through you, blinding and hot, your body jerking beneath him.

He followed right after, groaning loud and low as he buried himself deep, hips jerking through his release.

For a long minute, the only sound was the rush of breath between you.

Then you whispered, "Told you I wasn’t scared.", as you smirked against his neck.

He kissed your cheek, lips curling. “You're too stubborn to be scared, but it’s alright. Imma break that habit.”

~ i feel like this was a bit out of character for sammie in the movie, but we can play pretend 😉. Hope yall liked it!💫

Taglist:

@heyyimmisunderstood @marley1773 @sajoi

@melaninbabyboo @hauntedfestivalluminary

@blackpinup22 @milesf4vg1rl @pinkpantheris

@iiiheartfayee @cosmicautomatonshark

@bluejay2503 @omgffs @anaiyaflys143

@pinkpillzsworld @jackierose902109

@serenedragonthought @condenhorn

@thesmutconnoisseur @katsleftnip

@sisi-pink0921 @woahthatshitfat

@cocooned-butterfly @motheroffae

@bumgyalworld @queenbumblebee777

@twistedsistas-stuff @ky1le

@kenziiie @queen-stars2 @sammiesprxncess

@ignotusumbra @goddessofthundathighs

@thickemadame

#black fanfic reader #black fanfic writer #sinners #sinners fanfiction #sinners smut #preacher boy sammie #sammie x reader #preachers boy #sammie sinners #sammie moore

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fireinmoonshot · 2 months ago

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drawing the line | bucky barnes x fem!reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Summary: Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts. Warnings: There are very subtle mentions to reader having some issues mentally but nothing specific is mentioned other than her being very guarded and angry. This is inspired by and takes place during a scene from the Thunderbolts movie! It has direct spoilers for the film! If you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this one yet. Word Count: 1.9k. A/N: It has been three whole years since I wrote for Bucky Barnes. Thanks to Thunderbolts, I am so back 🥰. I had this idea for the movie when I saw it again yesterday and I plotted most of it out at work today. I'm really happy with how it turned out so I hope that you will all enjoy it. More Bucky fics coming soon – as well as more Bob and Joaquín too! 💗 Requests are always open.

Bucky realises he’s made a mistake pretty quickly.

In his defence, he isn’t very good at checking his phone – especially now that he’s a congressman and he has even less time on his hands than usual. But he’d been worried about Mel, the assistant of Valentina, and had figured that by tracking her phone like she’d asked, he might have a better chance at finally taking Valentina down.

If he had read his texts, though, he would’ve seen one from you. Valentina says I have one last mission and my contract is up. I’m on my way. Have a bad feeling about this one though. Can you track me?

Yeah, he’s messed up.

He’s even more certain of that when he’s pulling the unconscious bodies of Ava Starr, Yelena Belova, John Walker and Alexei Shostakov out of the limo he’d blown up and he finds you with them. Thankfully, you’re not injured.

When you come to, the first thing you see is Bucky, sitting opposite you with his eyebrows knotted in worry. For a moment, everything is fuzzy and you’re not sure how you got here – and then everything comes back to you.

You’d been trying to outrun Valentina’s men who’d been coming after you after your escape when Bucky had shown up. Everyone in the car had been more than excited and you’d felt relieved – he’d seen your text and he’d come to save you – until he’d practically blown the limo up with you inside of it.

“What the hell, Bucky?” You blink, squeezing your eyes shut briefly as you adjust to the light in the room. You look around, seeing the others all sat nearby – tied up, some of them even restrained with pieces of metal that Bucky had wrapped around them.

It’s when you see them tied up that you realise you’re not.

“Doll,” Bucky starts, his voice soft. “Listen, I–”

“Do not ‘doll’ me,” you shake your head. “So, blowing up our car and almost killing me is okay, but you draw the line at tying me up?” You motion to the others and then to yourself.

Bucky sighs. He knew you’d be mad, but this is another level of mad. He understands – of course he does, you’d nearly died. But regardless, he’d hoped you’d be a little more lenient. “I didn’t even know you were in the car.”

You raise your eyebrows and scoff. “I text you and say hey, this mission feels wrong and you don’t think twice? Am I talking to Bucky Barnes right now? What happened to the guy that ran seven red lights two months ago when I got into a minor car accident just to make sure I was okay?”

He stands up and runs a hand through his hair, walking a few steps away from you. Behind him, you stand up as well, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down – like you do very well. Bucky knows that you can be stubborn when you want to, but this is the next level to that. He loves your stubborn side. He loves this side of you as well… but he hates that it’s him that the anger is directed at.

This is not the you that he’d been tangled in the sheets with only a few nights ago. This is not the you that had kissed him goodbye before he’d headed off to work last week. This is the you that he’d seen the first time he ever met you. Strong, guarded as hell and pissed off at the world.

“You texted me?” He mutters, and then regrets the words the second they’re out of his mouth. He resists the urge to pull his phone out of his pocket and check his unread messages.

For a second, you just stare at him, and then you start laughing. “I texted you? Are you serious right now?” You exclaim, turning away from him and shaking your head. “No, why on earth would I text my boyfriend when I was going into a potentially life threatening situation set up by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine? I’ll remember that for next time and keep it to myself, since you’re apparently too busy to check.”

“Well, would you have even read my message if I had replied? Considering you were on a mission? Yeah, I don’t think so,” Bucky can’t help but bite back a little.

“No, probably not,” you admit. “Because I don’t have a phone anymore – it fell out of my pocket when I was running for my life back at the vault and then it got incinerated, like I would have if it had been even one second later!”

Your voice is raised even louder now, basically yelling at Bucky, though you hate to do it. You and Bucky never fight like this, not really. But this whole situation has gotten under your skin and you can’t help but be mad at yourself for thinking Bucky had come to save you, when in reality he was just there to kidnap the others for some unknown reason.

Unsurprisingly, there’s nothing that Bucky can say to that. He stares at you, eyes wide as the full gravity of the situation settles on his shoulders. You’d almost been incinerated. And then Bucky had almost killed you himself. Was there any coming back from this?

In the silence, you hear a cough and both of you turn to look over at the others, all of whom are now awake and sitting upright, watching the two of you. How much of your argument had they heard? You wince internally and start to walk towards them.

“You either untie them, or you tie me up with them,” you say, sitting down beside Walker.

Walker looks over at you, a confused look on his face. He obviously had no idea that you’re with Bucky, even though the two of them know each other. You try to ignore the feeling in your stomach, the one that says that maybe Bucky means more to you than you do to him, especially since Walker doesn’t even know about you two.

Bucky thinks it over for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to you again. He crouches down beside you and decides he’s going to try again – even though the eyes of every other person in the room are focused on him. He reaches up to try and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear but you bat his hand away.

“I’m not tied up so I can still tuck my own hair behind my ear, Barnes.”

You turn away from him, looking over at Ava and Alexei.

“This is your boyfriend?” Ava asks, looking between the two of you. “Girl.”

The one word says everything. You almost laugh at her.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to make his decision. He stands up again and then beckons for you to stand up as well. “Stand up and let me tie you up, then,” he says, hoping that he sounds as nonchalant as he is intending to be. Even though not one part of him is actually intending on tying you up. It’s true – he draws the line at that.

You stand up and one second later, Bucky has picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. You yelp, hitting his back as he walks out of the room, leaving the other four alone. “Bucky, what the hell are you doing!?” You exclaim.

He pushes the front door of the garage open with a foot and then kicks it closed behind him. Once he sets you down on the ground outside, you move to push him, but he’s quick to grab your wrists and place them gently on his chest instead. You’re mad, but he’s not going to let you hurt him, or accidentally hurt you more than he already has.

“I’m not continuing this argument inside in front of all of the others,” he says, nodding his head towards the garage and trying to focus on the feeling of your hands on his hands and the pressure of them on his chest. You’re here. You’re alive. He didn’t kill you. Nor did Valentina.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you shake your head and try to pull your hands away, but his grip is too strong. “I’ve said everything that I needed to say in there, Bucky. I asked for your help, you almost killed me yourself. It’s clear enough.”

“You said what you said, but you barely let me get a word in, doll.”

You shrug your shoulders and look away from him, focusing on the mountains in the distance and wonder how long it’ll take the others to get free so you can all get the hell out of here. Even though a small part of you, the part of you that isn’t clouded by your anger right now, wants nothing more than to wrap your arms around Bucky’s body, bury your head in his chest and feel his arms around you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see your message,” he begins, hoping you’ll let him talk. “I’ve been so bad with anything that’s not work these days and trying to bring down Valentina that I’ve put everything else to the side. I shouldn’t have put you there too.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, still unable to look at him.

“I didn’t know you were in that limo when I blew it up. I just knew that there were people in there that could help me bring down Valentina once and for all and I was going to stop that limo at all costs,” he explains. “You don’t know how terrified I was when I saw you were inside of it. I swear, I spent five minutes just checking to make sure you weren’t injured before I brought you all here. I couldn’t bring myself to tie you up after all that, doll.”

“Likely story,” you huff under your breath, as if the thought of him checking you over to make sure you were okay doesn’t make your heart beat faster and your fingers, still pressed to his chest, itch to pull him closer to you.

Bucky removes one of his hands from yours and carefully reaches down to cup your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. You try and restrain yourself for a few moments before eventually meeting his eyes. Just looking in them tells you that he’s speaking the truth.

“I would never do anything knowingly to hurt you, doll,” he says.

“I know,” you reply, voice soft as you try not to lean too much into his hand.

“Then do you forgive me?”

“No,” you shake your head, but in the progress, you can’t help but relax into his grip a little. You let out a sigh, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his hand on your face. “I don’t forgive you yet, Bucky. I need time.”

Bucky nods and lets out a small breath of relief. “I’ll take it.”

You remove one of your hands from Bucky’s chest and place it over the hand that’s still on your jaw. “We need to talk,” you start. “Not you and me, all of us. There are things that happened down there in that vault that you need to know about before we go after Valentina, if we can even get the others to join us.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees. “Just one more thing.” He leans down and presses his lips to your forehead before dropping his hand from your jaw and stepping back away from you, clearly wanting to give you space even though you hadn’t asked for it. The thoughtfulness makes your heart swell in your chest. “C’mon doll, let’s go.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #thunderbolts #thunderbolts x reader #thunderbolts x you #marvel #marvel x you #marvel x reader #mcu

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mynameisjag · 10 months ago

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Prompt by: @shiwalkers-ineffability

DpxDc snarky danny lives in Gotham and is just trying to get a degree but keeps almost getting adopted by various members of the Justice League

“Listen, I’m not like 12 or whatever age you think I am, I am an adult that is going to his class at college, I am near graduation and would like to focus more on that then whatever issue it is you have with me.”

To be fair to Dick, the guy in front of him really did look like a middle schooler…a middle schooler that just came out of a package store with a bag filled with various types of alcohol.

The face glaring up at him still had baby fat, voice still at that young age, a little on the too thin side but not unhealthy yet…he looked like he just got back from the playground. How and why did the store owner sell him alcohol?

“I can see it in your face, it’s the same one all those other heroes had when they ran into me, I have an I.D., I have a job, I fucking pay taxes, I do not need help or supervision. Fuck off.”

And the guy was moving, short legs stomping away.

“Wait, hold on, I still have questions!”

There was a sigh and the kid turned around to stare at him, “What? I do not need the furry brigade busting into my apartment, so get what you want to ask out of the way. Fucking worse then red underwear guy back in Metropolis.”

“You mean Superman?”

“I don’t care what his name is, he thought I was a lost kid and took me to the precinct to call my parents. Got laughed at is all what happened.”

“What’s with all the alcohol?”

“College student, just aced an extremely hard and taxing test and me and some friends are celebrating and it was my turn to do the alcohol run and before you continue on with this, yes, the guy checked my ID, I’m old enough by several years. Just do your weird stalker thing and look me up.”

“Right, ‘weird stalker thing?,’”

“You are not and won’t be the last “hero” to make this mistake.”

Nightwing just smiled and tapped on his communicator, “Hey, Oracle-“

“-Tell Danny I said hi and leave him alone, this is a Babydoll situation.”

“Oh, um, Oracle says hi…”

“Glad she remembers me from the last couple of times, so tell her hello and goodbye, I’m on a schedule.”, and with that Danny was storming off.

“Oof, this happen a lot, O?”

“You have no idea.”

#jag is in a mood #dp x dc #prompt fill #danny phantom #batman #nightwing #immortality young danny

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luna-azzurra · 1 month ago

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Story Starters #3

Found Family Starters (for the ones who thought they’d always be alone—until someone stayed)

✧ They said "I got you" like it was no big deal. But no one’s ever said that to me and meant it. ✧ I didn’t know I could belong somewhere until I walked into that kitchen and someone had already set a plate for me. ✧ We fight. We yell. We steal each other’s snacks. And still, they show up every time I need them. That’s love, I think. ✧ I used to flinch when someone raised their voice. Now I roll my eyes and throw a pillow at them. That’s growth. That’s home. ✧ They know what my silence means. They don’t push. They just sit beside me until I’m ready. ✧ I told them the worst parts of me. They stayed. That’s when I knew. ✧ We don’t say “I love you” out loud. We say “text me when you get home.” “Eat something.” “You can crash here.” ✧ I’m still learning how to trust it. How to not brace for abandonment. But they haven’t left. Not once. ✧ I never believed in unconditional love. But now there’s this couch, and this blanket, and this messy group of weirdos who make space for me. ✧ They’re not blood. But they’re mine.

Cold Girls, Soft Hearts Starters (for the sharp-edged girls who love quietly, fiercely, and would rather die than admit it)

✧ I don’t do soft. But they smiled at me like I was worth something, and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. ✧ I pretend I don’t care. But I remember their coffee order, their favorite color, the way they hate pickles. ✧ I rolled my eyes at their dumb joke. Then laughed. Then hated how much I meant it. ✧ I pushed them away and they still came back. I hate that. I love that. I don’t know. ✧ I said “I don’t need anyone.” But my voice cracked on the last word and I know they heard it. ✧ I tell them to shut up. I mean “don’t go.” ✧ I’m the tough one. The reliable one. The emotionally constipated one. And I’m so, so tired. ✧ They hugged me and I stood there like a statue. But inside, something broke open. ✧ I made fun of them for being sappy. Then went home and replayed everything they said. Twice. ✧ I’m not scared of being hurt. I’m scared of wanting something I can’t protect myself from.

End-of-the-World Vibes (for stories where something big is ending, and something small, and tender, is beginning)

✧ The world is ending and all I want is to feel their hand in mine one more time. ✧ Everything’s falling apart and they’re still making me laugh. How dare they. How beautiful. ✧ If this is the last sunrise, I want to spend it with them. Quiet. Close. Real. ✧ I thought I’d be afraid. But with them here, I’m just… present. And maybe that’s enough. ✧ They looked at me like I was still worth saving. Even now. Especially now. ✧ We kissed like we were running out of time. Because we were. ✧ I wanted a big moment, but instead it was this—my head on their shoulder, the silence stretching soft around us. ✧ We said goodbye like we’d see each other tomorrow. We both knew that wasn’t true. ✧ Maybe the world doesn’t need a hero. Maybe it just needs someone who won’t leave when things get ugly. ✧ I don’t know what comes after this. But if they’re next to me when the lights go out, I think I’ll be okay.

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honeyhaeya · 6 months ago

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Sucker For You

Jeon Wonwoo x F!Reader

genre / tags: smut, romance, humor, slice of life, wonwoo x reader, college au, slow burn to fast burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, cockwarming, gamer wonwoo, subtle dominance, light degradation, reader insert, cute dynamics, playful teasing, soft/dom wonwoo, loser!wonwoo x popular!reader. warnings: explicit sexual content (18+; MDNI), light degradation (terms like "slut" used in consensual play), semi-public encounter (storage room smut scene), cockwarming while gaming, swearing, mention of overstimulation and rough sex, mutual pining, unprotected sex (wrap that boner !). smut warnings: detailed explicit content (penetration, oral, cockwarming), rough sex in semi-public and private settings, use of pet names and light degradation, safe, consensual sexual activity between characters, descriptions of body reactions and sensations. wc: 8,793 (porn with little plot) a/n: to my beloved @kpoppiesofinternet , thank you for giving me the idea. seventeen taglist: @archivistworld <33 Preview: Wonwoo never thought he’d end up here, in his dimly lit apartment, with you perched on his lap, his gaming chair squeaking softly beneath the weight of both your bodies. The glow from his monitor illuminated your face as your cheek rested against his shoulder, your warm breath fanning over his neck. “You’re really good at this,” you murmured, voice laced with awe as his fingers danced skillfully across the keyboard. His lips quirked upward. “I told you, I’m not always a loser.” The way his cock twitched inside you at the sound of your soft, teasing laugh almost had him losing his grip on the game. The warmth of your body around him made every movement sharper, every second harder to concentrate. “Wonwoo, how do you even focus like this?” you whispered, your tone edged with playful disbelief as you clenched around him. His hand stuttered over the mouse for the briefest moment, a hiss escaping his lips. “You’re going to make me lose,” he muttered, jaw tightening. “You said you wouldn’t,” you shot back smugly, your hands sliding up his chest as your thighs flexed around his. “Be quiet, or I’ll make you regret it,” he growled softly, the mic on his headset still live.

Wonwoo stood awkwardly near the corner of the elevator, clutching his phone like it was his lifeline. He didn't even know why he was here—okay, he knew why. Mingyu asked him to get his stuff, but fate decided to test him today.

You. Running toward the elevator, hair bouncing lightly with each step, the pleated skirt swaying just enough to make his brain short-circuit. And that smile you threw him when he awkwardly reached out to hold the elevator door? That should've been illegal. You looked like a dream—pink blouse, effortless charm, and some sort of aura that made every neuron in his head shut down.

Now, he was trapped. Trapped in the best kind of torture.

You stood just a few feet away, scrolling through your phone, seemingly unaware of the chaos you were causing in his head. The sweet scent of your perfume filled the elevator, wrapping around him like a vice. It wasn't overpowering—no, it was subtle, delicate, but absolutely maddening. Wonwoo inhaled slowly, trying not to make it obvious that he preferred your perfume over oxygen right now.

What was he supposed to do? Say something? Compliment you? Laugh at some imaginary joke and hope you joined in?

Instead, he stood there, silent, practically glued to the wall like the loser he was. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the elevator mirror and winced. His hair was slightly messy from running around earlier, his hoodie slightly wrinkled. Meanwhile, you looked like you had stepped out of a movie scene.

The elevator dinged, signaling someone's floor, and Wonwoo almost panicked, realizing it was his. He took a step forward but froze. Should he say goodbye? No, that was weird. Should he—

"Wonwoo, right?"

Your voice broke through his internal monologue, and he turned so fast he almost sprained his neck. You were looking right at him, smiling that same radiant smile, and he swore he might pass out.

"Y-Yeah," he stammered, cursing himself for the crack in his voice.

You tilted your head, eyes sparkling with genuine curiosity. "You were at the festival earlier, right? I think I saw you near the game booths."

Oh. My. God. You noticed him?

"I... uh, yeah. I was just... helping out. Nothing big," he managed, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

"That's cool," you said, the elevator dinging again. The doors opened, and you stepped out, turning to face him briefly. "See you around, Wonwoo."

The doors closed before he could respond, leaving him standing there, wide-eyed, as your scent lingered in the elevator.

"See you around?" he whispered to himself, the tiniest, stupidest grin forming on his lips.

God, he really needed to get his act together. But maybe, just maybe, this wasn't a complete disaster.

Wonwoo didn't know what was worse: the fact that he forgot why he was on this floor in the first place or the fact that you had just casually walked out of nowhere and into his life with the audacity to smile at him like that. Like you knew exactly how your charm was working on him.

He'd stepped out of the elevator to grab Mingyu's bag—it was lying near the corner of the hallway like someone had abandoned it—and then bam, there you were. The sound of your voice, light and teasing, stopped him in his tracks before he even realized it.

"Hey, Wonwoo!" you chirped, juggling a camera, a bouquet of flowers, and a handful of props. How you managed to look so effortlessly composed while holding so much stuff was beyond him. "Did you get lost or something?"

Lost? Yeah, definitely. But not in the way you were implying.

"I... no, I'm just grabbing Mingyu's stuff," he said, his voice a little too quiet, a little too awkward. He shifted on his feet, trying not to meet your eyes for too long because if he did, he might just melt into the floor.

Your grin widened. God, why were you so unfair? "Of course, Mingyu. I see you with him all the time. You two are pretty close, huh?"

Wonwoo blinked. Oh. That was why you noticed him. Mingyu. Of course. Who wouldn't notice Mingyu? Tall, confident, handsome Mingyu, who had a way of commanding attention without even trying. Compared to him, Wonwoo might as well have been a ghost.

He nodded stiffly, biting back the disappointment tugging at his chest. "Yeah, we're friends."

You hummed, a soft, melodic sound that made his stomach twist in knots. As the two of you started walking toward the elevator, you adjusted the camera in your hands, your fingers brushing against the petals of the flowers you carried. "The festival's been fun, huh? I've been running around so much, but I'm definitely going to check out the game booths later. You're helping out there, right?"

Wonwoo felt his heart skip a beat. You knew that he was helping out? You knew something about him that wasn't tied to Mingyu? His brain scrambled to process it, and for a moment, he just stared at you like an idiot before managing a weak, "Y-Yeah, I'll be there."

You smiled again—this time softer, sweeter—and stepped into the elevator with him. The small space felt a little too intimate, your perfume lingering in the air again, and Wonwoo swore the temperature rose by a hundred degrees.

The ride down was quiet at first, save for the soft hum of the elevator. Wonwoo clutched Mingyu's bag tightly, his knuckles white as he tried to act normal. But it was impossible when you were standing right there, so close, your presence making it hard to think straight.

As the elevator dinged, signaling the ground floor, you turned to him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "See you at the game booths, Wonwoo," you said, stepping out before he could even think of a response.

He stared after you, rooted to the spot as the elevator doors closed again. His reflection stared back at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

"Idiot," he muttered to himself, adjusting his grip on the bag. But even as he walked toward the festival grounds, his heart raced at the thought of seeing you again. Maybe, just maybe, being a loser around you wasn't the worst thing in the world.

Wonwoo was pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack.

Your booth was the most popular one in the festival—of course, it was. The crowd seemed drawn to you like moths to a flame, and why wouldn't they be? You stood at the center, effortlessly charming, laughing, and engaging with everyone who passed by. You were magnetic, the kind of person people gravitated toward without even realizing it.

But for Wonwoo, it wasn't just your charm that had him spiraling—it was you. The way your hair caught the light, the way your voice carried over the noise, the way your smile lit up the entire space. And now, thanks to Mingyu's insistence, he was walking straight into the lion's den.

"Come on, Wonwoo. Don't be weird," Mingyu had teased, dragging him toward your booth. "She's cool. You're cool. Just... be normal for once around her."

Normal? Wonwoo felt like he was about to combust.

When the two of them finally reached your booth, you were busy helping another group of students, but the second your eyes lifted, they landed on him. Not Mingyu. Not the crowd. Him.

Wonwoo swore time slowed down for a moment. Was he imagining it? The slight glint of recognition in your gaze? The tiny smile that tugged at the corners of your lips? He couldn't help the way his heart stuttered in his chest.

"Wonwoo! Mingyu!" you called, stepping closer to the front of the stall, holding a bunch of roses in your hands. You looked so natural, so perfect, standing there surrounded by flowers and festival decorations. "You guys finally made it!"

He wanted to respond, maybe say something clever or funny, but his brain had completely shut down. All he could do was nod stiffly, hands shoved deep into his hoodie pocket, while Mingyu carried the conversation like the social butterfly he was.

But then, something unexpected happened. Instead of handing the roses to Mingyu—like Wonwoo had braced himself for—you turned directly to him.

"These are for you," you said softly, holding out three perfectly bloomed roses.

Wonwoo froze, his eyes flicking between the roses and your face like he couldn't believe what was happening. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out to take them, his fingers brushing against yours for the briefest moment.

He thought that would be the end of it, but then you grabbed a Polaroid camera from the table and grinned up at him. "Come here. Let's take a picture."

"A—A picture?" His voice cracked, and he could feel Mingyu silently laughing at him, but he didn't care. His entire world had narrowed to just you and that camera in your hands.

Before he could process what was happening, you grabbed his arm and pulled him closer, positioning him just beside you. The proximity was almost too much—your perfume, the warmth of your hand on his arm, the way you were so effortlessly close.

"Smile!" you said cheerfully, leaning slightly toward him as you held up the camera.

Wonwoo tried. He really did. But the second the camera clicked, all he could feel was the way his breath hitched, his heart racing as if it wanted to escape his chest.

When you handed him the freshly printed Polaroid, your smile softened. "A little keepsake," you said, like it was the most normal thing in the world to turn him into a blushing mess.

Wonwoo stared at the picture in his hands, the image of the two of you together making his chest tighten. You looked radiant, as always, while he... well, he looked like someone who was trying desperately not to pass out.

"Thanks," he managed to mumble, clutching the photo and the roses like they were the most precious things he'd ever owned.

As Mingyu dragged him away a few moments later, laughing about how he'd looked like a deer in headlights, Wonwoo couldn't stop glancing at the picture.

Maybe he was a loser. Maybe he didn't have a chance. But for a brief moment, it felt like he was the luckiest guy in the world.

Wonwoo froze in his tracks, the sound of your voice ringing in his ears like the opening notes of his favorite song. He wasn't even sure why he stopped—it wasn't like he hadn't heard you talk before. But this time, there was something different. Something that pulled him in before he could even process it.

And then the words hit him.

"I thought Wonwoo was like the type who would be dominant."

He blinked. His brain short-circuited. What?

You said his name. You were talking about him. And not just in a passing, "Oh, that guy in my class" kind of way. This was... something else.

Wonwoo wanted to walk away. He really did. He wasn't the type to eavesdrop, especially on something so clearly private. But his feet refused to move, like they were rooted to the spot. His heart was beating so loudly he was sure you could hear it from where you were.

"So? You're like, obsessed with the guy. Ask him out already."

That voice—your friend's, probably—snapped him out of his trance. But only for a second, because then the full weight of the sentence hit him like a truck.

Obsessed?

No. No way. There was no way you—the girl who practically lit up every room you walked into, the girl he could barely string two words together around—liked him. That was impossible. He must've misheard.

"Yeah, but, what if he doesn't like me?" Your voice was quieter now, a little unsure. "He sounds... well, I guess, uncomfy around me?"

Wonwoo's heart sank. Uncomfortable? No, that wasn't right. That wasn't even close. If anything, you made him feel so many things that his brain just shut down when you were near. He regretted every awkward pause, every stuttered word, every time he'd avoided your gaze because he thought it'd be too obvious how much he liked you.

"I dunno," your friend replied casually. "Better find out."

Wonwoo barely had time to process those words before he heard footsteps—yours and your friend's—approaching. His body went into panic mode, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he forced himself to move, walking a little faster and trying not to look like a total weirdo.

But his mind? It was chaos.

You liked him.

Or at least, that's what it sounded like. But could he trust what he'd overheard? What if he'd misunderstood? What if it was some kind of cruel joke?

And yet, as he made his way down the hallway, heart pounding in his chest, one thought drowned out all the others:

I need to talk to her.

Wonwoo didn't know how he ended up back at the festival booth with Mingyu. His legs had carried him here automatically, but his mind? His mind was still replaying your words on a loop.

"What if he doesn't like me?" "He sounds... uncomfy around me."

The guilt was eating him alive. Was that what he'd made you feel? Uncomfortable? Because if you knew how many times he'd stayed up at night thinking about you, if you knew how much he wanted to talk to you but just couldn't seem to get his stupid, nervous self together, you'd know it wasn't you. It was him.

"Dude, you okay?" Mingyu's voice cut through his thoughts like a slap to the face.

Wonwoo blinked, realizing he'd been gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were white. He quickly loosened his hold, shaking his head. "I'm fine."

"You sure?" Mingyu squinted, suspicious. "You look like you've just seen a ghost. Or maybe you've finally realized how insanely hot Y/N is. Honestly, about time—"

"I don't need your commentary, Mingyu," Wonwoo muttered, his cheeks turning crimson at the mention of your name. He couldn't deal with Mingyu's teasing right now, not when his heart was already doing acrobatics.

"Alright, alright," Mingyu said with a laugh, throwing his hands up in surrender. "But if you're crushing on her—"

"Mingyu, stop."

Unfortunately, Mingyu didn't stop. If anything, the grin on his face widened. "Look, Y/N's literally over there. If you have something to say, just go say it. You're so tense, it's giving me secondhand stress."

Wonwoo followed Mingyu's gaze, and sure enough, there you were, standing by your booth, chatting with a group of students. You looked... radiant. Even in the middle of a crowded, noisy festival, you stood out like a beacon, your smile brighter than all the string lights strung across the campus.

And then, like fate—or maybe just the universe playing tricks on him—you turned your head. Your eyes locked onto his.

Wonwoo froze.

You didn't. Instead, you smiled. That same smile that made him forget how to breathe. And to his absolute horror, you started walking toward him.

Oh no. Oh no, no, no.

"Hey, Wonwoo!" Your voice was warm, light, the same voice that had just a few minutes ago said... those things.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to stay rooted to the spot even though every instinct screamed at him to bolt. "H-Hey," he stammered, cursing himself for the way his voice cracked.

You tilted your head, holding a clipboard in one hand. "Can I ask you a favor?"

Wonwoo blinked. "A favor?"

"Yeah." You stepped closer, and he swore he could smell your perfume again—the same scent that had completely ruined him in the elevator earlier. "I need someone to help me carry some of the booth supplies to the storage room after the festival. You seem pretty strong. Think you could help me out?"

Strong? Him? Wonwoo felt like he was going to combust.

"Uh, yeah," he managed to say, though it came out more like a squeak. "Sure. I can do that."

Your smile widened, and if he thought his heart couldn't race any faster, he was wrong. "Great! You're the best, Wonwoo."

The best? Him? He wanted to laugh—bitterly, nervously, something—but he didn't. Instead, he just nodded like a fool, watching as you handed him the clipboard.

"I'll come find you when it's time, okay?" you said, your tone so casual, so sweet, like this was no big deal. Like you didn't even realize what you were doing to him.

And then you were gone, back to your booth, leaving Wonwoo standing there clutching the clipboard like it was a lifeline.

"Dude," Mingyu said, clapping him on the back. "You're so in. Don't mess this up."

Wonwoo didn't reply. How could he, when his brain was still screaming one thing over and over?

You liked him. You really liked him.

And now, he had to figure out how to not be a complete loser long enough to tell you he liked you too.

The moment you pulled Wonwoo into the storage room, he swore his brain short-circuited. It was just the two of you in this small, dimly lit space, surrounded by forgotten boxes and leftover props from past festivals. His heart pounded so loudly he was sure you could hear it.

"Alright," you said, scanning the shelves for something. "I just need to find these last few things, and we're done."

But he was done. Done for. The way you tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the subtle sway of your body as you moved—it all felt so deliberate, so... seductive. His eyes trailed down your frame without meaning to, lingering on your pleated skirt and the soft curve of your waist.

"It's getting kinda hot in here, don't you think, Wonwoo?"

The sound of his name rolling off your lips—soft, teasing, and just a little too intentional—sent a shiver down his spine. He didn't know if the heat you mentioned was literal or if you'd turned the temperature in the room up just by existing.

"Uh... yeah," he stammered, tugging at his collar like some kind of cliché. God, pull yourself together.

You turned to look at him, that same damn smile on your lips, and stepped closer, the soft click of your shoes on the floor echoing in the quiet room. "You've been awfully quiet, you know. I was starting to think you didn't want to help me after all."

"N-no, I—" He choked on his words as you closed the distance, your eyes locking onto his.

"You know," you said, tilting your head, "I kind of like this side of you. Quiet. Nervous. It's... cute."

Wonwoo's brain went haywire. Cute? Did you just call him cute?

Before he could even process that, you reached up, your fingers brushing against the side of his face as you adjusted his glasses. "But you don't always have to be so shy, you know. I wouldn't bite. Unless..."

His breath hitched as your voice dropped to a whisper. "You want me to."

And that was it. The last thread of his self-control snapped.

In a move that shocked even himself, Wonwoo grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not harsh. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between your bodies.

"You think I'm shy?" he asked, his voice low, surprising even himself with the confidence that came out of nowhere.

Your eyes widened slightly, but the smirk that followed was enough to make his knees weak. "Aren't you?"

"Not right now," he murmured, and before he could lose his nerve, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was all pent-up desire and raw, messy emotion.

You froze for a split second before melting into him, your hands gripping the front of his shirt as you kissed him back, matching his intensity.

It was everything Wonwoo had dreamed about during countless sleepless nights, and yet, it was so much more. The way your lips moved against his, the quiet little sound you made in the back of your throat, the way your body pressed against his like you were made to fit together—it was overwhelming in the best way.

Somewhere in the haze of it all, your back hit the shelf, and a box toppled to the floor with a loud thud, but neither of you cared.

"Wonwoo," you gasped against his lips, your voice breathy and filled with something that made him shiver. "I—"

He didn't let you finish, his lips trailing down to your neck, his hands roaming up and down your sides, trying to memorize every curve and dip of your body.

"God, you're driving me insane," he murmured, his words muffled against your skin. "Do you even know what you do to me?"

Your laugh was soft, teasing, and entirely too addictive. "Maybe. But you're not as much of a loser as I thought."

That made him pause, just for a moment, pulling back to look at you with a mix of disbelief and amusement. "You thought I was a loser?"

You grinned, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. "Not anymore."

Whatever shred of composure he had left was gone. He crashed his lips against yours again, and this time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing, just pure, unfiltered want.

Wonwoo froze for a moment, his breath hitching as you ground yourself against him, your movements slow, deliberate, and absolutely maddening. His head was spinning, and it was like something inside him snapped. He wasn't going to hold back anymore.

He grabbed your hips roughly, pressing you firmly against the shelf, his lips ghosting over your ear as his voice dropped an octave. "You really like testing me, don't you?"

Your breath caught, and before you could reply, his mouth was on yours again, demanding, relentless, leaving no room for anything but him. His teeth caught your bottom lip, pulling it gently before he let it go, smirking when he saw your dazed expression.

"Look at you," he murmured, his hands sliding up to cup your waist as you clung to him. "Acting all innocent, but you're nothing more than a needy little slut, aren't you?"

The word sent a jolt through you, heat pooling low in your stomach as you met his gaze, half-lidded and full of fire. "Wonwoo..."

"Say it," he growled, his fingers digging into your hips as he pressed himself harder against you. "Say you like it when I take control."

You hesitated, your pride battling with the undeniable heat coursing through you, but when his lips trailed down your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses that made your knees weak, you couldn't help but gasp out, "I like it."

"Good girl," he murmured against your skin, his tone dark and dripping with approval. His hands moved to your blouse, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons one by one, exposing the soft curves of your body.

"You're so desperate for me, aren't you?" he teased, his lips brushing against your collarbone. "I see the way you look at me—don't think I haven't noticed."

You let out a soft whimper as his hands slid under your skirt, gripping your thighs with a possessiveness that made your heart race.

"Wonwoo, please," you whispered, barely able to think straight with the way he was touching you, his hands, his mouth, his everything overwhelming your senses.

"Please what?" he asked, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was intense, burning with a mix of hunger and control. "Use your words."

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing as you struggled to find the words, but when his hand slid higher, you couldn't hold back. "Please... f- fuck me."

His smirk widened, and he leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "That's what I thought."

He didn't hold back after that, his hands and mouth everywhere, leaving you breathless and entirely at his mercy. The shy, hesitant Wonwoo you thought you knew was gone, replaced by someone who knew exactly what he wanted—and wasn't afraid to take it.

And you? You didn't stand a chance.

Wonwoo felt the pool of wetness of your cunt through the fabric of your underwear. He pulled it aside before inserting two fingers in you. "You're already wet with just a few kisses?"

You gasped, moaned at the feeling of his long, lean fingers entering you in and out slowly but roughly. He already found that spongy spot that made you almost lose your balance. Luckily, his other hand kept you in place. "You're fucking unbelievable."

Your moans filled the room as he edges you through the feeling of his fingers in you. It wasn't long before he has you cumming on his hand, squirting. "W- Wonwoo.." You whimpered, gasping like crazy.

He held you before pulling his fingers out, smirking before sucking on his damped fingers. Before you could say anything, he kissed you, intentionally wanting for you to taste yourself.

Your head was spinning, but you knew you wanted more. So you held the bulge from his pants, his cock hard and long. You dropped to your knees as you hastily try to take his pants off.

Wonwoo could just smirk as he looks at you with a mix of awe and smugness. Who knew you'd be like this to him?

You pulled his pants and underwear down and his cock sprung. It was big, too big for you to handle. But you didn't think of anything else, just Wonwoo.

You opened your mouth, held his cock with both of your hands before stroking it as you lick the tip of his cock. You put him in and you had him grunting, grabbing a bunch of your hair as he helps you bob your head over his cock. "F- Fuck, you're good at this."

He loved the warmth of your mouth too much, he almost felt like he was cumming. Your tongue swirled over his cock as your hands humped his dick, and that was it, he cummed in your mouth.

It was hot, and you swallowed the most you can and a little spilling over your lips.

He carries you up, and you wanted to beg him to just fuck you right there. Your inner thighs were glistening by the wetness your pussy was making.

"P- please help me..." You whimpered as Wonwoo's lips bit the skin of your neck. He smirked before aligning himself in between your thighs, cock meeting the entrance of your soaked cunt.

"You're hopeless," Wonwoo replied, before grabbing your thigh, raising it over his waist and finally enters you fully.

Wonwoo grunts, your moans like a melody to his ears. He started roughly. It was making you lose your mind. He knew how to position himself to make things a hundred times better.

He thrusted so roughly you felt like you were about to pass out. His name came out from your lips, like a praise.

"You're amazing," Wonwoo says as his hips snaps back and forth. The sounds in the small room sounded too unholy. Too lustful. Skin-to-skin slapping each other with each squelch and pounding.

Your walls were swallowing his cock. Wonwoo held your back, his other hand still carrying your thigh as he uses it to pull you even closer so he can thrust easier.

"You're so fucking tight," Wonwoo growled, his voice low and strained as his hips snapped relentlessly into yours. The pleasure was overwhelming, his cock filling you perfectly with every thrust. Your body arched against him, your nails digging into his back as he continued to hit that perfect spot that made you see stars.

Your moans grew louder, unfiltered and raw, each one driving Wonwoo closer to the edge. He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "Look at you," he murmured, his tone dripping with condescension. "Begging for me like a needy little slut. You wanted this, didn't you?"

You whimpered, unable to form a coherent reply as he continued to pound into you, his hand sliding from your thigh to your waist, gripping you tightly to keep you exactly where he wanted you. The new angle made you cry out, your walls clenching around him in response.

"You're taking me so well," he praised, his voice husky. "God, you feel so fucking good." His lips found your neck again, leaving marks that you knew you'd see later, but in that moment, you didn't care.

Your hands slid up to his hair, tugging at the dark strands as you moaned his name like it was the only word you knew. Wonwoo groaned at the sensation, his thrusts becoming even rougher, more desperate.

"You're mine," he growled, his hand moving to grip your chin, tilting your face up to meet his intense gaze. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you gasped, the words spilling out without hesitation. "I'm yours, Wonwoo."

A dark smirk spread across his lips as he claimed your mouth in a bruising kiss, his hips never faltering. The room was filled with the sound of your moans, his grunts, and the obscene slap of skin against skin. It was intoxicating, overwhelming, and everything you never knew you needed.

Your body trembled as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. Wonwoo could feel it too, the way your walls fluttered around him, and he growled in approval.

"Come for me," he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. "I want to feel you fall apart on my cock."

The combination of his words, his touch, and the relentless pace of his thrusts sent you over the edge, your climax washing over you like a tidal wave. Your walls clenched tightly around him, and the sensation was enough to push Wonwoo to his limit.

"Fuck," he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his body shuddering as he spilled into you, his grip on your waist tightening as he rode out his high.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, the only sound in the room your heavy breaths as you both came down from the intensity of what had just happened. Wonwoo leaned his forehead against yours, his dark eyes searching yours as a small, satisfied smirk played on his lips.

"Still think I'm a loser?" he teased, his voice low and slightly breathless.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, your cheeks flushed. "No," you whispered, pulling him down for another kiss.

The rest of the world ceased to exist. It was just you and him, tangled together in the dim storage room, your laughter and gasps filling the space.

For once, Wonwoo didn't feel like a loser to you. He felt like the luckiest guy in the world.

Wonwoo finally pulled back, his lips brushing your forehead softly—a stark contrast to the firestorm that had just taken place. His hands stayed on your waist, steadying you as you struggled to catch your breath. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence heavy with the weight of what just happened.

"Um..." you finally murmured, your voice still breathy, and his gaze flicked to yours. "That was... unexpected."

Wonwoo chuckled lowly, the sound reverberating through his chest. "Yeah, no kidding."

You both shared a small, sheepish laugh, the tension melting ever so slightly as reality began to settle in. But before you could even begin to overthink what had just transpired, Wonwoo brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch lingering a little longer than necessary.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softer now, his concern evident in his tone.

You nodded, the corners of your lips lifting into a small smile. "More than okay. That was..." You trailed off, biting your lip as heat rushed to your cheeks. "Let's just say you've got nothing to worry about in the loser department."

Wonwoo snorted, shaking his head, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed his confidence. "Yeah, well, don't go spreading that around. I've got a reputation to maintain."

"Oh, trust me," you teased, poking his chest playfully. "Your secret's safe with me."

As the two of you began to straighten yourselves out—fixing clothes, smoothing hair, and trying not to look too disheveled—Wonwoo found himself stealing glances at you, the glow of your post-climactic state making you look even more radiant.

When you caught him staring, you raised an eyebrow, smirking. "What? Regretting it already?"

His eyes widened, and he shook his head vehemently. "No! God, no." He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just... wondering how the hell I got so lucky."

Your heart fluttered at his words, but you played it cool, rolling your eyes with a grin. "Guess you're not such a loser after all."

Before either of you could say more, a loud knock at the storage room door startled you both, followed by Mingyu's unmistakable voice. "Hey! Wonwoo? You in there? We need those props ASAP!"

Your eyes widened, and Wonwoo groaned, his head falling back as he muttered under his breath, "Perfect timing, as always."

You quickly gathered the remaining items, trying not to giggle as Wonwoo shot you an exasperated look. "Guess we'll have to finish this conversation later," you whispered, brushing past him on your way to the door.

But before you could open it, Wonwoo grabbed your wrist, pulling you back gently. "Wait," he said, his voice low.

You turned to face him, your breath catching as his dark eyes bore into yours. "Can I see you later? I mean, outside of this," he gestured vaguely to the props and the chaos outside. "Like... for real?"

Your lips curved into a soft smile, and you nodded. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Fast-forward a few days later...

The awkwardness between you and Wonwoo didn't last long—not after he made it a point to text you later that night, asking if you'd gotten home safely. That small gesture opened the door to something more, and over the next few days, the two of you found yourselves gravitating toward each other more and more.

From stolen glances in the hallways to whispered conversations during class breaks, it became clear that whatever spark had ignited in that storage room wasn't going to fizzle out anytime soon.

Wonwoo surprised you with his wit and dry humor, and you loved how his quiet confidence contrasted with your own lively personality. He'd walk you to your booth during the festival, lingering just long enough to make your heart race before retreating to his usual spot with Mingyu.

But the best moments were the ones you shared when no one else was around—like the late-night coffee runs where he'd listen intently as you rambled about your latest project, or the times he'd let his guard down and tell you about his favorite video games and why he loved them.

One evening, as the festival wound down, you found yourselves sitting on the steps of an empty amphitheater, the cool night air wrapping around you like a blanket. Wonwoo handed you his hoodie when he noticed you shivering, his fingers brushing yours in the process.

"Thanks," you said softly, pulling it over your head and inhaling the faint scent of him that clung to the fabric.

"You look better in it than I do," he murmured, his gaze fixed on you in a way that made your cheeks heat up.

You nudged him playfully, breaking the moment with a laugh. "Careful, Jeon Wonwoo. You're starting to sound like a total simp."

He smirked, leaning back on his elbows. "Maybe I am."

Your laughter died down as you looked at him, the vulnerability in his expression making your heart swell. "For what it's worth," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, "I like this version of you—the one who's confident enough to go after what he wants."

Wonwoo's lips curved into a small smile, and he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. "And for what it's worth," he replied, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, "I'm really glad you think so."

You didn't expect to end up in Wonwoo's apartment after the festival. Well, maybe you did—it wasn't like he hadn't been hinting at it all evening. But still, sitting on his couch in his slightly-too-big hoodie (the same one he let you borrow earlier), surrounded by shelves lined with games and a setup that screamed gamer aesthetic, you couldn't help but smile to yourself.

"What's so funny?" Wonwoo asked, glancing at you from where he was setting up his console. His glasses perched on his nose made him look ridiculously adorable, and you couldn't stop staring.

"Nothing," you replied with a sly grin. "Just thinking how your apartment is exactly what I imagined—complete with the snacks and random figurines everywhere."

He rolled his eyes but smirked anyway. "Yeah? And what did you expect, a penthouse?"

"No," you teased. "Maybe something with fewer RGB lights."

He scoffed. "Hate on my lights all you want, but you're the one about to lose at Mario Kart."

You raised an eyebrow, leaning back into the couch. "Oh, you think so? I'll have you know I'm a beast at this game."

Wonwoo chuckled, handing you a controller. "We'll see about that."

It started innocently enough—both of you yelling at the screen, throwing blue shells, and arguing over whether or not banana peels were strategically placed. But then the stakes got higher.

"If I win this round," you said, your competitive streak showing, "you owe me dinner next time."

Wonwoo smirked, leaning closer to you. "And if I win?"

You tilted your head, pretending to think. "Fine. You get to pick the next game we play. But I'm warning you, I'm not going easy on you."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Alright, deal."

The game started, and for the first few laps, you held the lead, much to Wonwoo's frustration. "No way. How are you this good?" he muttered, his fingers flying over the controller.

"Skill, baby," you replied, sticking your tongue out at him.

But then, in the final stretch, he managed to throw a red shell at you, sending your character spinning out of control just before the finish line. Wonwoo's triumphant laugh filled the room as his character crossed first.

"No way!" you yelled, throwing your controller onto the couch. "You cheated!"

"Cheating? That's just strategy," he replied smugly, leaning back and crossing his arms like he owned the place.

You huffed, crossing your arms. "Fine. What's your pick for the next game, loser?"

But instead of answering, Wonwoo leaned closer, his smirk softening into something more genuine. "I think I've got something better in mind," he murmured.

Before you could react, he closed the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was somehow both soft and desperate. Your surprise melted into eagerness as you kissed him back, your hands reaching up to tug at the hoodie he was wearing.

"Wonwoo..." you breathed as he pulled back, his eyes dark and hooded.

"You said I'm a loser," he muttered, his voice low as he pushed you gently against the couch. "But if I'm a loser, I'm your loser."

You let out a soft laugh, but it quickly turned into a gasp as his lips found your neck, his hands wandering under the hem of your borrowed hoodie.

"You're really full of yourself tonight, huh?" you teased, your fingers sliding up the back of his shirt, nails grazing his skin.

Wonwoo smirked against your skin, his teeth nipping at your collarbone. "What can I say? Winning feels good."

Your banter dissolved into something much steamier as he pulled the hoodie over your head, his hands roaming your body with newfound confidence. His touch was deliberate, teasing, and so much more dominant than you expected from him.

"You talk too much," he murmured, his voice rough, as he captured your lips again, his hands gripping your thighs to pull you onto his lap.

"Make me stop," you challenged, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

Wonwoo growled softly, his hands sliding under your shorts as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Oh, I will."

The room was filled with sounds of teasing as the two of you made out, kissing, giggling.

And from there, any semblance of restraint between you two disappeared. The games forgotten, the only sounds filling the room were soft gasps, hushed whispers, and the occasional murmur of each other's names.

It changed when Mingyu texted Wonwoo to play league with him.

You didn't think this is where the night would go—sitting on Wonwoo's lap, his cock buried deep inside you, while his hands moved deftly over his keyboard and mouse. The glow from his monitor illuminated the room in a way that made the scene feel even more illicit, like you shouldn't be here, doing this, but neither of you cared.

"Stay still," Wonwoo murmured, his voice low but commanding, the same tone he'd used earlier when he coaxed you into this position.

You swallowed hard, your hands gripping the edges of his desk to keep yourself steady. Every slight movement sent a shiver through your body, and you bit your lip, trying to stay quiet.

Wonwoo's focus was split—one part on the game playing out in front of him, the other on the way your walls clenched around him every time he moved slightly. His mic was on, and his teammates' voices filled the headset, unaware of the situation he was in.

"Wonwoo, you good?" Mingyu's voice crackled through his headphones. "You're quiet tonight."

Wonwoo chuckled softly, his voice steady despite the way his hands had momentarily gripped your waist to still you when you squirmed. "Yeah, I'm good. Just focusing."

Focusing? That was a lie. How could he focus when you were here, squirming on his lap, your breath hitching every time he adjusted in his chair?

"Stop moving," he muttered, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Unless you want them to hear you."

You glared at him, but your resolve crumbled when his hand slid up your thigh, squeezing it lightly. It was a warning, and you knew better than to test him right now.

"Wonwoo, watch the top lane!" one of his teammates shouted, bringing him back to the game.

"I'm on it," he replied smoothly, his fingers moving with precision as he skillfully navigated the game. His calmness was infuriating, especially when you were struggling to keep your composure.

Every time his hips shifted, even slightly, it sent sparks through your body. He knew it too, the smirk on his lips giving him away.

You bit down on your lip to stifle a whimper when he adjusted his position again, the movement causing him to press even deeper inside you.

"Something wrong?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "You look like you're struggling."

You wanted to snap back, but you couldn't trust yourself to speak without making a sound that would give away what was happening.

Instead, you clenched around him intentionally, earning a soft grunt from him.

"Careful," he warned, his voice dropping to that commanding tone that made your stomach flip. "Don't start something you can't finish."

You wanted to test him, but the sound of Mingyu's voice pulled you back to reality.

"Wonwoo, you're carrying this game, man!"

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating through you. "What can I say? I'm just that good."

You rolled your eyes at his confidence, but you couldn't deny that watching him play with such ease was undeniably attractive. His focus, his skill, the way his hands moved—it all had you feeling more heated than you already were.

When the game ended, and the victory screen flashed on the monitor, Wonwoo finally leaned back in his chair, his hands resting on your hips.

"Guess I'm a winner after all," he teased, his voice low and smug.

You turned to glare at him, but before you could say anything, he shifted his hips, drawing a gasp from you that you quickly stifled with your hand.

"Careful," he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck. "We wouldn't want them to hear, would we?"

"God, you're insufferable," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, his hands tightening on your hips. "And yet, here you are."

Wonwoo's breath hitched as you shifted slightly on his lap, your walls squeezing him involuntarily. His hands gripped your waist tighter, the control he was trying so hard to maintain beginning to falter.

"Careful," he rasped, his voice low and strained, his forehead pressing against yours. "You don't want to push your luck."

You tilted your head innocently, even as a sly smile spread across your lips. "What's wrong? I thought you were supposed to be 'dominant,' Mr. Pro Gamer."

His jaw clenched at your teasing, and the veins in his neck became more pronounced. The challenge in your tone, coupled with the sensation of your warmth around him, was driving him insane.

"You're playing with fire," he growled, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to steady you—but it only made you grind against him slightly.

"Am I?" you whispered, leaning closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "Because it seems like I'm the one in control right now."

That was it. The last straw. Wonwoo's patience snapped.

His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them firmly as he lifted you slightly, only to slam you back down onto his length, making you gasp. "You really don't know when to stop, do you?"

The sudden force made you cling to his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin as a moan slipped past your lips. "W-Wonwoo—"

"Shh," he cut you off, his voice commanding as he kissed along your jaw, biting softly before moving to your neck. "Be quiet. You wouldn't want my teammates to hear how desperate you sound, would you?"

Your breath caught as his words sank in, but before you could respond, he lifted you again, this time at a torturously slow pace, making you feel every inch of him as he lowered you back down.

The friction was unbearable, your body trembling as he set a rhythm that was deliberate and punishingly slow, as if he was determined to prove a point. His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, his voice dripping with smugness. "Look at you... so cocky earlier, but now you're nothing but a messy little thing in my lap."

"Wonwoo, please," you whimpered, the slow pace driving you to the brink of insanity.

"Please what?" he taunted, his movements halting completely as he held you in place, his length buried deep inside you. "You want something, you're gonna have to say it."

You bit your lip, refusing to give in to his game. But when he flexed his hips ever so slightly, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body, you broke. "Please... I need you to move."

His lips curled into a smirk, and he raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

Without warning, he snapped his hips upward, a sharp thrust that made you cry out. He didn't give you a chance to recover as he set a relentless pace, his hands guiding your movements as he worked you over his length.

The lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room, accompanied by the muffled noises you tried desperately to suppress. Wonwoo's name fell from your lips like a mantra, each syllable laced with desperation and need.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his head falling back as he tried to keep himself from completely unraveling. "Fuck, you feel so good."

The heat pooling in your stomach was reaching its peak, and you could tell from the way Wonwoo's thrusts were becoming more erratic that he was close too.

"Wonwoo, I—I'm gonna—"

"Me too," he grunted, his grip on you tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, his movements becoming sloppier. "Come for me, baby. I wanna feel you."

With one final thrust, the coil inside you snapped, sending waves of pleasure crashing through your body. Your walls clenched around him, drawing a guttural moan from his throat as he followed you over the edge, his release spilling into you in hot spurts.

The two of you stayed like that for a moment, your bodies trembling and pressed together as you caught your breath. Wonwoo's forehead rested against yours, his chest heaving as he let out a breathless laugh.

"Still think I'm a loser?" he teased, his voice hoarse but playful.

You smiled weakly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Maybe a little... but you're my loser."

His grin widened, and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, the tenderness of the gesture a stark contrast to what had just transpired. "I'll take it."

And as you nestled against him, the warmth of his arms around you, you couldn't help but think that being with him like this felt exactly right.

Wonwoo gently leaned back in his chair, his arms still wrapped securely around you as he tried to catch his breath. His lips brushed over your temple, a soft chuckle escaping him. "You really do know how to distract me, huh?"

You giggled, nuzzling into his neck, still feeling the aftershocks of what just happened. "Distract? Please. You're the one who can't keep his hands to himself."

He raised an eyebrow at you, amusement sparkling in his eyes. "Says the one who begged me to move."

Your face flushed at his teasing, and you smacked his shoulder lightly. "Shut up, Wonwoo."

He just laughed, the sound deep and warm, before finally shifting under you. The sudden movement made you gasp softly, and your eyes widened as you realized he was still very much inside you.

"Wonwoo..." you whispered, the heat rising to your cheeks.

He smirked at your reaction, his hands resting on your waist as he adjusted you in his lap. "What? You're comfortable, aren't you?"

"I—" You bit your lip, your gaze darting away from his. You couldn't deny it; there was something intoxicating about the feeling of being so close to him, of him still filling you completely.

"Good," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as his fingers traced slow circles on your bare thighs. "Because I'm not letting you go just yet."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and before you could protest, he reached over to his desk, grabbing his headphones and slipping them over his ears.

"Wait, what are you doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of curiosity and disbelief.

He turned to his computer, the familiar sound of a game loading up filling the air. "I've got a match in five minutes," he said casually, as if you weren't still perched on his lap, his cock nestled snugly inside you.

Your jaw dropped. "Wonwoo, are you serious right now?"

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Dead serious. But don't worry..." He adjusted his microphone, the green light signaling that it was on. "You just have to sit there and be quiet. Think you can manage that, baby?"

You stared at him, torn between disbelief and amusement. The audacity.

"Wonwoo," you hissed, your voice low to avoid being picked up by his mic. "You can't just—"

"Shh," he interrupted, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before turning his attention back to the screen. "Game's starting. Be a good girl for me, okay?"

The heat in your cheeks intensified, and you squirmed slightly in his lap, only to freeze when you felt him twitch inside you. His grip on your hips tightened, and he shot you a warning look.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. "Unless you want everyone to know exactly what we're doing right now."

Your eyes widened, and you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stay still as he started his game. The sound of his teammates' voices filled the room, and you could hear Wonwoo's calm, composed replies as he coordinated their strategy.

Meanwhile, you were doing everything in your power to keep your breathing steady, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. The sensation of him still inside you was overwhelming, every slight movement or shift making you hyper-aware of just how intimate this was.

But what drove you even crazier was how unfazed he seemed, his focus completely on the game as if nothing was out of the ordinary. His calm demeanor, his steady voice—it was infuriatingly attractive.

Every now and then, his hand would leave the keyboard to rest on your thigh, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if he was reminding you who was in control, even in the middle of a match.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the soft whimper that threatened to escape when he shifted slightly in his chair, the movement sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Wonwoo..." you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. "I said be quiet, baby. Or do you want them to hear how good I make you feel?"

Your breath hitched, and you shook your head quickly, your cheeks burning.

He smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple before returning his attention to the game. "That's my girl."

As the match continued, you couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly he played, his movements precise and skillful. But no matter how focused he seemed, you knew you were still on his mind.

It was in the way his hand would tighten on your thigh whenever you shifted, in the way his lips would twitch into a smirk whenever he felt you clench around him.

And when the game finally ended, his team celebrating their victory, Wonwoo leaned back in his chair, his hands settling on your waist as he looked at you with a satisfied grin.

"See? Told you I could multitask," he teased, his voice low and smug.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't help the smile that tugged at your lips. "You're insufferable."

He chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But you love it."

And as his hands began to roam again, you realized that the night was far from over.

Earlier, during Mario Kart

What you didn’t know, of course, was that Wonwoo had let you win. He’d spent most of the race holding back, deliberately missing items and slowing down just enough to let you get ahead. Watching you gloat about your supposed victory had been worth every second.

“Did you really think you’d win that easily?” he’d asked, his smirk betraying the truth.

But he didn’t mind letting you have the spotlight. For now, at least.

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed :]] feel free to send some reqs ilyall

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shy9-29 · 3 months ago

Text

When The Calls Stopped [p.hs]

“Even through the distance, I knew we’d find our way back to each other.”

SOMAR𝒊O ─── Sunghoon promised nothing would change when he left to chase his dream, and at first, he kept that promise—answering every call with warmth, filling the distance with laughter and late-night whispers. But slowly, the calls grew shorter, his replies delayed, and some nights, he didn’t answer at all. Still, you called, same time, same hope, until one day… you didn’t. At first, he barely noticed, too caught up in his hectic world, but as the silence stretched on, unease settled in. Why weren’t you calling? Why weren’t you texting? And why did the quiet feel heavier than he ever expected? 박성훈 𝐱 𝑓. reader ✉️ wc. 19.9k ✶ careful ! skinship, kissing, nicknames, long distance relationships, etc 🔖

requests open | masterlist

The moment Sunghoon tells you he got accepted, his eyes shine with excitement, his breath unsteady as if he can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth. “I did it,” he says, his hands gripping yours tightly. “I got in.”

For a second, time stops. You’ve always known this day would come—he’s worked too hard, sacrificed too much for it not to. But now that it’s real, your heart clenches in a way you weren’t prepared for. “Sunghoon, that’s amazing,” you say, forcing your lips into a smile, even though there’s a lump forming in your throat. “I knew you would.”

His grin is wide and bright, but it falters as he studies your face. “You’re happy for me, right?”

You nod quickly. “Of course I am.” And you are. You really, truly are. But you’re also terrified.

He sighs, squeezing your hands like he’s reassuring himself as much as you. “I’ll be busy, but I swear nothing will change between us. I’ll call every day. No matter what.”

You hold onto that promise like a lifeline. “And I’ll call too,” you say, trying to sound certain. “We’ll make this work.”

A small smile tugs at your lips as you poke his chest lightly. “And I’ll be your number one fan. No matter what happens, I’ll always be cheering you on.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “You already are.”

The day he leaves, the airport is filled with noise—people moving, voices overlapping, announcements droning over the speakers—but all you can hear is your own heartbeat. It’s too fast, too loud, too unsteady. Sunghoon stands in front of you, his bags slung over his shoulder, his expression unreadable.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he says softly, as if reading your mind. “It’s just… see you later.”

You manage a small, shaky laugh. “Yeah. See you later.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in, and you cling to him, trying to memorize the way he feels. The warmth of him, the familiar scent of his cologne. “I’ll miss you so much,” he murmurs into your hair, his hold tightening.

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Me too.”

Neither of you moves for a moment. You want to stay like this just a little longer, just until the ache in your chest fades—but the world doesn’t stop for you. His name is called. He steps back.

One last look. One last smile.

And then he’s gone.

You take a deep breath, gripping your phone in your hand. Every day, you remind yourself. No matter what.

The first night without Sunghoon feels strange. Your room is quieter, emptier. You lie in bed, your phone resting on your chest, staring at the ceiling as you wait for his call. He promised he’d call every day. You know he will, but the seconds drag on too slowly.

Then, finally, your phone rings.

You answer instantly. “Sunghoon!”

“Y/N!” His voice is slightly breathless, like he rushed to pick up. “I’m here. I made it.”

A relieved smile tugs at your lips. “How is it? How’s your dorm? Your members? Did you eat? Oh! What about your schedule? Are they making you run laps already?”

He chuckles, the familiar sound sending warmth through your chest. “Whoa, slow down! One question at a time.”

You listen as he talks about his first day—how he barely had time to settle in before being thrown into meetings, how his members are all nice but just as nervous as he is, how their dorm is smaller than he expected but still comfortable. He tells you about the rules: no phones during training, strict curfews, early mornings.

“It’s… a lot,” he admits after a pause. “I knew it would be hard, but it’s only the first day, and I’m already exhausted.”

You hear the tension in his voice—the weight of his dream settling on his shoulders. You wish you could be there, to see him, to tell him in person that he’s got this. Instead, you hold your phone a little tighter and say, “That just means you’re working hard. And you always work hard, Sunghoon. You’ll get used to it. Soon, it won’t feel as overwhelming.”

He exhales, and you can almost picture him closing his eyes, letting your words sink in. “Yeah… you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” you tease. “I am your number one fan, after all.”

His laugh is softer this time, more at ease. “You really are.”

Then, he suddenly groans. “Y/N, I swear, all the guys here are so good-looking. It’s kind of unfair.”

You blink before laughing. “And? Don’t forget you are too.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know… Compared to them, I—”

“Sunghoon,” you cut him off, your tone firm but affectionate. “You’re literally one of the most handsome guys I know. And I know a lot of people.”

He huffs out a shy laugh. “That’s not even true.”

“It is true,” you insist. “And don’t let anyone, not even your ridiculously good-looking members, make you forget that.”

There’s a short pause before he murmurs, “You always know what to say.”

“I just tell the truth.”

Sunghoon suddenly groans again, but this time, his voice is more playful. “But seriously, Y/N… Heeseung hyung? He’s so good-looking. It’s actually insane.”

You hum in thought. “Huh. He kinda is.”

Silence.

“…Excuse me?”

You bite back a grin, waiting for his reaction.

“You’re not supposed to agree with me!” he exclaims, sounding completely betrayed.

“I’m just saying,” you tease. “You’re right, he’s pretty handsome.”

You hear rustling on the other end, followed by a dramatic sigh. “I can’t believe this,” he mutters. “I’m telling Heeseung to stay away from you.”

That’s when you finally burst into laughter, and after a second, Sunghoon joins in too, the sound soft and warm.

Even with exhaustion creeping in, neither of you want to hang up just yet. You talk for as long as you can, lingering in the comfort of each other’s voices.

And when Sunghoon finally murmurs a sleepy “goodnight,” you hold onto his promise a little tighter.

It’s different now. The distance is real.

But at least, for now, nothing has changed.

The second night without Sunghoon feels a little easier. Maybe it’s because you know he’ll call, or maybe it’s because the sound of his voice last night still lingers in your mind.

When your phone rings, you pick up immediately. “Sunghoon!”

“You were waiting for me, weren’t you?” he teases, his voice laced with amusement.

You roll your eyes. “Obviously. My favorite trainee calls once a day—I have to clear my schedule.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

His tone is light, but there’s an underlying exhaustion in his voice. It’s only been a day, but you can already tell the training is wearing him out.

“So, how was today?” you ask, settling into your bed.

He exhales, and you hear him shifting, probably lying down as well. “Intense. We had dance practice all day. My body hurts everywhere.”

You wince in sympathy. “Did you at least eat?”

“Yeah, but I barely had time. Everything’s so fast-paced here. The second you finish one thing, there’s already something else waiting.”

“Sounds stressful,” you murmur.

“It is,” he admits. “But… it’s exciting, too. I mean—” He suddenly stops himself.

You frown. “What? What were you gonna say?”

A long pause. Then, a nervous chuckle. “I, uh… I can’t tell you.”

Your eyes narrow. “Why not?”

“Because it’s a secret.” His voice is smug now, like he enjoys keeping you on edge.

“Sunghoon.”

He laughs. “Okay, fine. I can tell you this much—I’m preparing for my debut.”

Your breath catches. “Already?”

“Well, not officially,” he corrects himself quickly. “But training’s getting more intense because they’re getting us ready. It’s still early, though, so nothing’s confirmed.”

“That’s amazing,” you say, your chest swelling with pride. “You’re already so close, Sunghoon.”

“Yeah…” His voice is softer now, almost like he’s processing it himself. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

You smile. “It is real. And soon, the whole world is gonna know Park Sunghoon’s name.”

He groans, embarrassed. “You always make it sound so dramatic.”

“Because it is dramatic! You’re literally gonna be a K-pop idol! I can say I knew you before you were famous.”

“That’s the only reason you’re keeping me around, huh?” he teases.

“Obviously,” you joke. “Gotta secure that ‘childhood friend of a celebrity’ title.”

He laughs, but then he sighs. “I just wish I could tell you more. It sucks that there are so many rules.”

You nod in understanding, even though he can’t see you. “I get it. But it’s okay—you don’t have to tell me everything. I’ll be here cheering for you, even if I don’t know what I’m cheering for yet.”

There’s a brief silence before he quietly says, “That means a lot.”

You smile. “It’s because I’m your number one fan, remember?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “You are.”

The conversation shifts after that. He tells you about his members again—how Jungwon is way too mature for his age, how Niki keeps making everyone laugh, how Jay seems intimidating but is actually super nice. You listen, taking in every word, because even though you’re not physically there with him, you want to be part of his world in whatever way you can.

Eventually, his voice grows sleepier, and you know he’s fighting to stay on the phone.

“You should sleep,” you say softly.

“Mhm.” He sounds half-asleep already. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you whisper.

The line goes silent, and for a moment, you just hold your phone to your ear, as if the connection alone can bridge the distance between you.

The next evening, when your phone rings, you can already tell by the tone in Sunghoon’s voice that he’s had a long day. You answer quickly, trying to mask the worry creeping up on you.

“Hey, how was today?” you ask, trying to sound upbeat, though you can hear the fatigue in his voice.

“I’m starving, Y/N,” he says, his words coming out in a rush. “They’re putting us on a diet to get us ready for the debut. I can barely eat anything.”

You frown, the concern rising in your chest. “What? Are you okay? How can they expect you to work so hard and not let you eat?”

“I don’t know,” he mutters, a tinge of frustration in his voice. “They said it’s part of the training. I’m just trying to push through, but… I’m so hungry, Y/N. I just want to eat something that’s not just protein and vegetables.”

“Sunghoon,” you say, your tone gentle but firm. “You need to eat. I know they’re pushing you hard, but you can’t run on empty. Don’t starve yourself.”

You hear him sigh, the weight of everything pressing on him. “I’m fine. I can handle it, Y/N. It’s just… so much right now. I don’t know how to keep up with it all.”

“I get it. I know it’s tough,” you reply softly, “but your body needs fuel. If you starve yourself, I’m going to be really mad at you.”

“Really?” he asks, sounding amused but still stressed.

“Yes, really,” you say with a playful but serious tone. “If you starve yourself, I will too. I’ll just sit here eating my feelings, okay?”

He laughs, but it’s light, lacking its usual energy. “I can’t let you do that. But I guess I’ll try to eat more. I’ll sneak a snack or something when no one’s looking.”

“Good. Just promise me you won’t push yourself too hard. I can’t be the only one who’s worried about you.”

“I promise. I won’t starve myself. But the training, Y/N… it’s just nonstop. I’m exhausted, and I don’t know if I can keep up with all of it.”

You pause, your heart aching for him. “You can. You’ve been working toward this your whole life, Sunghoon. You’re stronger than you think.”

“I don’t know. It feels like I’m always falling behind. There’s so much pressure.”

“I know, and I can’t imagine what it’s like right now, but I believe in you. I always have.”

There’s a soft silence on the other end, and you can almost hear him letting your words sink in.

“I… I really needed to hear that,” he says quietly. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply with a small smile. “I’m your number one fan. That’s what I’m here for.”

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, you really are.”

You continue talking for a little longer, but by the time the conversation starts to wind down, you can tell he’s beyond exhausted. His words become slower, more drawn out, as he struggles to stay awake.

“You need to sleep,” you remind him, your voice soft.

“Yeah… I know.”

“Goodnight, Sunghoon. Take care of yourself, okay?”

“I will,” he mumbles, and for a moment, you can hear the faintest hint of a smile in his voice. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Of course,” you whisper. “Sweet dreams.”

The call ends, and you find yourself lying there, your phone pressed to your chest, your heart heavy with all the things he didn’t say.

The next evening, you’re getting ready for bed when your phone rings. Sunghoon’s name flashes on the screen, and you pick it up almost instantly, eager to hear his voice.

“Y/N!” His voice sounds much lighter today, more energized, though you can still detect the edge of exhaustion beneath his words. “Hey, how’s your day been?”

You smile at the sound of his familiar tone. “It’s been good. How about you? You surviving the diet and the training?”

Sunghoon laughs, but it’s a little strained. “It’s been… tough, but I’m making it. You know, Jay’s been teasing me a lot about the diet. He keeps calling me the ‘hungry trainee.’”

You can hear the smile in his voice as he talks about his members. “I bet he’s being dramatic about it, huh?”

“Yeah, totally,” he says, and there’s a bit of laughter in his voice. “But he’s actually kind of right. I am starving half the time.”

“Well, you better eat something tonight. Don’t make me come over there and force-feed you!” You joke, but you’re half-serious.

Sunghoon chuckles, but before he can respond, you hear a voice in the background.

“Wait a minute,” the voice says. “So this is the famous Y/N? The one Sunghoon’s always talking about?”

You blink, surprised, but Sunghoon quickly calls out. “Jay! Don’t interrupt, man!”

Jay’s voice sounds teasing, and you can almost picture the grin on his face. “Oh, I see now. You’re real. I thought you were just some fake girlfriend Sunghoon made up to seem cool.”

You laugh, not at all offended. “Well, I’m glad I’m real. I guess Sunghoon’s not just making up stories to impress you guys, huh?”

Sunghoon groans from the other end, clearly embarrassed. “Jay, I swear, if you keep this up—”

But Jay cuts him off, clearly having too much fun with this. “Nah, I’m just kidding. But seriously, Sunghoon never stops talking about you, so I was starting to wonder if you were just some figment of his imagination.”

You can hear Sunghoon muttering something about how Jay is the weird one, and you laugh, feeling the warmth of the moment. It’s nice to hear Sunghoon in such a comfortable environment, surrounded by people who care about him.

“I promise you, I’m not a figment,” you reply playfully. “But tell Sunghoon that if he doesn’t start eating properly, I’ll come and find him myself.”

Jay bursts out laughing. “I think he needs to hear that! Hey, Sunghoon, don’t make her come over here. She’ll beat you into eating.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sunghoon mutters, clearly fighting to hide his smile. “I get it, I’ll eat.”

“Good,” you say, your tone more serious now. “Take care of yourself, Sunghoon. I don’t want you pushing yourself too hard.”

There’s a brief pause, and then he sighs, a little softer this time. “I will. Thanks, Y/N.”

“I mean it,” you reply quietly. “I’m always here. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he says, his voice full of sincerity. “You’re the best, Y/N.”

You smile, your heart swelling with affection. “I love you, Sunghoon,” you say, your words filled with so much sincerity that you can feel them resonate in your chest.

For a moment, there’s a soft silence on the line, and you wonder if he’s heard you correctly. But then he answers, his voice just as gentle, “I love you too, Y/N.”

Jay, not missing a beat, interrupts again. “Aww, look at that. Sunghoon’s all soft now. It’s cute.”

“Shut up, Jay,” Sunghoon mutters, but you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Alright, alright,” you say with a grin, “I’ll let you guys go. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

Sunghoon laughs. “We’ll try not to. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“You bet,” you reply. “Sleep well, Sunghoon. Both of you.”

The call ends, and you can’t help but smile to yourself. You’re glad Sunghoon’s surrounded by people who make him laugh, who help take the edge off the stress. But you also know that no matter what, you’ll always be there for him—cheering him on through every part of his journey.

The following evening, as the call connects, you immediately notice something’s different. Sunghoon’s voice sounds tired, more worn out than usual. The usual warmth isn’t as present, and he answers after a few rings, his greeting slower than before.

“Hey, babe…” he says, a slight sigh in his tone.

“Hey, Sunghoon. How’s everything? You sound a little off.” You try to keep the concern out of your voice, but it’s hard not to notice.

“I’m fine,” he responds quickly, but it’s clear he’s not. “Just… a long day, you know? Practice and all that. It’s been non-stop. I’m pretty drained.”

You can tell he’s trying to push through it, but it’s obvious that the exhaustion is catching up to him. His usual spark is dimmed, and you wish you could do more for him.

“Sunghoon, you need to take care of yourself,” you say gently. “I don’t want you running yourself into the ground.”

He laughs softly, but it’s weak. “I’ll be okay. Just… a bit of a rough day, that’s all.”

You can hear him shift in his seat, probably leaning back and trying to get comfortable, but it only worries you more.

“Are you eating enough? Please tell me you’re not starving yourself again,” you ask, your voice a little firmer now.

“I had a little to eat,” he replies, though you can hear the hesitation. “I’m just really stressed about everything… I’m supposed to be prepared for this comeback, but there’s so much to remember, and the pressure is intense.”

You frown, feeling the weight of his words. “I know it’s tough, but you can’t let the stress take over. You’ve got this, Sunghoon. You’re amazing, and everyone is rooting for you.”

“I just feel like I’m barely keeping up,” he admits. “I’m trying, but it’s hard.”

A silence falls between you two, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. But then, you hear his voice again, softer this time.

“Y/N…” His voice catches slightly, like he’s mustering the strength to say something important. “You still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” you say quickly, trying to ease the tension. “I’m always here.”

“You know I love you, right?” He says, though his voice is quieter than usual, almost as if he’s saying it for comfort more than anything.

The words make your heart ache, hearing him say them so softly, knowing how much he’s carrying right now. “I love you too, Sunghoon,” you reply, making sure your words are full of sincerity and warmth. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m always here for you, okay?”

He pauses for a second, as if processing your words, then adds with a sigh, “Promise you’ll keep saying that to me? I need to hear it right now.”

“I promise,” you say firmly, your voice steady and full of affection. “I’ll always tell you. I love you, Sunghoon, and you’re doing amazing. I know it’s hard right now, but you’re getting through it.”

You can hear him exhale, like he’s finally able to relax a little. “Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot.”

You smile softly, even though you know he can’t see it. “Anytime, Sunghoon. I’m always here. Get some rest, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.”

“I will,” he replies quietly, but there’s still a trace of exhaustion in his voice. “Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Definitely,” you say. “Sleep well, Sunghoon. You deserve it.”

“I will. Goodnight, Y/N. Love you.”

“Love you too,” you whisper, the words feeling like a promise to both of you.

The next day passes, and when your phone rings, you’re excited as usual to hear from Sunghoon. But when you answer, there’s something different in his voice right away.

“Hey, babe! What’s up?” he greets, a little too cheerfully.

“Hey! You sound excited,” you say with a grin, already sensing there’s something new going on. “What’s going on? Did you finally get a good meal or something?”

He laughs, but it’s clear there’s a little more to it. “Well, actually… I got a new haircut today.”

Your heart skips a beat. You’ve seen Sunghoon change up his look from time to time, but hearing that he’s got a new hairstyle has your curiosity piqued.

“Really?” you say, feigning surprise. “I bet it looks amazing. You were already handsome enough, but now you’re just showing off, huh?”

He chuckles, but you can tell he’s excited to hear your reaction. “I’ll send you a picture. Hold on.

You hear the sound of him shifting around, and a few seconds later, a picture message pops up on your phone. You eagerly open it, only to see a shot of Sunghoon with a fresh, slightly messy hairstyle—his hair styled with a bit of volume and some subtle layers, giving him an effortlessly cool vibe.

Your eyes widen, and you immediately burst into laughter.

“Oh my god, Sunghoon! What did you do to your hair?” you tease, your voice full of playfulness. “You have like—the stereotypical idol hair cut. Are you even real?”

He laughs, clearly amused by your reaction. “What? You don’t like it?”

You’re still laughing, unable to stop yourself. “It’s not that I don’t like it. I mean… wow, you look good, but you’re definitely going to make all the fans swoon even harder now. You’re making it unfair for the rest of them.”

“I don’t know if I’d say that,” he replies, sounding a bit shy now, though the amusement in his voice is still there. “I just wanted to try something different. You think it suits me?”

You pause for a second, pretending to think about it seriously, then grin. “Hmm, well… it’s not bad. I mean, it’s not like you were ever ugly, but now… I’m going to have to fight off all the fan girls who’ll be falling even harder for you.”

“Stop it,” he says with a playful groan. “You’re going to make me embarrassed.”

“I’m just saying the truth!” You laugh, shaking your head even though he can’t see you. “You really are trying to make everyone else jealous now, huh?”

Sunghoon lets out a soft chuckle. “Well, as long as you’re not jealous, I think I’m doing alright.”

You can’t help but grin, your heart feeling lighter at the playful moment. “Don’t worry, Sunghoon. I’m your #1 fan, and I’ll always be here for you, no matter what hairstyle you go for. Just… no more drastic changes, okay? I might not recognize you next time.”

“Deal,” he says, and you can hear the relief in his voice. “I’ll keep it simple next time, I promise.”

You smile, feeling your heart swell with affection. “You look great, Sunghoon. I’m happy you’re trying new things. Just… don’t forget I like you just the way you are, no matter what your hair looks like.”

“I won’t forget,” he says softly. “I promise.”

“I love you,” you say, a soft, genuine smile on your face.

“I love you too,” he replies, his voice quieter now, and there’s a warmth in it that makes your heart flutter.

The next day, you’re both on FaceTime, and you can’t help but smile when you see Sunghoon’s face light up as soon as he picks up. His hair looks great as always, and he’s looking slightly more relaxed, though still busy with everything going on.

“Y/N!” he greets, his usual smile spreading across his face. “How are you? I miss you so fucking much I think I’m going crazy”

“It’s been alright. I miss you too hoon,” you reply with a grin, but then you hesitate, glancing at yourself in the reflection. You’re not exactly feeling confident, especially after a long day, and you barely managed to throw on something comfortable. You decide to only show half of your face on camera, hiding the side you’re not happy with.

“Hey, why are you only showing half your face?” Sunghoon asks, his voice filled with playful curiosity. “Come on, let me see all of you.”

You shake your head, feeling self-conscious. “No way. I look terrible today. I’m just not in the mood to show all of me.”

Sunghoon pouts dramatically. “I don’t believe that for a second. Let me see all of you, please? You know you’re beautiful.”

You laugh, even though his words make your heart flutter. “I’m serious, Sunghoon. You don’t want to see it. Trust me.”

He gives a soft chuckle, clearly not buying it. “Y/N, you’ve got to stop hiding. Just show me, and I promise you’ll feel better. I know you look great.”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling the pressure of his persistent words, but you still resist for a moment. After a few seconds of silence, you finally roll your eyes and, with a reluctant sigh, shift the camera to show your full face.

“See? Told you,” you mutter, bracing for the inevitable teasing.

But then Sunghoon’s eyes widen, and you hear his voice soften. “Wow, absolutely stunning” His tone is sincere, and you can tell he genuinely means it.

You blink, unsure if you heard him right. “What?”

“I said you’re cute.” He grins, and there’s a playful gleam in his eyes as he leans closer to the camera. “Really cute, actually. Like, ridiculously cute. Can’t believe you’re my girlfriend.”

Your cheeks flush at his words, and despite yourself, you smile. “Stop it, Sunghoon. You’re just saying that.”

“No, I’m not,” he says, his voice lowering slightly, his eyes now locked on yours. “I’m serious. You’ve got no idea how gorgeous you are.”

You try to fight the blush rising to your cheeks, but it’s hard when his gaze is so intense. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“I’m not the one hiding my face,” he teases, but then his expression softens. “I just want to see all of you. You don’t have to hide, ever.”

You look down, feeling a little shy. “You’re way too sweet.”

Sunghoon gives a soft laugh, but then his voice drops into something more playful, more flirty. “I’m just telling the truth. But if you’re this cute even when you’re hiding… I can’t even imagine how amazing you look all put together.”

You roll your eyes but can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “You’re really laying it on thick today, huh?”

“I’m just stating facts.” His grin grows wider. “And I’m telling you, if you keep looking this cute, I’m going to be even more smitten with you.”

Your heart flutters, and you’re suddenly at a loss for words. You never quite get used to the way he can make you feel so special with just a few words.

“Alright, alright,” you say, trying to brush off the sudden rush of warmth in your chest. “I guess I’ll take the compliment, but only because you’re my favorite.”

Sunghoon winks at you through the screen, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Good, because you’re mine too. But I think you knew that already.”

You smile, a little shy but full of affection for him. “I guess I did.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you two for a moment, both of you just enjoying the moment. The teasing fades, and for a while, it’s just the two of you, connected despite the distance.

“I really do think you’re cute, Y/N,” he says softly after a beat, and you feel the sincerity in his words even through the screen.

You smile, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. “Thanks, Sunghoon. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He grins. “I know. I’m a keeper, right?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You might just be.”

When Sunghoon picks up, you can immediately tell something is off. His face is shadowed, his usual smile absent. His eyes look heavy, and there’s an exhaustion in his voice that he tries to hide, but it’s clear he’s been pushing himself too hard.

“Hi, Y/N,” he greets, his voice low and slow, as if every word is a struggle.

“Hey, Sunghoon,” you reply, concern creeping into your tone. “You don’t sound like yourself. You okay?”

He sighs heavily, rubbing his eyes. “I’m just really tired… It’s been a long day. We’ve been rehearsing non-stop, and it’s been hard to keep up. I haven’t really had much sleep the past couple of days.”

You can’t help but frown. You’ve seen him work hard before, but this is different. He’s always been energetic, full of life when talking to you. But now, he sounds like he’s barely keeping his eyes open.

“Hoonie,” you say softly, “you need to rest. Don’t push yourself too much. You know I want you to take care of yourself, right?”

“I know,” he mumbles, but the words don’t seem to have the usual fire behind them. “I’ll be fine… just need to get through this.”

A long pause settles between you two, and you try to gauge what’s going on in his mind. You can hear the faint background noise of the dorm—footsteps, someone laughing in the distance—but it only adds to the sense that he’s not fully present with you.

“Are you eating enough?” you ask, your voice firm with concern. “If you’re not eating, I swear I’ll—”

“I’m eating, Y/N,” he interrupts, but it’s sharp, the kind of snap that catches you off guard. “Stop worrying about me so much.”

You freeze, startled by the sudden change in his tone. It’s not like him to snap at you. You can tell he’s frustrated, but you can’t help but feel hurt by how quickly his patience seems to have worn thin.

You try to keep your voice calm. “I’m just worried about you, Sunghoon. I know you’re stressed, but—”

“Yeah, I know,” he cuts you off again, his tone more defensive. “I’m just… tired. Can you give me a minute, please?”

The request stings, and you try to hide the disappointment creeping in. He hasn’t snapped at you like this before, and though you know it’s just stress, you can’t help but feel a pang of hurt in your chest.

“I… I just want you to be okay,” you whisper, fighting the tightness in your throat. “I love you so, so much.”

There’s a pause on his end. You can hear him breathing heavily, and then he exhales deeply. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, his voice softer now, regret evident in his words. “I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just really drained right now. It’s not you.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “It’s okay. I know you’re stressed, but you’ve got to remember you can’t do everything on your own. Don’t forget to take a step back sometimes.”

“I know… I just feel like everything’s piling up, and I don’t want to let anyone down,” he admits, his voice a little shakier now. “I’m sorry for snapping. I really didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

“It’s alright, Sunghoon,” you say softly, your heart aching for him. “I know you’re doing your best. Just… please don’t wear yourself out completely. I care about you.”

“I’ll try,” he responds, though the exhaustion in his voice still lingers. “I’ll rest soon… I just need to finish up some stuff first.”

“Promise me you’ll rest after?” you ask, your voice gentle.

He sighs again, but it’s a little more peaceful this time. “Promise.”

There’s a moment of quiet before you speak again. “I love you, Sunghoon. Don’t forget that, okay?”

“I love you too,” he says, his words more sincere now, even though you can tell he’s still a little worn out. “I’m sorry again for snapping. I didn’t mean it.”

You smile softly, knowing how hard he’s been working. “Don’t apologize. Just get some rest, alright? You’ve got this.”

He nods, though you know he’s probably too tired to keep his eyes open much longer. “Talk to you tomorrow, okay?”

“Definitely,” you reply, your voice warm. “Sleep well, Sunghoon.”

“Goodnight, Y/N. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Sunghoon answers the call, something feels different. His usual warmth, the energy he once had when he saw your name light up on his screen, seems dimmed. He’s quieter, his responses slower, like he’s barely present in the conversation.

“Hey, Sunghoon,” you greet, trying to keep the cheerfulness in your voice, but there’s a subtle tightness in your chest as you notice the shift.

“Hey,” he replies, his voice flat. It’s not the usual excitement or affection that you’re used to hearing. “What’s up?”

“How’s everything today? How’s the comeback prep going?” You ask, trying to break through the silence, your concern creeping in with every word.

“It’s fine,” he answers, but there’s a detachment in his tone. “Same as usual. Busy. A lot to do.”

You pause, the words hanging in the air, and you feel the distance between you grow, even though you’re both on the phone. “Sunghoon, you okay? You sound kind of… off.”

There’s a long pause on his end, like he’s debating whether to answer honestly. When he finally speaks, his voice is tired, but he doesn’t say much.

“Yeah… just a little tired,” he mutters, almost dismissively.

You can sense that he’s shutting you out, and it hurts. “I know you’re busy, but you can talk to me, you know. If you need a break or anything.”

“I’m fine, really,” he responds, a little too quickly. “I’m just dealing with some things… but I’ll be alright.”

You can feel the gap between you widening with every passing second. Normally, Sunghoon would reach for your hand, even through the phone, but now it feels like he’s pulling away. You take a deep breath, trying to stay calm.

“I’m here if you want to talk, Sunghoon. You don’t have to keep everything inside,” you say softly.

“Thanks,” he mutters, his tone still distant, not offering much more. “I’ll talk to you later.”

The words strike you hard, like a cold wave. You want to reach out, ask him if something’s wrong, but he’s already pulling away from you. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to push back the hurt that starts to bubble up.

Before the call ends, you quickly add, “I love you, Sunghoon.”

There’s a long pause. You hold your breath, waiting for him to say it back, but instead, there’s only silence.

“Sunghoon?” you say, a little softer this time, hoping for the reassurance you always get, but he doesn’t respond.

“I love you,” you repeat, quieter now, your heart sinking. Still, nothing.

“Talk to you later, Y/N,” he says quickly, cutting through the silence, his voice tinged with impatience, and the call ends before you can say anything else.

You stare at the screen, the absence of his usual “I love you” echoing in your mind. Your chest feels heavy, and for the first time, you wonder if the distance is becoming more than just physical.

You try calling him again later that evening, hoping for a better conversation. When he picks up, his voice is more rushed than usual, and there’s a faint background noise of chatter and shuffling.

“Hey, I can’t really talk right now,” Sunghoon says quickly, his tone tight and distracted. “I’m in the middle of something.”

You blink, surprised. “Oh, okay… I didn’t realize you were busy. Everything okay?”

He sighs, and you can hear the tension in his voice. “Yeah, just practice and other stuff. It’s a lot to juggle right now. I really can’t take a long call.”

You try to hide the disappointment, but it’s hard. “I get it, Sunghoon. I just wanted to hear your voice.”

“I know, but… I just don’t have the time right now,” he says a little apologetically, but there’s still a sense of distance in his words. “I’ll talk to you when I can. Sorry, Y/N.”

There’s a brief pause before you speak again, trying not to let the hurt show. “Alright, take care of yourself, okay? Don’t push too hard.”

“I will,” he says, though his tone is distracted. “Talk to you later.”

You hesitate for a moment, but before the call can end, you quickly add, “I love you, Sunghoon.”

There’s a silence on the other end, just long enough for you to second-guess yourself. He doesn’t respond right away, and it makes your heart ache. Then, his voice comes through, quieter than before.

“Yeah… I’ll talk to you later,” he says, but his words feel rushed, and the usual warmth isn’t there.

You sit there, staring at the screen, the weight of the silence lingering in the air. The distance between you feels bigger now, and you wonder if the connection you once had is fading away.

The following day, you call Sunghoon, needing someone to talk to. A lot’s been weighing on your mind, and you just want to vent to him. It’s been a rough day for you—your boss had been incredibly difficult, and a few personal things have left you feeling down. You just want to hear his comforting voice.

When he picks up, you immediately start talking, eager to unload. “Sunghoon, you won’t believe what happened today. My boss was so unfair with me, and it just… it feels like everything’s going wrong. I tried to stay calm, but nothing I did was good enough.”

There’s a brief pause on the other end, and when he responds, his voice isn’t as warm as usual. “Oh… yeah?” His tone is flat, as though he’s distracted, and it catches you off guard. You push on, not noticing the change at first.

“Yeah, and then my friend was being distant too, which just made everything worse. Like, I don’t know if I’m doing something wrong, but it’s been a lot. I just want to get it off my chest, you know?” You’re pouring your heart out, hoping he’ll be the support you need right now.

“I mean, that sucks,” Sunghoon responds, his voice a little distracted. “But it’s not like there’s much you can do about it, right? You’ll be fine.”

His words sting more than you expect. You try not to let it show, but the impatience in his voice is unmistakable. “Yeah, I guess. But it just feels like everything’s hitting at once, and I can’t catch a break.”

You expect some sort of comforting reply, something to ease the tension in your chest, but instead, he sighs. “Yeah, well… I don’t really have time to talk about this right now. We’ve got practice, and I really need to focus.”

You freeze, your words hanging in the air. For a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The distance in his voice is more evident now than ever. You take a deep breath, trying to hide the disappointment that threatens to show. “I… I understand, Sunghoon. I just wanted to talk to you. It’s okay.”

There’s a pause before he replies, his tone still somewhat distant. “I’ll talk to you later, okay? I really have to go.”

“Alright…” you say quietly, the words barely leaving your lips. You feel like you’ve been cut off mid-sentence, but you don’t know how to push further.

The call ends abruptly, and you sit there, the weight of his impatience lingering. The feeling that something’s not quite right between the two of you grows heavier with every passing second.

Later that evening, you try calling him again, hoping for a chance to talk more calmly now that he might have a break. But as the phone rings, you can feel the knot in your stomach tighten. He doesn’t pick up.

You wait for a few more rings, then the voicemail picks up.

“Hey, it’s Sunghoon. Sorry, I can’t take your call right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

His voice sounds distant, almost robotic—nothing like the Sunghoon you know. You stand there for a moment, staring at your phone, feeling your chest tighten. You had hoped things would feel a little more normal tonight, but now, the silence on the other end only deepens the gap between you.

You swallow the lump in your throat and try to shake off the feeling of abandonment, but it lingers.

“Hey, Sunghoon… It’s me. I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to talk. I… I miss you. I miss your voice, your presence—everything. Call me when you can, okay? I’ll be here.”

You end the message, and for a second, you just stare at your phone. The call didn’t go the way you hoped, and as you hang up, you can’t shake the feeling that something is slowly slipping away. You wonder if he’ll ever call back.

You wait for a few more rings, then the voicemail picks up.

“Hey, it’s Sunghoon. Sorry, I can’t take your call right now. Leave a message and I’ll get back to you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and try to shake off the feeling of abandonment, but it lingers.

“Hey, Sunghoon… It’s me. I know you’re busy, but I just wanted to talk. I… I miss you. Call me when you can, okay? I’ll be here.”

Later that week, another wave of bad news hits you. Your friend, who you’ve been trying to support through some personal struggles, completely shuts you out. It’s frustrating, confusing, and you’re feeling completely drained from trying to be there for everyone else while no one seems to be there for you. You reach for your phone, desperate to talk to Sunghoon, hoping he’ll be the support you need, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

When he picks up, you immediately start venting, your emotions spilling out faster than you can control them. “Sunghoon, I don’t know what to do. My friend… she’s been shutting me out, and I don’t know why. I tried to be there for her, but now it’s like I’m just invisible. Everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I don’t know how to fix it.”

There’s a pause, and then Sunghoon’s voice comes through, colder than you expected. “Again with the drama, Y/N? I’m really not in the mood for this.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What? I’m just telling you what happened. I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

“You’re always making it about yourself,” he snaps, his tone sharp. “Everything’s always about you. You’re the one who needs attention, who needs someone to fix everything for you. I’m sorry, but I can’t deal with that right now.”

His words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you don’t know how to react. You thought he’d be there for you, even if it was just to listen. But now, it feels like the weight of your emotions is too much for him, too much for anyone.

“You don’t even care, do you?” you say quietly, your voice shaking with hurt. “I’m just trying to talk to you, Sunghoon. I didn’t expect you to fix it, I just needed to tell someone.”

“I can’t always be there for you like that,” he says coldly. “I have my own things going on. Maybe you should start thinking about that instead of making everything about you.”

Your heart sinks, and before you can respond, you hear him exhale sharply.

“I gotta go,” Sunghoon says abruptly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Before you can even say another word, the line goes dead.

The phone still pressed against your ear, your heart racing in your chest. The words echo in your head, and the distance between you feels like an insurmountable gap. The person you thought you could rely on, the one who promised to be there, just hung up on you, leaving you alone with nothing but the weight of his harsh words.

The next day, your phone rings, and when you see Sunghoon’s name, your heart skips a beat. You hesitate before answering, still reeling from the harsh words he had said yesterday. But when you finally swipe to answer, his voice comes through, and it’s immediately clear something is wrong.

“Y/N…” His voice cracks, and you hear the unmistakable sound of tears. “I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have said those things. I was just so… overwhelmed. Everything’s falling apart, and I… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

Your heart tightens at the sound of his pain. You weren’t expecting this at all, but the sincerity in his voice makes the anger and hurt you felt yesterday fade. You stay quiet for a moment, letting him speak, and when he continues, you can hear the exhaustion in his words.

“I’ve been so stressed with practice, with everything going on, and I just… I lost it. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You can’t help but feel the weight of his apology. You know how much he’s been dealing with, how hard everything must be for him. Despite how hurt you were, you take a deep breath, your voice gentle as you reply.

“It’s okay, Sunghoon,” you say softly, trying to comfort him. “I understand. You’re under so much pressure, and it’s a lot to handle. But that doesn’t mean you can’t talk to me about it. I’m here for you, always.”

There’s a brief silence on the other end, and then you hear him sniffle. “I don’t want to push you away, but I’ve been pushing everyone away. I don’t even know how to deal with this anymore.”

You feel your heart break for him. “You don’t have to deal with it alone, Sunghoon. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. You can vent to me, and I’ll listen, okay? You don’t have to keep it all inside.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “I really messed up, Y/N.”

“No, you’re allowed to have your moments. You’re human, Sunghoon,” you reassure him, your words soft but full of care. “It’s okay to be stressed and overwhelmed. I get it. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll get through it together.”

He sighs heavily, as if the weight on his shoulders has lifted just a little. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’m really sorry for how I acted.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Just take care of yourself, okay? And if you need to talk, I’m always here.”

“Thank you,” he says, his voice more stable now, though you can still hear the lingering tension. “I’m really lucky to have you, Y/N.”

“I’m lucky to have you too,” you reply, your voice full of warmth and affection. “Just remember, we’re in this together. You don’t have to go through it alone.”

You can hear him take a shaky breath, and for the first time in what feels like forever, there’s a sense of peace between the two of you. Even through the stress and distance, you know this moment—this understanding—will bring you closer.

A few days pass, and you try to stay positive, especially after the heartfelt conversation you had with Sunghoon. You thought things were going to improve, that the distance between you two was finally closing. But when you call him again, you feel that familiar weight of uncertainty creeping back.

When he picks up, the usual warmth you’ve come to expect isn’t there. His voice is distant, almost emotionless. “Hi,”

“Hey, Sunghoon,” you reply, trying to keep your tone light. “How are you today?”

There’s a long pause before he answers, and when he does, his response is flat. “I’m fine.”

You furrow your brows, sensing something off. “You sure? You don’t sound like it. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he says quickly, but there’s no conviction in his voice. It feels like he’s just saying the words to get through the conversation. “Just busy, you know? Lots of stuff going on.”

You try to push through, wanting to hear more, wanting him to open up to you like he did before. “I get it. You’ve been working a lot. But you know you can talk to me, right?”

“I know,” he says, but there’s no real emotion behind it. “I’ll talk to you later. I don’t have much time now.”

You feel the sting of his detachment, and your chest tightens. “Sunghoon… I’ve been really worried about you. You’ve been distant lately, and I don’t know what’s going on. Is it me?”

There’s another pause, longer this time, and you hold your breath, hoping for something—anything—that’ll show you he still cares. But when he responds, his words come out cold and brief.

“No, it’s not you. I just don’t have time for this right now. I’m too tired.”

Your heart drops. His words cut through you, and the sudden shift from the Sunghoon you know to this distant version of him leaves you speechless. You swallow, trying to steady your breath, but it feels like your chest is caving in. “Okay… if you need space, I understand,” you say quietly, trying to hold it together.

“Yeah,” he says, his tone distant, like he’s already mentally checked out of the conversation. “I’ll talk to you later.”

Before you can say anything more, he hangs up.

You gaze at your screen, the words he didn’t say hanging in the air. He didn’t even say “I love you” this time. The silence feels louder than ever, and a sinking feeling fills your stomach.

You call Sunghoon, you’ve got something lighthearted to share, hoping it might bring some energy back into your conversations. You’ve just bought a new set of makeup, something you’ve been wanting to try for a while, and thought it’d be fun to try it on while on the phone with him. Maybe he could offer his opinions—or, at the very least, cheer you on.

When he picks up, his voice is quieter than usual, and you can immediately feel that familiar distance hanging in the air. “Hey,” he says, his tone flat, barely any emotion behind it.

“Hoonie!” You try to sound upbeat, forcing a smile even though you’re not feeling it. “ I bought some new makeup today! I was thinking of trying it on while we talk. Maybe you can tell me if it looks good?”

There’s a slight pause on the other end. You can hear him sigh softly before he replies. “Uh, okay…”

You go on, excited despite the unease in his voice. “I got this cute blush and a new lippie, and I thought I’d do a quick little look. You can rate it or whatever. It’ll be fun, right?”

You pull out the makeup, feeling a bit nervous but also wanting to share something fun with him, hoping it might make him a bit more engaged. As you start applying the blush, you glance at the screen to see if Sunghoon’s paying attention. But when you look up, he’s staring off to the side, looking distracted, his hand running through his hair absentmindedly.

“Sunghoon?” you say, trying to pull him back in. “What do you think so far? Do you think it looks cute?”

He doesn’t respond right away. Another pause. You can feel your heart sink just a little, but you could see a slight smile on his face.

“I… don’t know,” he mutters, sounding distant. “I can’t really tell from here. Maybe it looks fine.”

You try again, brushing a bit of eyeshadow on, hoping he’ll at least show a little excitement. “Come on, Sunghoon, you can at least say something. You know I love when you notice the little things.”

But instead of the encouraging words you were hoping for, you hear him sigh again, his voice a little frustrated. “I’m just… kind of tired, okay? I don’t really feel like giving opinions on makeup right now.”

Your smile falters, and you can feel the excitement you had draining away. “Oh, okay… I just thought it’d be fun to share with you.”

“I know,” he says, but his tone is distant, detached. “I’m just not in the mood for it. I have a lot going on.”

There’s a slight edge to his voice, and it stings more than you expected. You’re left holding the makeup brush in your hand, feeling like you’re talking to a wall.

“Alright, I get it,” you say softly, trying not to let the disappointment show. “I just wanted to do something fun… but I understand.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and the silence stretches between you both. It’s like the distance you’ve been feeling in his voice is now physically present, filling the space where your excitement used to be.

“Sorry,” he mutters finally, though it feels like an afterthought. “I’m just really tired. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You nod, even though he can’t see you, and whisper, “Yeah, okay. Take care of yourself, Sunghoon.”

Before he can say anything else, the call ends. You stare at the phone screen, makeup half-applied, the weight of his lack of interest heavy in the air. The silence that follows feels like a painful reminder of how far apart you’ve grown.

The next time you call Sunghoon, you try once again to bring back the warmth that’s been slipping away. You went shopping earlier and picked up a few new outfits—pieces you were excited about, ones you thought he might like. Maybe, just maybe, this could be a moment to reconnect, even if just for a little while.

When he picks up, his voice is the same as it’s been lately—tired, distant. “Hey.”

You push past the hesitation in your chest and smile at the camera. “Hey! Guess what? I went shopping today and got some cute clothes. Wanna see?”

There’s a slight pause before he responds. “Sure.” It’s not enthusiastic, but at least it’s not dismissive.

You grab the first outfit—a soft pink top and a white skirt—and step back so he can see. “What do you think? Cute, right?” You twirl a little, hoping for some kind of reaction from him.

Sunghoon watches through the screen, his gaze lingering for a moment before he nods. “Yeah… it looks nice. It suits you.”

You feel a flicker of warmth at his words, even though his tone is subdued. Encouraged, you switch into another look—baggy jeans and a black zip-up sweater. “And this? I thought it was a cute, casual look.”

Again, he takes a second before responding. His eyes scan over you, and for a brief moment, the old Sunghoon peeks through—his lips twitch, as if he wants to smile, and there’s a softness in his gaze that you haven’t seen in a while. “It’s cute. You always look good in stuff like that.”

You light up at his words, but just as quickly as that warmth appears, it fades. Sunghoon shifts slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, and the distance in his expression returns. “Sorry, I’m just kind of out of it today,” he mutters.

Your heart sinks a little, but you don’t let it show. “It’s okay,” you say gently. “I know you’re busy. I just wanted to share something fun with you.”

He nods, but he doesn’t say much after that. The conversation feels like it’s slipping through your fingers, no matter how much you try to hold onto it.

Still, at least for a moment, he looked at you the way he used to. And even if he’s distant, you can tell—deep down, he still thinks you’re pretty. He still thinks you’re cute. But is that enough to hold onto?

When you call him again, you’re craving even the smallest bit of warmth—some kind of reassurance that things between you aren’t slipping away completely. So, you try something different, something playful, hoping to pull a smile from him the way you used to.

“I miss you,” you say softly, shifting against your pillow. “I wish I could kiss you right now.”

There’s a pause on his end, and for a second, you think maybe you’ve caught him off guard in a good way. But when he finally speaks, his voice is flat. “Yeah.”

Hoping to lighten the mood, you call him again, determined to make him smile—really smile, like he used to. When he picks up, his face looks just as exhausted as before, his expression blank. But at least he answered. That’s something, right?

“You look tired,” you say softly, trying not to sound too worried. “Rough day?”

“Mhm,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Practice was brutal.”

You nod, thinking for a moment before reaching for the bag of chips sitting beside you. “Alright, since you’re too tired to talk, I’ll entertain you instead.”

He raises a brow, barely interested. “What?”

You grin, bringing a chip close to your phone’s mic. “ASMR,” you announce dramatically before biting into it with an exaggerated crunch.

Sunghoon blinks, clearly caught off guard. Then, to your relief, the corners of his lips twitch just the slightest bit.

“You’re so weird,” he mumbles, but there’s a tiny glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Encouraged, you take another loud bite, chewing obnoxiously slow. “This one’s for you, Park Sunghoon. May it bring you strength in these trying times.”

This time, a small, fleeting smile appears on his face. It’s not much, but it’s something.

“Also ridiculous,” he mutters, shaking his head slightly. But the exhaustion in his voice remains, and just as quickly as that tiny smile appeared, it’s gone.

You keep munching, hoping to keep the moment alive, but Sunghoon just leans back against what looks like his dorm bed, staring at the ceiling.

And in that silence, you realize something.

You can still make him smile. But it doesn’t reach him the way it used to.

Determined to lift his mood, you keep going, crunching dramatically into another chip. “This one,” you say between bites, “is the ultimate, most perfect crunch. Listen closely.”

You take the slowest, loudest bite yet, exaggerating every sound.

Sunghoon huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You’re such a dork.”

You gasp. “Excuse me? This is high-quality ASMR content. People pay for this, you know.”

He lets out a soft chuckle—small, but real. “Yeah, yeah. You’re still ridiculous.”

You smile, relieved to finally hear something other than exhaustion in his voice. “But you love it.”

He pauses for a moment, then mutters, “Yeah… You’re cute.”

Your heart skips. It’s been a while since he’s said something like that, and even though his voice is still quiet, still tired, the warmth in his words makes your chest ache.

“Damn right I am,” you tease, trying to keep the moment light. “The cutest, actually.”

Sunghoon hums in agreement, but just as quickly as the warmth appeared, it fades again. He shifts, rubbing his face tiredly. “I should probably go soon.”

Your smile falters, but you nod. “Yeah… okay.”

He looks at you for a moment, as if he wants to say something else. But in the end, he just sighs.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And just like that, the call ends.

He called you cute. He smiled. But something still feels off. Like no matter what you do, he’s slipping further and further away.

You don’t want to overthink it. You tell yourself he’s just tired, just busy, and that things will feel normal again soon. So when you call him the next day, you try to act like nothing’s wrong.

When he picks up, he looks even more exhausted than before. His hair is damp, probably from a shower, and he’s lying in bed, his face barely illuminated by the dim glow of his phone screen.

“Hey,” you greet, keeping your voice soft. “Long day?”

“Yeah,” he mutters.

You hesitate before trying to lighten the mood. “Well, lucky for you, I’m here to entertain you. No ASMR today, but I can sing you a bedtime story.”

A ghost of a smile flickers across his face, but it doesn’t last. “That’s okay,” he says, his voice distant. “I don’t really feel like talking much.”

Your stomach twists. “Oh… that’s okay,” you reply, forcing yourself to sound understanding. “Do you just want me to stay on call with you, then? We don’t have to talk.”

Sunghoon exhales slowly, staring at the ceiling. “I think I just wanna sleep.”

You hesitate, gripping your phone a little tighter. “Okay,” you say softly. “I’ll let you rest. But… Sunghoon?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

Silence.

Too long of a silence.

Then finally, in a voice so quiet you almost don’t hear it, he mumbles, “Night, Y/N.”

And just like that, the screen goes dark.

He didn’t say it back. Again.

And this time, you’re not sure if he ever will.

That’s it. Just “yeah.” No teasing remark, no soft chuckle, no quiet “I miss you too.”

You swallow, ignoring the sting. “Nothing to say about that? You used to get all shy whenever I said stuff like this.”

He sighs. “I don’t know, Y/N. I’m just really tired.”

You try not to let the disappointment show in your voice. “I get that… I just—I feel like we barely talk anymore. I just want to feel close to you.”

Another pause. This one drags on a little too long.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he finally says, and this time, there’s no frustration, no sadness—just distance. Like he’s already somewhere else.

Your heart tightens. “Do you not want to talk to me?”

“It’s not that,” he mutters. “I just don’t have the energy right now.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you. Even though you don’t really believe him.

“…Okay,” you whisper. “I love you.”

He doesn’t say it back.

And for the first time, you don’t even have the energy to ask why.

Sunghoon stares at your name flashing on his screen, the vibration of your call buzzing in his hand. His break has just started, and he’s sitting with the other members, chatting and laughing, trying to unwind for a few minutes before going back into practice. He wants to answer, he really does, but he knows he doesn’t have the energy right now. His mind is too tired, his thoughts too scattered.

He glances over at his friends, who are talking about something ridiculous, and decides to let the call go to voicemail. “It’s no one,” he mutters to himself, feeling a flicker of guilt in his chest as he hangs up. But the guilt is drowned out by the noise of the room, the ease of conversation, and the constant pressure of what comes next.

Back to you, the call still ringing, still waiting on the other side.

You sit there, phone in hand, staring at the screen for a moment longer than you should. The sound of it ringing empties the room, the space between you growing wider with every unanswered call. You sigh, closing your eyes for a second. The familiar ache in your chest is back, heavier than before, as you reluctantly end the call.

This distance, this silence—it’s growing harder to ignore. And yet, you keep dialing, hoping, praying that maybe this time, just once, he’ll pick up.

You try to push the unease down, telling yourself it’s just a busy moment. He’s probably overwhelmed with practice, maybe distracted, but deep down, something tells you that it’s not just that anymore.

You leave a voicemail, your voice soft and hesitant. “Hey, Sunghoon… it’s me. I called because I wanted to hear your voice. I miss you. I know you’re busy, but… just wanted to check in. Hope everything’s okay.”

After hanging up, you sit there, waiting for the tiny moment of hope that he might call back. But the minutes stretch on, and your phone remains silent. You stare at it for a while, the weight of your unanswered call pressing against your chest.

The uncertainty begins to gnaw at you again. He hasn’t been the same lately, and you’ve been ignoring the signs, hoping things would go back to normal. But with every passing day, it feels like a door is closing, slowly but steadily.

You toss your phone aside, but the ache doesn’t go away. It lingers, an unspoken question hanging between you both. What happened?

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. You try to keep yourself busy, but the empty space he’s left behind in your heart feels louder with every minute that passes. You can’t help but think back to when he would call you every night, excited to hear your voice, to tell you about his day. Now, it feels like you’re clinging to something that’s slowly slipping away, and you don’t know how to hold on.

By the time you try again, it’s late. The day’s gone, and you’re sitting in bed, scrolling mindlessly through your messages and photos. You know you should probably let him have his space, but you can’t help it. You miss him. You miss the old him—the one who would answer your calls with a grin and talk to you like you were the most important part of his day.

This time, when you call, you stare at the screen, almost bracing for the rejection, the unanswered ring. But something inside you doesn’t want to give up. Not yet.

It rings.

And then it stops.

He picked up.

“Hello,” his voice sounds tired, hoarse, but you’re relieved to hear it at all. It’s been too long since the last time. You can barely contain your relief.

“Hi, Sunghoon,” you say, trying to sound casual, but you know your voice gives away the knot in your chest. “I’m glad you picked up. I was starting to think I wouldn’t hear from you today.”

There’s a long pause, and for a second, you wonder if he’ll hang up again. You can almost hear the gears in his head turning. “Sorry,” he finally murmurs, his voice low. “I’ve just been… busy.”

You nod even though you know he can’t see it. “I get it. But you’ve been busy a lot lately. I just… I miss talking to you. Like we used to.”

“I know,” he says quietly, his tone distant, yet tinged with something almost apologetic. “I’ve just had a lot on my plate. But you’re right. I’m sorry for being… distant.”

His words hang in the air, but they don’t feel like the apology you need. They’re words, yes, but there’s no warmth, no reassurance in them. You fight to keep your voice steady.

“I don’t need an apology,” you say, your heart beating faster. “I just want you. I just want us to be… us again.” You bite your lip, trying to hold back the rush of emotions threatening to spill. “I want to be there for you, Sunghoon. I want to be that person who makes you feel better when everything’s hard, but… I don’t know how to do that when you’re shutting me out.”

Another long pause. Then he exhales heavily, like he’s trying to find the right words. “It’s not you, Y/N. It’s just… everything. It’s harder than I thought. Being here… and everything that comes with it.”

Your chest tightens, but you force yourself to take a deep breath, pushing down the feeling of being left behind. “I know it’s hard. I get it, Sunghoon. I do. But you don’t have to go through it alone. You’re not alone in this.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and that silence feels more deafening than any of the words exchanged.

“I need to go,” he says quietly, his voice almost breaking. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you later.”

Before you can respond, the line goes silent again.

You stare at your phone for what feels like an eternity, the weight of it sinking deep into your bones. Another call that ends before it even really starts. Another goodbye that isn’t really said.

You want to scream, to throw your phone across the room, but you don’t. Instead, you clutch it tightly to your chest, willing yourself not to break. You thought it would get better, but now you’re not so sure anymore.

You only wish he’d realize you’re still here. Still waiting. Still holding on, even though it’s getting harder every day.

You try to push the weight of his absence aside, but it lingers, pulling at you with every word he says, or doesn’t say. The silence feels deafening when the call drops again, and you sigh softly, trying to keep things light. You hate that you’re always the one to reach out, always the one to try and make him smile. But it’s a fight you’re not ready to lose yet.

“Hey, can you turn on your camera?” you ask, your voice soft, but full of longing. “I miss seeing your face, Sunghoon. Just… turn it on for a bit?”

You hear him shift on the other end, and there’s a pause that stretches far too long. “No,” he answers quickly, his voice flat.

The response stings, and your chest tightens at the coldness in his voice. “Why?” you ask quietly, trying to push past the hurt. “I just want to see you. Just for a second.”

He sighs heavily, sounding exhausted. “I don’t feel like it, okay? Just… not today.”

You bite your lip, forcing the disappointment down. You try to laugh it off, but it comes out empty, more of a nervous chuckle than anything else. “Alright, fine. But you know I miss seeing your face. It’s not the same without it.”

There’s no response at first, and you wonder if he even heard you. You wait for a few moments, and just when you think he’s going to end the call without saying anything else, he mutters, “I’m sorry… I’m just… tired.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it, and keep your voice gentle. “I know you are. But… just remember, you can always turn on your camera for me. It doesn’t have to be perfect, I just want to see you, okay?”

He doesn’t say anything back. Instead, the line goes quiet again, and the conversation falls into that familiar emptiness—silent, distant. A space between the words, between the feelings, between the two of you.

The days blur together, and each time you call, you feel like you’re reaching out to someone who’s becoming harder and harder to hold onto. Sunghoon’s responses have grown shorter, and each time he picks up, it’s like you’re talking to a version of him that’s further and further away. You tell yourself he’s just busy, overwhelmed, that things will get better—but the silence between you is growing deafening.

You try again, the hope still there, the quiet voice in your mind that whispers that maybe today will be different.

The phone rings, and for a moment, you hold your breath, hoping for a familiar voice. When it finally picks up, it’s not the warm, enthusiastic “Hey!” you’re used to. It’s flat. Distant.

“Hey,” Sunghoon says, his tone lacking the usual excitement.

“Hi, Sunghoon,” you try to sound upbeat, but the strain in your voice betrays you. “I miss you. I feel like I haven’t heard from you properly in so long.”

He sighs heavily, and for a second, you think he might say something comforting, might try to reassure you. Instead, there’s nothing. Just that quiet, suffocating silence.

“I’ve been busy,” he mutters, barely audible over the static.

“I know you’re busy,” you reply, forcing the patience into your voice. “But I don’t want to feel like I’m chasing you all the time, Sunghoon. It’s like… like I don’t even matter to you anymore. ”

You can feel his shift, hear him pull back even further. “I didn’t say you didn’t matter,” he says, his voice cold now, like he’s irritated with you for feeling this way. “I’m just dealing with a lot right now, okay?”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion or the frustration building up inside you, but something snaps. “Don’t you think I know that? I’m not saying it’s easy for you, but I miss you. I miss hearing from you. You promised me you’d call. You promised we’d talk every day, Sunghoon!”

He doesn’t answer at first, and you can feel your anger building, that familiar ache in your chest turning to something sharper. “I’ve been trying, Y/N,” he finally says, his voice barely controlled. “You think I don’t want to talk to you? I’m just tired, okay? I have a million things to do, and I don’t need you making this harder.”

You clench your fists, biting back the frustration that’s threatening to boil over. “Making it harder? I’m just trying to be here for you. But you—you’re acting like I’m some inconvenience. Like you don’t even want to talk to me anymore. You’re shutting me out, Sunghoon!”

“I’m not shutting you out,” he snaps, his voice rising. “I just can’t deal with this right now, okay? I can’t deal with you needing so much from me when I’m barely hanging on myself.”

You feel your breath catch in your throat, the sting of his words sharper than you expected. “So now it’s my fault?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m the one who’s ‘too much’ for you now? That’s what this is?”

Sunghoon’s silence feels colder now, like he’s turned away from you completely. “I didn’t say that.”

“Well, it sure feels like it,” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “You don’t have time for me anymore. You’re always too tired, too busy, too everything. And I’m just supposed to sit here and pretend like everything’s fine?”

He exhales sharply, sounding exhausted, but his tone is still distant. “I can’t always be there for you, Y/N. I’m not perfect. I’m just trying to get through this.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not asking for perfection,” you say, your voice thick with frustration. “I’m asking for you to be here. For me. For us. But all you’re doing is pushing me away.”

The silence that follows feels like a wall between you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t try to make it better, and the weight of that realization hits you harder than anything else. You can feel the distance between you two, like an ocean that you can’t cross no matter how hard you try.

Finally, Sunghoon speaks again, but his words sting. “Maybe you should just move on, Y/N. You don’t need to deal with this. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stare at your phone, unable to respond, your throat tightening as the tears you’ve been holding back start to rise. “Is that what you really want?” you whisper, but he’s already gone, the line going dead before you can hear his response.

You sit there, phone in hand, feeling like you’ve just lost the person you loved, even though he’s still on the other side of the world. You wanted to fix things, to make it right again, but right now, you’re not even sure what’s left to save.

And just like that, the call ends.

The days drag on, each one blurring into the next. You tell yourself to be patient, that things will get better with time, but each call you make—each unanswered ring—chips away at the hope you’re clinging to.

You start calling every day, at the same time, like a routine, but every time you hear the familiar beep of the voicemail, it feels like a dagger to your chest. The voicemail greeting, his voice a distant memory, echoes in your ears like a cruel reminder of how far away he’s become.

“Hey, it’s Sunghoon. I’m not available right now, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you,” the robotic message says. And every time, you leave a message, pouring your heart into each word, hoping, just hoping that he’ll hear it, that he’ll pick up, that things will go back to the way they used to be.

“Hey, Sunghoon,” you say in the first voicemail, trying to keep your voice steady. “I miss you. I’ve been trying to reach you, but… it feels like you’re not even trying anymore. I just want to talk. Please pick up the phone. I don’t want to feel like I’m the only one fighting for us.”

The next day, you try again, hoping he’s had time to think about it. Maybe today will be different, maybe he’ll answer this time. But again, the same voicemail greeting. Your heart sinks a little lower.

“Hey, it’s me again,” you say, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m still here. I don’t know how much longer I can do this, Sunghoon. I miss you. I need you to pick up. Please… please let me in again.”

Every message feels like a plea, like a desperate attempt to reach him through the wall he’s built. But it’s always the same. Voicemail after voicemail. Nothing.

You can’t remember the last time he picked up, and the emptiness of each unanswered call is starting to suffocate you. But still, you keep calling. Because you can’t bring yourself to stop. You tell yourself it’s just a phase, that it’s only temporary, that maybe he’s just busy, overwhelmed. But the silence is too loud now, and the uncertainty gnaws at you.

And still, you keep calling.

Sunghoon scrolls through his phone, his thumb hovering over the missed calls from you. Each notification is a reminder of the silence between you two, and he feels a pang in his chest each time he sees your name on the screen. Days pass, and he tells himself that he’ll call back soon, that he’ll make things right, but the weight of everything—his schedule, the practice, his exhaustion—keeps him from picking up the phone.

It’s been a while since he last heard your voice. He used to look forward to your calls every day, the way you’d brighten his mood with just a few words. But now, it feels like something is different. He’s caught up in the whirlwind of his own world, and he tells himself that it’s all temporary. You’ll understand, he thinks. You’ll be patient.

But then, one day, there are no more calls. No more texts. The notifications stop coming, and it hits him harder than he expects. The silence feels strange, unsettling even. You always used to reach out—every day without fail. And now, there’s nothing. No missed call. No “hey, I miss you.”

Sunghoon stares at his phone, unsure of what to feel. There’s a part of him that wants to reach out, to apologize, to ask you what’s going on, but he doesn’t know where to start. He wonders if you’ve finally given up on him, on the relationship, on the person he’s become. The thought lingers in his mind, but he’s frozen, unable to make the first move.

He could call, but every time he picks up his phone, he hesitates. What would I even say? He can’t find the right words. And the longer he waits, the harder it becomes to reach out.

The silence is deafening. And as the days go by, he starts to realize that he might’ve let you slip away. He wonders if it’s too late, if you’ve already moved on, if he’ll ever be able to fix this. The thought eats at him, but the fear of confronting it head-on paralyzes him.

He’s lost track of time. He doesn’t know how many days it’s been since the last time you tried to call, but it’s long enough for him to feel the distance between you, the absence where there used to be a connection.

Maybe he’s the one who’s been pushing you away all along. And maybe, just maybe, it’s too late to fix it.

You’ve been staring at your phone for what feels like forever, waiting, hoping for something—anything—from Sunghoon. The days without his calls have been suffocating. The silence between you two is louder than anything else, and it’s starting to settle in your chest like a heavy weight.

You’ve almost convinced yourself that it’s over, that he’s moved on, that maybe he doesn’t care anymore. You’ve stopped calling. You don’t even know if he noticed the absence, but you couldn’t keep doing it. You couldn’t keep chasing after someone who didn’t seem to want you anymore.

But then, your phone lights up.

It’s him.

For a second, your heart stops. You stare at his name flashing across the screen, a mixture of hope and hesitation flooding through you. Part of you wants to pick up and hear his voice, to hear the explanation you’ve been waiting for. But another part of you feels scared—scared of what he might say, scared of what you might hear.

Your thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before you finally press accept, the sound of your breath catching in your throat as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hey,” Sunghoon says, his voice sounding tired, but it’s still familiar, still comforting in a way. But there’s something off about it. His tone is different. “I… I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.”

You don’t say anything at first. You can feel your heart beating louder than before, the anticipation and the hurt mixing in your chest. “I didn’t think you would call,” you manage to say, your voice quieter than you intended.

“I know,” he replies, sounding almost apologetic. “I’m sorry for not reaching out sooner. I don’t know how to explain it.”

You can feel the lump in your throat as you try to hold back the words you’ve been dying to say. “Why didn’t you?” You let out a shaky breath. “I kept calling, Sunghoon. I kept trying to reach you, and… you just kept ignoring me.”

There’s a long silence, and when he finally speaks, it’s almost like he’s struggling with his words. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he says, his voice softer now, as if he’s finally realizing the weight of what’s happened. “I’ve just been… caught up. Everything’s been so much. And I didn’t want to drag you into it.”

“Drag me into it?” The frustration creeps back into your voice, but you try to keep it in check. “I was already in it, Sunghoon. I’ve been here, waiting for you to just… talk to me. You promised we’d always talk, but you stopped trying. And I just… I just feel so alone right now.”

He’s quiet again, and you wonder if he’s even listening. But then, you hear him take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve tried harder,” he admits, the guilt in his voice unmistakable. “I didn’t mean for things to get this way. I’ve just been so stressed, and I didn’t know how to juggle everything.”

The words hit you harder than you expect, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. The sadness in his voice is so raw, so real, and despite everything, you can feel a small part of you softening, wanting to forgive him.

“I don’t want to be angry anymore,” you say quietly, trying to steady your emotions. “I just need you to be here, Sunghoon. To actually be here with me. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I can’t keep doing this alone.”

Sunghoon’s voice cracks, and for a second, it sounds like he’s struggling to hold back tears. “I know. I know, and I’m so sorry. I’ll do better. I’ll make it right. I promise.”

Your chest tightens, but you let out a soft breath. “I hope you do, Sunghoon. I really do.”

You stay silent for a while, listening to each other’s breathing. The call feels like a fragile moment, like something that could either fix everything or break it all apart. But for now, at least, you’re talking. At least, for now, you have him back.

As the days go by, things start to shift, slowly but surely. The calls with Sunghoon become more frequent, and you can feel the connection growing between you two again, even if it’s over the phone. There’s a certain ease when you talk now, a comfort that wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s because he’s finally starting to open up, or maybe it’s because the silence you both felt for so long has finally started to lift.

One evening, you’re on FaceTime with him, and as soon as he picks up, you can’t help but laugh a little. “Hey, what’s up?” you ask, your voice playful.

Sunghoon grins, holding up a piece of fried chicken to the camera. “I’m having dinner,” he says, already knowing what you’re thinking.

“Fried chicken again?” you tease him, raising an eyebrow. “Well at least you’re not starving yourself baby.”

He shrugs, looking innocent. “I just really like it. Besides, it’s K-fried chicken! You have to appreciate that.” He then leans closer to the camera, his grin widening. “You want some ASMR?”

You laugh. “You’re serious?”

“Of course! You’ve never heard K-fried chicken ASMR before?” he says, before biting into the crispy chicken. The sound of crunching fills the screen, and you can’t help but giggle. It’s so silly, but it’s so… him.

As if on cue, you hear a voice in the background. “What are you two doing?” Jake’s face suddenly pops up in the corner of the screen, interrupting the moment. His eyes flicker between you and Sunghoon, amused.

“Hey, Jake,” Sunghoon says, a bit sheepish, but his smile is still there. “Just having some fried chicken with my girlfriend.”

Jake raises an eyebrow, a smirk creeping across his face. “Ah, I see. You two really are cheesy as fuck, huh?”

You laugh, trying to hide the pink creeping up on your cheeks. “Nuh, uh. Just trying to make the most of it.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes playfully at Jake before turning his attention back to you. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just jealous of my fried chicken skills.”

Jake laughs, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay. I’m sure that’s it,” he teases before making an exaggerated gagging sound. “Just promise me you’re not going to do this every time, Sunghoon. I’m pretty sure we all don’t want to hear your ASMR.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “We’ll see. Maybe next time I’ll do some kimchi ASMR.”

Jake just laughs and shakes his head before walking off, leaving you and Sunghoon alone again.

You smile at Sunghoon. “You know, you’re so cheesy.”

He smiles back, his eyes softening. “Only for you.”

The playfulness between you two feels different now, more natural, like you’re both letting your guards down a little bit. Every day, it feels like the distance is slowly fading away, and you find yourself looking forward to these moments—just the two of you, talking about the most random things, but feeling more connected than ever.

“Next time, I’ll do a real ASMR for you,” Sunghoon says with a wink, the teasing edge to his voice, but there’s an undeniable warmth in his smile.

And for the first time in a while, it feels like everything might just be okay.

The next time you FaceTime Sunghoon, there’s a familiar, but still comforting energy in the air. The tension that had been present before seems to have eased a bit, but it’s still clear that things aren’t completely back to normal yet. Despite the lingering distance, Sunghoon greets you with a soft smile.

“Hey, remember that makeup you showed me last time?” he asks, his voice light. “I want to see it again and give you my real review.”

You laugh softly, raising an eyebrow. “Your real review? Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

He grins, a playful glint in his eyes. “I promise, I’m not going to hold back this time.”

You shake your head, amused, as you grab the blush and lip tint you showed him earlier. You hold them up to the camera, showing him both products. “Here it is. The blush and the lip tint.”

Sunghoon leans in, his face so close to the screen that you can see the concentration in his eyes as he inspects them. His gaze flickers back to you, and a teasing smile spreads across his face. “Hmm, I can’t even focus on the makeup,” he says with a chuckle. “You’re just so cute.”

You roll your eyes, trying to hide the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’m trying to show you makeup here, Sunghoon. Focus!”

But he just continues to stare at you, his eyes soft and filled with admiration. “I’m focused. You know, that blush is nice, but I think the real highlight is you. I swear, you’re too pretty for your own good.” His tone is flirty, and it makes you feel a little warmer inside.

You laugh, feeling your cheeks warm up, but you play along. “Really? You’re just saying that.”

“I’m serious,” Sunghoon says, his voice lowering a bit as he leans in closer to the camera. “I can’t even think straight when you’re this cute.” He pauses for a moment, looking at you like he’s memorizing every little detail of your face. “You look even better on camera than you do in person. I can’t decide if it’s the makeup or just you.”

His words make your heart skip a beat, but you try to keep your cool. “You’re ridiculous,” you say, laughing.

“No, really,” he insists, his voice teasing but with an undeniable sincerity. “You’re just… amazing. Everything about you is perfect.”

You’re about to respond, but before you can, he interrupts with a grin. “Okay, okay, now that I’ve given you my real review—” he pauses, a glint of mischief in his eyes, “—you’re absolutely killing it with that makeup. But I’m still more into how you look without it.”

You bite your lip, feeling a little bashful. “Sunghoon…”

“I’m just saying,” he continues, winking at you through the screen. “You’ve got that natural beauty. I don’t know how you do it. But I love it.”

You smile at him, feeling a rush of affection. “Well, I love you too, you know.”

Sunghoon’s eyes soften, and he suddenly looks a little more serious than usual. “I love you more,” he says quietly, a tender smile on his lips.

The playful banter gives way to something deeper, a warmth between you two that’s undeniable. Even though the calls have had their ups and downs, moments like these remind you that it’s all worth it.

The week of Sunghoon’s comeback has finally arrived, and with every update he posts on social media, you can’t help but feel a mix of excitement and longing. Watching him rehearse, getting closer to the big day, it’s all so thrilling, but at the same time, it makes the distance between you two feel even more intense. You wish you could be there with him, supporting him in person.

The idea hits you out of nowhere one night as you’re scrolling through his posts. You’ve been waiting for the right moment to see him, and this feels like the perfect time. His comeback is such a monumental event in his career, and you want to be there to cheer him on—not through a screen, but in person.

You’re standing outside the building, the anticipation making your heart race. You can’t stop smiling, even though you’re nervous. The plan is simple: sneak in, find Sunghoon, and surprise him. You just hope he’ll be as excited as you are when he sees you. But there’s a small part of you that wonders if it’s too much—if it’s too soon, too unexpected. Still, you push that doubt away. You came all this way for him, and this surprise is going to be worth it.

Before you can get too lost in your thoughts, you see a familiar face approaching: Ni-ki. He smiles at you as he walks over, his usual cool demeanor making him look like he’s ready to break into a dance at any second.

“Y/N,” Ni-ki greets you, his voice light and playful. “You really came. Sunghoon’s going to be shocked.”

You nod, a little too excited. “I know. I can’t wait to see his face when he realizes I’m here.”

Ni-ki gives you a mischievous grin. “He’s in his room right now, so we’ll just go in and surprise him.” He leads you through the hallways, and every step feels like a drumbeat in your chest.

As you reach Sunghoon’s door, Ni-ki pauses, a teasing look in his eyes. “Ready for this?” he asks, his voice soft so you don’t alert Sunghoon yet.

You nod, your heart racing. “Let’s do it.”

Ni-ki pushes the door open just a bit, giving you a glimpse of Sunghoon sitting on his bed, his head down, focused on his phone. He doesn’t even look up when the door creaks open.

With a quick glance at Ni-ki, you step inside, your heart pounding as you make your move toward Sunghoon. You take a deep breath before calling out his name. “Sunghoon!”

His head jerks up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Y/N?” His voice is soft, almost as if he’s still trying to process the sight of you standing in front of him. For a split second, it feels like everything is perfect. But then you notice something—there’s no excitement in his eyes, no rush of joy, like you expected. Instead, he just stares at you with a blank expression.

You smile nervously, feeling the unease growing inside you. “I wanted to surprise you. I’m here for your comeback, Sunghoon.”

He looks at you for a moment longer, and then, his gaze shifts. His lips press into a thin line as if he’s holding something back. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t even seem remotely excited, despite the obvious shock of you being there. His posture is stiff, distant.

“Yeah… thanks for coming, I guess,” Sunghoon mutters, his tone flat.

The words sting, and you suddenly feel smaller than you should. You’ve traveled all this way, wanting to be there for him, to show him how much you care—but this coldness, this distance in his voice, catches you off guard.

Ni-ki steps back, sensing the tension in the air, and quietly mutters something about leaving you two alone before disappearing down the hallway, giving you space. You’re left standing there, feeling like an outsider in your own surprise. The silence between you and Sunghoon is palpable, making your heart sink even deeper.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words feel trapped in your throat. “Sunghoon, is everything okay?” You try to sound calm, but there’s a shakiness to your voice that you can’t hide.

He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture almost too familiar, and sighs. “I’m fine. It’s just… it’s been a long day. I’m tired.”

The excuse feels weak, like he’s brushing you off. You can’t ignore the way his words seem to distance him even more. The Sunghoon you talked to on the phone—the one who always smiled and laughed, the one who joked around and called you cute—feels like a distant memory now.

You take a step closer, your heart sinking further. “You don’t seem fine, Sunghoon. I came all this way to see you… to surprise you. Don’t I at least deserve a little more than this?”

His gaze shifts, avoiding yours, and he mumbles, “I said I’m fine. I just need some space right now.”

You feel the distance between you two growing, wider and wider with every word that leaves his lips. It feels like you’re talking to a completely different person—the Sunghoon you used to know, the one you’d talk to every day, isn’t here. Instead, there’s a coldness you don’t recognize.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure of what to do. The excitement you had when you first arrived has drained from your body, replaced by a sense of confusion and hurt. Why does he seem so distant now? What happened to the Sunghoon who was always so kind, so playful?

“I’m sorry. I thought this would be a good surprise,” you say quietly, your voice cracking slightly.

Sunghoon’s eyes flicker to you for a brief second, but then he looks away again. “I didn’t ask for this… I didn’t ask for you to come here.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. You try to mask the hurt, but it’s impossible. You’ve never felt this far away from him, and you can’t help but wonder if this distance will continue to grow, no matter how hard you try.

You swallow, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I thought I could help, but… maybe it was a mistake.

The room feels suffocating as Sunghoon doesn’t say anything more. You wish he’d just look at you the way he used to, with affection, with love. But right now, you feel completely invisible to him.

You slowly back away, not knowing what to say or do. The surprise you thought would bring you closer has only pushed you further apart.

You get a rush of adrenaline as you think about it: What if I just surprise him?

The thought of flying to Seoul without telling him sends a little thrill through you. No heads-up, no warning—just a surprise that shows up when he least expects it. The thought of seeing his face light up when he realizes you’re there for his comeback makes your heart flutter. You can imagine his shock, his joy. It would be the perfect way to show him how much you care and how proud you are, without needing to say a word.

You don’t waste any time. You start making the arrangements, booking the flight and planning the logistics. It’s a bit last-minute, and you know it’s risky. But at this point, the excitement is too much to hold back. You pack a small bag, just enough to get you through the few days, and make sure to grab something small for him—a surprise gift to make it even more special.

The whole time you’re planning it, you keep it to yourself. You don’t want to ruin the surprise. No texts, no hints, just silence. You’re counting down the days until you’ll see him, and every minute feels like it’s dragging on. But the moment you board the plane to Seoul, it finally feels real. You’re doing it. You’re going to see him.

The flight feels like it lasts forever, but the anticipation only grows as you finally land in Seoul. You take a deep breath as you walk through the terminal. You’re here now, and you can’t wait to see Sunghoon’s reaction when you show up at his rehearsal or his dorm, wherever you’ll find him.

You don’t tell him where you are or what you’re doing, letting the surprise unfold when the time is right. Every step you take towards surprising him feels like a step towards rekindling everything that’s been lost between you two. You smile to yourself, knowing that when he sees you, it’ll be all worth it.

Ni-ki gives you one last reassuring smile before standing up. “I’m going to grab you some snacks,” he says, his tone gentle but firm. “Just stay here and take a breather. I’ll be right back.”

You nod slowly, wiping your eyes and trying to calm your breathing. The room feels a little quieter now, the soft hum of the building around you making the space feel a little less heavy. As Ni-ki leaves, you lean back in the chair, trying to steady yourself. You’re still shaken, the lingering hurt from Sunghoon’s coldness making your heart ache, but you’re grateful for the small moment of peace that Ni-ki’s presence offered.

After a few moments, Ni-ki comes back, pushing a small cart with an assortment of snacks—chips, fruit, cookies, and bottled drinks. “The building provides these for us,” he says with a small smile, setting the cart next to you. “You can help yourself.”

You offer him a faint smile, though it’s clear you’re still struggling. “Thanks, Ni-ki.”

He pats your shoulder before giving you a soft look. “I’m gonna need a second. Don’t worry, I’m going to talk to Sunghoon. He needs to hear this.”

You look up at him, confused but too tired to ask more. “What do you mean?”

Ni-ki’s eyes narrow slightly, his expression turning more serious. “You don’t deserve to be treated that way, Y/N. No one should make you feel like this, especially not Sunghoon. I’m going to make sure he understands that.”

Before you can respond, he turns and heads toward the door. “Just stay here and take care of yourself for now. I’ll be back in a bit.”

With that, Ni-ki exits the room, leaving you alone with the snacks and your swirling thoughts. The silence stretches around you, the sound of your own breathing louder in your ears. You don’t feel hungry, but the thought of something familiar, something simple, is comforting. You reach for a bottle of water, but your mind keeps drifting back to Sunghoon—what’s going on with him? Why was he so distant?

Ni-ki’s words echo in your mind. “No one should make you feel like this.”

You hope he’s right—that maybe Sunghoon just needs to be reminded of how much you mean to him. But a part of you wonders if things are already too broken to fix.

As you sit there, slowly nibbling on the snacks Ni-ki brought, you try not to overthink it. But the uncertainty is hard to shake. When Ni-ki returns, you’ll probably have more answers, and maybe you’ll finally understand why Sunghoon shut you out.

Meanwhile, somewhere upstairs, Ni-ki is on his way to find Sunghoon, hoping to give him the wake-up call he needs.

Ni-ki walks away from the small practice room and heads upstairs to where Sunghoon is. The building is quieter now, the soft echo of footsteps on the floors the only noise. He makes his way down the hall to Sunghoon’s room, his steps deliberate. As he reaches the door, he hesitates for just a moment, but then he knocks lightly.

“Hyung,” Ni-ki calls, his voice steady but carrying an edge of concern. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

There’s a brief pause before the door creaks open. Sunghoon stands in the doorway, his face tired, his eyes not meeting Ni-ki’s. He’s wearing the same blank expression that’s become all too familiar lately. Ni-ki looks at him with a mix of frustration and sympathy.

“What’s up?” Sunghoon mutters, sounding distracted, his voice flat.

Ni-ki sighs, stepping inside without waiting for a response. “It’s about Y/N.”

Sunghoon furrows his brows slightly but says nothing, just leans back against his desk, clearly not interested in whatever Ni-ki has to say. He’s been distant lately, almost cold, and Ni-ki isn’t sure what Sunghoon’s thinking anymore.

“Y/N’s upset,” Ni-ki continues, crossing his arms. “She’s in tears right now.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flickers to him briefly before drifting away again. “What about?” he asks, his tone still flat, like he doesn’t really care.

Ni-ki clenches his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. “Because of you, Sunghoon. She came all this way to surprise you, and you… you barely acknowledged her. You shut her out, and now she’s questioning everything. She’s hurt.”

Sunghoon stays quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on something in the distance, his posture slumped. He doesn’t seem to grasp the gravity of what Ni-ki is saying.

“I didn’t mean to… hurt her,” Sunghoon mutters, though his words don’t seem to carry the weight of genuine remorse. “I’m just—there’s a lot going on right now.”

Ni-ki steps closer, his voice firm. “I get that. I know you’re stressed, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like that. She’s been calling you every day, Sunghoon. She cares about you. But you’ve been pulling away, and it’s obvious.”

Sunghoon’s eyes meet Ni-ki’s for the first time, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face. He doesn’t respond, just looks away again, rubbing his temple like the conversation is giving him a headache.

“You need to fix this,” Ni-ki says, his voice softer now, but still laced with concern. “She’s not some kind of distraction. You can’t just keep shutting her out when things get hard. If you keep doing this, you’ll lose her.”

Sunghoon doesn’t answer immediately. He seems lost in thought, like he’s weighing something in his mind. Finally, after a long silence, he sighs deeply. “I don’t know what’s happening. I… I don’t want to lose her, Ni-ki, but everything is overwhelming right now. I don’t know how to balance it all.”

Ni-ki watches him for a moment, his eyes softening. “I get that you’re struggling, Sunghoon. But you need to show her that you care. Don’t shut her out. Don’t let this become something bigger than it needs to be.”

Sunghoon finally looks up at Ni-ki, his eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and something else—regret, maybe. “I’ll talk to her,” he says, his voice quieter now, like he finally understands the weight of what’s going on. “I’ll fix it.”

Ni-ki nods, though he’s not entirely convinced. “You better. Or you’ll lose her for good.” He gives him one last look before turning to leave. “Don’t waste any more time.”

As Ni-ki exits the room, he can’t shake the feeling that Sunghoon has a long way to go. But at least now, maybe, he’s starting to realize just how much he stands to lose.

Sunghoon’s heart pounds as he stands in front of the small practice room. The conversation with Ni-ki still lingers in his mind. He knows he messed up, knows that he’s been distant, and he can’t keep letting you slip away. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever comes next.

He hesitates for just a moment before opening the door and stepping inside. There you are, sitting with your arms crossed, looking down at your phone, your expression a mixture of exhaustion and sadness. Your eyes meet his for the briefest of seconds, and he feels his chest tighten.

“Y/N,” Sunghoon says softly, stepping closer. He watches as you lift your head, your eyes wary but hopeful. He can see the pain in them—pain he caused—and it makes his heart ache.

“I… I know I’ve been distant. I’ve been so caught up in everything, and I’ve hurt you because of it,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to do that. I’m sorry.”

You don’t say anything at first, just stare at him, taking in his words. Sunghoon feels the weight of the silence between you, like every moment he hesitates, he’s pushing you further away.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, his voice cracking slightly. “I’ve been an idiot. I let everything else distract me, and I pushed you aside without even realizing it. But I’m not going to let that happen anymore. I care about you… so much, Y/N.”

You swallow hard, your throat dry. “I’ve been trying, Sunghoon. I’ve been calling you every day, I’ve been trying to be there for you, but it feels like you just… didn’t care. I came here to surprise you, to be with you, and it felt like you didn’t even notice.”

“I noticed,” he says quickly, stepping closer to you, his eyes soft. “I just… I didn’t know how to handle everything. I was too focused on all the wrong things, and I didn’t see how much I was hurting you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N. Please don’t think I don’t care. You mean the world to me.

You look at him for a long moment, the walls around your heart slowly starting to crack. The distance between you both, the pain, the confusion—it all feels like it might finally be fading.

“Do you really care?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper, vulnerable. “Because it’s been hard, Sunghoon. I don’t want to feel like I’m just… an afterthought.”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer until he’s right in front of you. “I care more than you know,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “And I’m going to show you. I promise, I’ll make it right.”

You look up at him, eyes searching his face for any trace of doubt, but all you see is sincerity and regret. And for the first time in days, you feel like you can breathe again.

Sunghoon hesitates, his hand reaching out slowly, fingers brushing against your cheek as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. When you don’t, he gently cups your face, his thumb brushing over your skin as he leans in, his breath mingling with yours.

“I’m sorry for everything,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible as he closes the distance between you. His lips meet yours gently at first, a soft, tentative kiss, like he’s testing the waters, hoping you’ll kiss him back.

You do, pressing your lips against his, and everything else falls away. There’s no more distance, no more uncertainty. Just the warmth of his kiss, the feeling of his arms pulling you closer, and the quiet understanding that things are going to be okay.

When the kiss breaks, you both stay close, foreheads resting against each other as you catch your breath. Sunghoon’s eyes are full of softness, his expression tender as he looks at you.

“I’ll make sure I never hurt you like this again,” he promises quietly, his voice thick with emotion.

“I know you will,” you whisper back, your hands resting on his chest, feeling his heart beat beneath your fingertips. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says with a smile, his eyes lighting up. And for the first time in what feels like forever, everything feels right again.

You both stand there for a moment, letting the silence between you feel comfortable for the first time in days. Sunghoon gently holds your hand as you both walk out of the practice room, the weight of everything that’s happened finally starting to lift. The distance, the misunderstandings, the pain—they all seem smaller now, fading with every step you take toward something more solid, more real.

“I’m never letting you go, Y/N,” Sunghoon murmurs as you both walk together. His grip on your hand tightens, and you can feel his sincerity in every word.

You smile up at him, feeling lighter than you have in so long. “I’m not going anywhere, Sunghoon.”

There’s a warmth in your chest as the two of you make your way out of the building. For the first time in what feels like forever, everything feels right. You know there will still be hard days ahead, but you also know that with Sunghoon by your side, there’s nothing you can’t handle.

As you step out into the world together, hand in hand, you realize that the future may be uncertain, but for once, you’re not afraid. Because with him, you know you’ll make it through anything.

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