#i try not to ever rush time forward but...

[scarletmika]

Sunflower : ̗̀➛ Robert "Bob" Floyd x Reader

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Mitchell!Reader

Summary: Bob Floyd was head over heels for you from the moment you met. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him. But Hangman knew just how to get under people's skin, too well sometimes, and sometimes frustration hits a boiling point when the people you don't want to hurt are standing in the way.

Warnings: fluff, some angst, established relationship, language, Hangman acting like an ass, female reader

Word Count: 3,771 words

Requests are open! : ̗̀➛ Find my masterlist here

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: ✧

Pete “Maverick” Mitchell always had one rule for his daughter: no dating any Military men, or ladies, until he was dead. You’d always found the rule dumb, but your dad was firm on it. He knew what those men were like, he used to be one of them himself, part of the reason he ended up with a daughter of his own. Though he’d spend your entire life reminding you that you were the greatest gift the world had ever given him, and that’s why he was so protective with his different rules as you grew up.

You adhered to them for a long time…until Bob Floyd came along.

Maverick had just been called back to Top Gun for the first time in years, and while he was excited and terrified to come back, he was excited at the prospect of seeing you. You’d chosen to attend the University of California at San Diego, and loved the city so much you’d settled in it after graduation and never left. Living in a city, surrounded by Military men at every corner, and through the years you’d obeyed your father’s rule and steered clear of them all.

You could remember the first time you met Bob as if it had been yesterday. A text from Bradley Bradshaw, a man you’d grown up to see as practically your blood brother, telling you to meet him down at the Hard Deck. That was news to you, that he was even back in the States in the first place, but you also knew it meant he was most likely here on a mission.

“There’s my favorite girl!” Bradley had whooped out the second he’d finished his song on the piano, the rest of the bar going back to their own conversations as the jukebox was plugged back in. He’d practically jumped off the piano bench, rushing forward to bring you into a hug, lifting you up with a spin as you laughed, hitting his shoulder lightly. “Would you believe me if I told you you’re my favorite part of coming back to the States?”

“Absolutely not one bit, Brad-”

“Hate to interrupt…but who’s she, Rooster?”

You pulled back from your brother, shooting a friendly smile toward what you could tell by their uniforms were other Navy fighter pilots gathered around the piano, watching you both curiously. Bradley threw an arm over your shoulders, giving it a squeeze.

“This right here is my infamous Sunflower-”

“You eat ONE of those as a child and get a stupid nickname-”

“I’ve told you guys about her before, practically my little sister,” he pointed off at the rest of his friends, listing them off. “That’s Mickey, otherwise known as Fanboy and Reuben, also known as Payback. That right there is Phoenix, but when I talk about her with you I just call her Natasha. We’ve got Jake, more well-known as Bag- sorry, I mean Hangman. And that’s Bob.”

You raised an eyebrow, gaze fixed on Bob questioningly as you realized Bradley wasn’t continuing his introductions.

“Just Bob?”

The man in question seemed to get flustered a bit, trying to speak and not seemingly able to find the words as his cheeks flushed.

“Uh, well, you know-”

“We just use Bob as his callsign too,” it was Hangman that spoke up, clapping a hand on Bob’s shoulder that seemed like it was in mock support. “Baby-On-Board seemed pretty spot-on to call him.”

Your face dropped, already understanding why your best friend seemed to bristle at the entire existence of Jake Seresin. You crossed your arms, shooting the man a pointed look.

“At least babies are cute. They also probably don’t leave their wingmen out to dry, if your own callsign is anything to go off of,”

The howling laughter of the entire group brought a smile to your face, including the look on Hangman’s face that clearly showed he’d been knocked down a peg by your words alone. You took the lapse in conversation to lock eyes with Bob again, sending him a smile and a sly wink.

He wouldn’t admit it, but Bob was head over heels for you from then on.

The team didn’t think they’d be seeing you around that often after that night, until they learned you were Maverick’s daughter. You might not have been on base with them all day, every day, but every second they weren’t on base you were with them all, ingrained with them like one of the family.

Nights at the Hard Deck, beach days learning to work together as a team in preparation for a mission, or the few days some of them managed to get off early enough to swing by and say hello to you at work. You spent all of your time with them, and those Navy fighter pilots had quickly become your best friends.

Many of them, mainly Fanboy and Hangman, had tried to get your number multiple times, to no avail. They were either stopped by Rooster’s protective gaze on you, your own father’s murderous look he’d shoot them, or a simple and polite no from you every single time. Natasha was the only one who got your number.

Bob didn’t think he stood a chance either, having overheard Rooster talking about how your father had a rule for you about dating Military men as it was, so he never tried. That’s why it surprised him so much when you’d walked up behind him at the Hard Deck one night, plucking his phone straight from his hands when no one was looking and typing in your phone number without another word.

Phoenix was the one who noticed more than others, given that Bob was her WSO. How every single time they weren’t up in the air training for the uranium mission, or being lectured back on the ground, he was buried in his phone with a smile and a blush on his cheeks. Or the way he disappeared from the base the second he was allowed to, or how you both seemed to always be around one another now wherever you all were hanging out at.

The bird strike was the first time you’d accepted that maybe you were on the verge of breaking your father’s single rule he had for you your entire life.

Maverick knew how close you’d become with the entire team, and called you the second he could to inform you of the accident. You were already in your car and on your way to the base before your father had told you he’d gotten special permission from Cyclone to let you on base.

You’d practically flew into Natasha’s arms the second you caught sight of her in the medical wing, asking her a thousand times if she was okay and checking her over. Once you’d backed out of her arms and set your sights on Bob, you could feel the overwhelming urge to cry overtake you. You’d stepped into his arms in an instant, burying your head in his neck as you began to cry, and Bob didn’t stop holding you until the tears subsided.

It was right before the Uranium mission where your relationship with Bob changed in an instant.

You were already worried sick, knowing your father was now leading the mission. You’d gotten a text directly after from Rooster informing you that you dad would be leading the mission, followed by one from your father himself to announce it. A bunch of texts streamed in, but you couldn’t bother to answer them as the nauseous feeling inside of you only grew. That pit in your stomach grew bigger as you realized that your father and Bradley’s lives weren’t the only ones you were overly concerned about, but Bob’s too.

You’d sequestered yourself for the rest of the day, ignoring texts from everyone as you realized that what you felt for Bob went entirely past platonic feelings. It was the next day when you’d opened your front door after the doorbell rang to Bob standing there in his Navy dress whites. You didn’t say a word to him, and he didn’t say a word to you either, the pair of you simply colliding in the middle in a kiss that had the rules you’d followed all your life long forgotten.

“Maverick is going to kill me for this,” he’d practically moaned out through kisses as you gripped onto the back of his neck, pulling him back in every time he pulled away for even a second.

“Good, means he’ll keep you alive during the mission to kill you after,” Bob had finally gotten you to stop chasing after his lips, pulling back to see the tears slowly streaming down your face as he gently wiped them away. “Just come back to me…all of you.”

“I promise, Sunflower,”

This wasn’t the first time your father had been on deployment. You’d had plenty of friends over the years in the military, too. This was far from the first time you’d ever dealt with people you care about throwing themselves into the line of fire and risking their lives. But this time, it held a new weight to it.

You were at the forefront of Bob’s mind the entire mission. The moment Maverick called his name alongside Phoenix’s own, his first thought was of you. Of the prettiest girl he’d ever laid eyes on, the girl who had carved out a space in his heart in such a short amount of time, who’d he’d never thought he’d have a chance with, waiting at home for him. For him, her father, and her best friends. He thought of his own family, his parents and his siblings too, but you’d crept right up in there with them at the forefront of his mind.

It was you he thought about as he frantically called out signals for Phoenix when they’d rounded coffin corner. It was the dread he felt of having to tell you that your father and the man you considered your brother were both most likely dead the second the remaining Daggar squad had landed back on the ship. Then, it was like a weight lifted off his shoulders the second they landed back in safety with the rest of the team in that beat of F-14, knowing he could keep his promise to you.

The second the team was back in the states and touching ground on land, you’d been waiting with tears in your eyes for all of them. Maverick’s arms were the first you flew into, your father holding you as tightly as humanly possible, before he let Bradley join in on the group hug too.

“Is the cry fest over here done?” Hangman had called out, the rest of the team joining you all as they smiled at the sight of you wrapped in a bear hug of two of your favorite men. Hangman held out his arms, wiggling his fingertips. “Can’t the rest of the team get hugs here, Sunflower?”

You had pushed your way out of the hug and in Hangman’s direction, but his smirk fell when you’d simply brushed past him and threw yourself into Bob’s arms, tugging his lips back to yours, craving the feeling you’d already become addicted to. Bob could feel his cheeks instantly flush with the heat of the public display of affection, of knowing who was watching, but it was worth it for that moment with you.

Jake, Reuben, Mickey, and Bradley’s jaws all collectively dropped as they watched the interaction before them, while Natasha only held a small smirk on her lips, knowing her suspicions were confirmed. The group had all turned back to Maverick, collectively fearing for Bob’s own safety. They may have been more shocked to see a genuine smile of pure affection and love on the fighter pilot's lips.

That night, surrounded by everyone you’d come to love so dearly in the Hard Deck over well-earned beers, Maverick had quickly bestowed his blessing on the pair of you.

“If she’s going to ignore my lifelong rule and date a Military man…I’m glad it’s you, Floyd,” Maverick had clapped a hand down on his student’s shoulder, giving him a pointed look. “Break her heart, though, and the push-ups are going from 200 to 300. Daily.”

Those moments all seemed like ages ago to you, when in reality they’d only been 10 months ago. They’d led to this moment now, as you stepped into the Hard Deck on a busy Wednesday night later than usual because of work, trying to spot your group of pilots in the distance. Thankfully for you, they’d all been assigned to stay at Top Gun for an extended period of time, still learning more and more from Maverick as Cyclone had determined there was much more his top students could learn. For you, that meant having your best friends around every single day.

“Sunflower! How nice of you to join us!” Natasha had called out with a laugh, handing you one of the beers she’d grabbed for you already. You happily took it, clinking the top of your bottle with her own.

“Phoenix, you’re a lifesaver for this,” you’d thanked her, tipping your head back to gulp the alcoholic beverage. “Work was insane today, for no good reason, too!”

“Your father had us doing 200 push-ups every time we failed the flight simulations today,” Fanboy cut in, walking past quickly as he rounded the pool table in front of you both. “Trust me, most of us would kill for your office job right about now. Bet it’s got air-conditioning.”

“Hey, you guys want to handle company-wide presentations, be my guest. I don’t mind passing that off,” you watched Payback and Fanboy’s pool match for a moment, turning back to Phoenix at your side. “Is my boy hiding around here somewhere? He didn’t answer my text earlier when I said I was on my way.”

“Oh, you mean dark and stormy?” you lifted an eyebrow at her words as Natasha let out a soft laugh. “Hangman was being extra…Hangman today, if you will. Really was digging in on him all day, could hear him grumbling from the backseat of the jet after every comment.”

“Let me guess, Jake is still on his ass even now, after hours?”

“Last I saw, he had him crowded in a booth with Bradley across the room,”

You clinked your bottle with hers one more time before turning on your heel.

“Guess that my queue to go save him!”

Bob Floyd was having the worst day of his life, and it was thanks to Hangman. Don’t get it twisted, he really did love Jake, he was one of his brothers after everything that had gone down on the Uranium mission. This job can bind you wth people for life, and it has for them. Today, though, Hangman was just being so…classic Hangman.

“No, seriously, I think if you’d just given me a little more time I could have had Sunflower wrapped around my finger instead,” Jake commented with a laugh, taking another sip of his beer as he shot a smirk across the table at Bob, seeing his friend’s grip on his own beer bottle tighten. “Oh come on, Baby-On-Board, lighten up! It’s just jokes! Though we’ve got to admit, her and I would be one gorgeous couple.”

“Yeah, so funny,” Bob mumbled to himself as Bradley gripped onto Hangman’s shoulder, shoving him out of the booth and promising Bob he’d go distract him for a bit up at the bar. The second they were gone, Bob was rubbing at his eyes under his glasses, frustration rolling off of him in waves.

He could deal with the Baby-On-Board comments all day long, the snide comments throw his way as he worked his way through Maverick’s 200 push-ups. Hell, he could deal with the four-eyes jokes too. Did they get on his nerves? Absolutely. Was he at his breaking point today? Also yes. What sent him over the edge every time, without fail, was jokes about you.

It didn’t matter that you’d been together almost a year, that you’d been the first one to utter ‘I love you’ to him at three in the morning as you’d laid together in his bed, his insecurities never really went away, they were just satiated for periods. It was when Jake chose to remind him that you were, in fact, way out of his league that they came crawling back to the surface.

“Now, what’s my handsome pilot doing over here all alone?”

It was your voice in his ear suddenly, hands winding around his shoulders and fingers digging into his muscles as you leaned over the back of the booth, hugging him to you. Normally, Bob would be like putty in your hands, falling back into your touch and your words as every ounce of stress left him simply because he was in your presence. Today, though, his shoulders stayed tense as Hangman’s constant jeers and jabs from the last few hours floated around his head.

“Regretting leaving my house,”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling the way Bob’s shoulders tensed up instead of relaxing into you, and slid your way around the bench so that you were sitting beside him. You craned your neck to try and get a look at his face, but Bob refused to look at you, the stress of the entire day on the verge of breaking over the surface.

“Come on, baby, what’s wrong-”

“Why don’t you ask Hangman?”

The question caught you absolutely off guard as you pulled away from your boyfriend slightly in confusion.

“Jake? The hell does he have to do with this?” when Bob didn’t answer you, you only continued. “Phoenix said he was giving you shit today, is that what this is about?”

“He thinks if you didn’t end up with me, you’d be with him. You’d be some perfect, gorgeous couple,”

“And what, you believe him?”

“I don’t hear you denying it,”

That was the moment that Bob decided to finally look at you, and he felt every ounce of frustration leave his body as he was racked with guilt and regret immediately.

“Wow. Okay, Bob,”

“No wait, baby-” he tried to place his hand on yours, but you’d already ducked out of the booth and stood beside it.

“No, you’ve made your point,” you refused to look at him now, and Bob close his eyes for a moment, knowing he’d fucked up. “I get it, Hangman can be a dick, but I chose you, Bob. If I wanted him, I’d have picked him, but I’ve only ever wanted you, and I chose you. I don’t care how much of a dick he was today, insinuating that isn’t cool.”

Bob knew you well enough to know that with the way you went storming out of the Hard Deck, chasing after you right now wouldn’t be the greatest idea in the world. It was at that moment that Jake and Bradley came back to the table, Jake whittling at the sight of you storming away.

“Ooooo, trouble in paradise?”

“For once, Hangman, please shut the fuck up,”

If you thought yesterday was a long day at work, nothing compared to the day after your disastrous Hard Deck night. You hadn’t texted Bob a single time, nor him you, even though you wanted to.

You let out another sigh to yourself as you stood at the copy machine in the office, rubbing at your under eyes. In hindsight, you felt that you had overreacted to the conversation last night, and you weren’t sure how to apologize to Bob for it. He’d had a long day, and so had you, and it simply had all culminated in that moment that anything could’ve set someone off.

“Hey,” you turned your head to see one of your coworkers, Jessica, standing at the doorway of the printer room you were in. She nodded her head in the direction of your office. “Someone is waiting in your office for you, by the way. Navy boy by the looks of it.”

You’d left the project on the printer in front of you, immediately walking back down the hallways in the direction of your office. You knew immediately who it was waiting for you, and it brought a small smile to your face as you turned through the door of the office.

Bob was standing directly by your desk with a small, almost timid smile, a bouquet of flowers in his hands as he took a step toward you, you taking one toward him as well.

“Hi,”

“Hi,” you answered, stepping up to him, just a foot away. You took a glance down, seeing him still decked out in his flight suit, straight from the base. “Aren’t you supposed to be on an F-18 right now?”

“Maverick was nice enough to give me the rest of the day off,” he commented, albeit sheepishly as he looked to the side for a moment. “After…the 300 or so push-ups he made me do.”

“Might be my fault there, he called me this morning once he got to base wanting to know about the ‘Hard Deck’ gossip that Rooster was talking about. Sorry,”

“You don’t have to apologize, I should be the one apologizing,”

You took the moment to glance down at the flowers in his hands, a smile growing. White tulips, a common symbol for apologies. Red roses, of course, representing love.

A single sunflower. The symbol of adoration and loyalty. You took the bouquet from him, inhaling the scent with a grin on your lips that he mirrored.

“They’re beautiful,”

“So are you,” Bob took the bouquet from you, placing it on top of the desk behind you both before taking your face in his hands. “I love you. You are, quite literally, the best thing that had ever happened to me, Sunflower. I shouldn’t have let him get in my head, and I shouldn’t have said what I did last night-”

“I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did,” you cut in, hands placed over the top of his own as you gazed up at him. “We were both frustrated, that’s all. You just have to remember that I chose you, because I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he’d simply responded. “I’ll always love you.”

Just like that day he’d shown up on your doorstep in those dress whites, words weren’t needed between you both to simply collide together in a passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of love’d felt for this man since the moment you’d met him into it.

[giuliannna]

girl give me some soft dom hamzah im starving

tonight is slow. soft, lazy touches. the kind that make you ache more for him than the rough stuff ever does.

hamzah’s lying back against the pillows, bare chest glowing warm under the low light. his hands rest on your hips as you straddle him, thighs trembling, his cock buried deep inside you. the stretch still makes you gasp, no matter how many times he’s been inside you before.

“that’s it,” he praises. “just like that. take your time.”

you press your hands to his chest, rolling your hips slowly, breathless at the way he fills you so perfectly. his hands roam up your sides, thumbs stroking softly over your skin.

“hamzah,” you whimper, half-desperate, half-pleading. your thighs already burn, your whole body heavy, worn out from the first orgasm he pulled from you not too long ago.

“i know,” he coos, sliding a hand up to cup your face. “you’re tired, huh?”

you nod, lower lip caught between your teeth, broken little noises escaping your throat.

“but you’re doin’ so good,” he whispers. “think you can give me one more?”

you shiver, heart skipping a few beats in your chest. “y-yeah. i’ll try,” you whisper, voice trembling.

“atta girl,” he breathes, pressing a soft kiss to your ribcage.

your thighs are shaking now, your muscles tight and trembling as you try to keep a rhythm. every little rock of your hips has you gasping, the pressure of him inside you overwhelming.

you slump forward, burying your forehead in the dip of his shoulder. his hands graze your lower back, slipping down to cup your ass and guide your movements when you falter. you whimper, fingers squeezing into his shoulders, eyes wired shut as you chase after pleasure.

“can’t- can’t, hamzah,” you pant.

“shh, i’ve got you,” he whispers. “you can. just a little more. i’ll help you.”

his hips lift from the bed, slow and steady, matching your pace, his cock stroking deep inside you. you sob his name, fingers digging into his skin almost painfully.

“fuck, that’s it,” he breathes, a groan slipping from his throat as your walls flutter around him.

he shifts under you, one hand slipping between your bodies, fingers sliding down to where you’re stretched around him. the moment he brushes the tips of his fingers against your clit, your whole body jolts, a gasp tearing from your throat.

“easy,” he soothes, voice low. “i got you.”

his fingers move in slow, steady circles, the light pressure making you squirm, your hips twitching. the overstimulation burns - but it’s swirled together with pleasure so sweet it makes your eyes roll back.

“hamzah - fuck, s’too much,” you moan, thighs trembling around him.

“i know, baby, i know,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw, his free hand tightening on your waist, keeping you grounded. “you can take it, just a little more. wanna see how pretty you cum for me.”

tension builds unbearably fast, your breath hitching with every slow drag of his hips, every stroke of his fingers. you bury your face in his neck, whining brokenly, your body trembling as the second orgasm crashes into you in an uncontrollable wave.

it’s a blinding, white-hot rush that tears through you, makes your eyes wire shut and your legs squeeze around his hips. you moan his name into his skin, hips bucking, your whole body clenching down on him so tight it drags a low groan from his chest.

“god, you’re so fuckin’ good for me. so perfect.” hamzah breathes out, holding you through the aftershocks.

you’ve gone nearly limp in his arms, gasping for air. he kisses softly along your shoulder, his hands stroking your back in slow, soothing strokes.

his fingers tangle gently in your hair, blunt nails scratching lightly at your scalp, making you melt deeper into him. “you did so good. took everything so well, huh?”

you let out a small ‘mhm’ in response, clinging to him, heartbeat pounding at his every word.

he shifts slightly, one hand trailing down to knead at your thighs, working the tension from the muscles he knows are aching. “so fuckin’ proud.”

a/n: i’ve been busy the past few days so i’m just gonna start clearing out my drafts until i can write again :,)

xoxo giulia

[feelfreetopleasemexo]

Boy talk

Boys discuss who they find attractive and Bakugo lets slip he thinks you’re slightly less irritating than the others, so denki just HAS to let you know

After a particularly strenuous training day, you head back to your dorm to flop on your bed and pass out, but as you walk towards the communal kitchen you hear denki, sero and katsuki all chatting. After denki let out a roar of laughter, you decide to linger back slightly to see what they were joking about. You cling to the wall and perk your ears up, trying to decipher their murmurs behind the shrieks of laughter.

“So, Bakugo, who’ve you got the hots for then?” Denki quizzes as he pushes katsukis arm playfully.

“Bakugo doesn’t notice girls man cmon!” Sero jokes, pushing denki away from him.

“Im not blind. I might not see those extras as worth my time, but I do notice them.” Stern, with no infliction, if he wasn’t screaming in someone’s face, he had a very stoic tone about his voice.

“Oh cmon man! You can’t say you haven’t looked at Momos boobs at least once right? Or Ochaco suit clinging to her ass? Damn even froppy’s ass is good…” Bakugo fires a blast at denkis head.

“Shut up. Of course I’ve noticed but I don’t really care about that, I just wanna make sure I’m the best. You can see boobs anywhere, it doesn’t phase me.” You can hear his footsteps walk towards you as he’s about to leave the kitchen, before sero gets his attention and he stops in his tracks.

“What about y/n? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her boobs NOT bounce when she walks. And when she uses her quick? Hell, I think I’d welcome her putting me to sleep if it meant I got to rest my head on the….” Before he can finish his sentence, he starts to squeal, Bakugo clearly blasted him.

“Don’t speak about her like this.” Bakugo growls, you can almost feel the heat from his crimson eyes staring into the guys. “She’s cool, leave her out of this.”

“Oooooooh someone’s got a crush! So you DO feel human emotions like the rest of us…..so, you like what y/ns got going on then hey man….” Denki teases, throwing a cup of water over sero to cool him down.

“Fuck off. I didn’t say I fancied her, I said she was cool. Grow up you extra.” You hear Bakugos footsteps continue to advance towards where you were hiding, you take a few steps back and then continue forward as if you were already walking this way, looking down at your phone as you bump into Bakugos chest abruptly.

“Shit sorry! Need to watch where im going….” You huff, flashing a smile at him as if you hadn’t just heard somewhat of a confession that he finds you slightly less irritating than the others.

“Watch where you’re going idiot!” He would usually blast anyone who touched him, accidental or not, but instead he put his arms on your shoulders forcing your arms tightly to your sides, picked you up and moved you out of his way. You glanced over to denki and sero laughing in the kitchen as he plonked you down and continued to walk away. As you started to walk towards your dorm, you hear denki shout for you,

“Yo! Y/N wait up! I’ve got something interesting to tell you.” As soon as you hear him excitedly shout this to you across the kitchen, you suddenly hear a massive explosion, and turn to see Bakugo stood by the door of the building, smoke encapsulating him. You can just about make out his life ending stare peak through the smoke veil, before hearing him mutter in a dark, low tone “Denki I swear to fucking god.”

Denki rushes to you, grabs your arm and pulls you alongside him to your dorm. As you’re both running, you can hear Bakugo take flight as he flies towards the both of you, cussing and shooting short flash bursts to up his speed. You reach your dorm and denki shoves you in, slams the door behind him and pushes himself up against the door, trying his best to be a blockade so Bakugo can’t explode the door down.

“He likes you! He freakin’ likes you man!” The excitement in his voice, only lessened by the worry that he’ll be killed for telling you this. Your cheeks flush pink as you stumble back and sit on your bed. The devil incarnated likes you? Surely not….

“Wait are you sure?! I didn’t think he liked anyone like that, didnt think he could….” Suddenly you’re interrupted as Bakugo kicks your door clean off his hinges, and denki becomes flattened by the frame. He steps over it as you hear denki screech from under Bakugos weight.

“So. You think I like you huh?” He stares down at you, the intensity makes you desperately want to look away, feeling like a kid being told off by their parents. You hold the intense eye contact,

“Denki was joking around that you liked me but I knew….” He interrupts you.

“Well, guess you know now. Meet me outside at 8. Wear something warm, I don’t wanna have to be your blanket all night.” He turns and leaves, leaving you godsmacked that not only did he admit that he did indeed like you, but he actually asked you out on a date…well, asked is a generous over assumption, it was more of an order.

As you stay sat, stunned at what just happened, sero comes running in and helps denki up,

“Did you do this?! I thought your quirk was a mist thing, i didnt think you could break your own damn door down!” He clambers to pick denki up, who seemed winded but otherwise fine.

“No no, it was Bakugo….i told y/n he likes her and he nearly killed me, but…..he then asked her out on a date!” The confusion between the three of us could’ve been cut with a knife, all staring between each other, then sero let out a slight laugh,

“Guess he really is a guy.”

[skibasyndrome]

Hi! I can’t get over how much I love your wilmon fics/ficlets and your writing style.

I’d love to read what you come up with for smut prompt - 44. “keep going”

gaaaaaaahhhh, anon you are so sweet!!! thank you so much for your kind words, I'm so glad you like them!!! 💜💜💜 and thank you for this prompt! since yesterday's ficlet got a little long I'm gonna try to keep this one shorter. alsooo, since I have no sunday snippet to post because I've only been writing these prompt fills, take this as my sunday not-snippet.

cw: nsfw, Wille being very dramatic about having missed Simon <3 maybe Simon is also a little dramatic

When Wille shifts on his knees, changes the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly, Simon tightens his grip on Wille's hair. Pulling hard enough to drag a broken groan out of him.

"Sorry... 's just," Simon lets out a short, strained giggle, then immediately stops when Wille carefully pulls back and pushes forward again. Simon's eyes fall closed, jaw slacker than before. "Yea- yeah." Simon sounds so utterly breathless when he lets go of Wille's hair, looks like a vision spread out on the bed, head thrown back and Adam's apple bobbing with every strained inhale. Wille has to remind himself to move, too busy staring and watching and taking it all in. "You can," he says, proud when he can keep his voice from wavering, even when he's feeling warm and tight and Simon and an overwhelm that's so welcome he'd love nothing more than to stop thinking. "Pull, I mean," he adds, moving lower, almost chest to chest, Simon's enticing body heat just centimeters from him, "pull my hair. You can." Simon doesn't open his eyes again when he nods, just lets his hands find their way back, over Wille's shoulder, fuck, brushing his neck, then, finally, tugging again. Wille has missed this, fuck, he's missed this so much. Can't believe he had to go four awful, awful weeks of family holiday without this, without Simon, without having him, like this, or any way, really, without... Wille's body is ablaze with the heat of again and more and never stop. He hums happily when Simon pulls a little more sharply, tries to sink even deeper into Simon, tries to get closer when he knows he can't. Simon's moan, Simon digging his heel into the back of Wille's thigh, oh, Wille can never get enough of this. "Missed this," he gasps out, slowly, carefully picking up speed again. Trying not to let the urgency get the best of him, trying to drag out the moment, trying to make this last, get the most out of this. It's been so long, he needs to savor the sensation, he needs to drink up every moment he gets to feel Simon so... completely. So close his heart is beating heavily with the weight of it. Simon's fingers are rubbing circles into Wille's scalp, Simon's kiss-bitten lips are twisting into a smile. He nods again. "Me too," he says, then breaks off into a moan when Wille tries and- yeah, just where Simon wants him. One of Simon's hands slide down, along Wille's sweaty skin, to the small of his back. He pulls, tugs Wille closer, closer, closer yet, needing-, just like Wille, needing more when there is no more. Another thrust, another mess of sounds mingling between them, and Simon is digging blunt fingernails into Wille's skin. His mouth forms an 'o', so kissable, so breathtakingly beautiful, so close and real and wonderful that Wille can't help but move his arms. Elbows dragging on the fabric of the sheets, he moves until he can get his hands on Simon's face, his thumbs tracing the sharp lines of it. Cheekbones, nose, jawline, moving gorgeously with every breath, with every groan, with every time Wille sinks into him, again and again.

Wille thinks he's going to lose his mind like this, feels like a man lost in the desert hallucinating his salvation. It's- too much. Always is, but especially when they haven't had this in a while, whenever they've had nothing but rushed phone calls and desperate text messages to tide them over. The real thing, the push and pull, the tugging each other close, the kissing until their lips are sore, the gasps and pleas felt against his skin - it all feels too good all at once, too- Simon's legs twitch where they're wound around Wille, he pulls at Wille's hair again. "Fuck," Simon lets out, quiet and gorgeous and Wille feels feral from it, feels the need gnawing at him harder now, the need to get him there, to make him fall apart, to- Wille halts, freezes in place when Simon's hands fly up to Wille's shoulder blades, scratching, pulling. Wille moans helplessly when Simon's body tightens around him, needs a tiny moment before he realizes, then doubles down, fucking Simon through it, nearly losing his footing when, in between a whine and a gasp, he hears his own name. Simon comes, sticky, warm, untouched, between them, knocking the breath right out of Wille. This is, he is... Wille is forced to stay still, thighs and arms burning like there's an army of ants marching through his veins, while he stares at Simon, chest heaving, face twitching, slowly, slowly, slowly coming down from his orgasm. It's almost torture, a torture he'd endure again and again and again every day, but still. When Simon lets out a long breath, blinking and laughing at the end of it, Wille is relieved, relieved that now he gets to pull out and cuddle up to Simon and use his hand to- Simon's grip on his back tightens when he tries to inch away, tries to raise his hips. At once, his eyes move up to Simon's face, meet Simon already staring back. Wille licks his lips. His mouth suddenly feels dry with Simon gazing up at him so intensely. "I'm..." Wille looks down between them, the mess on their stomachs, Simon's spent cock, lower where he's still... He swallows hard. Simon's fingers are drawing patterns into his skin, and suddenly the ants are poking him there, where Simon's hands are warm and heavy on him. "Keep going." Simon's voice is so quiet that Wille barely hears it. Wille whips his head up again, brows furrowed, but he doesn't need to ask when Simon stares up at him, through him almost with nothing but liquid heat in his eyes. They... it's never like this. It's never this way around. It's him coming first, Simon following not far behind, or it's Wille pulling out when Simon is done, when his skin tingles under every single one of Wille's touches post-orgasm, when anything else would be too much. They never... Wille has never stayed afterwards. But, now, Wille sees his own desperation, his own need reflected on Simon's face, like this hasn't been enough. "Need you to," Simon says, and Wille's arms damn near buckle. As if that's not enough, Simon cranes his neck, pulls with all he's got, and sighs into Wille's mouth when they're finally kissing again, after what seems like ages. Wille's hips jerk when their tongues brush, and they both moan into the kiss. The tightening of Simon's legs around his middle is unmistakable. So is the way Simon tries to meet his tiny movements, trying to raise his hips where he's pinned under Wille's weight. Wille isn't going to make it out of this alive. But he can't ask, can't even wonder, all he can do is slowly sink back into the rhythm that pulls him into Simon, slow and deep and dirty and breathtaking. He gaps against Simon's lips, feels a dangerous tug behind his navel, the telltale tightening of that knot deep inside.

"Simon-," he gasps, trying to raise his body up, trying to regain a position that lets him go faster. "Gonna-" Simon cuts him off, drags a hand down the middle of his chest, palm against his skin. "Please," Simon pleads, encourages, and Wille's hips stutter. "Missed this," he confesses, and oh. Yes. Yes yes yes, so did Wille. Does he mean- Wille's pulse is raising, thoughts getting away from him. "Missed you inside," Simon says, and Wille whines. "Missed the feeling," he's interrupted by a strained moan that sends a violent tingle through Wille's body, scalp to toes, "-of this." Simon pushes back against Wille's thrusts, beautiful and needy and like he's trying to make Wille lose his mind. "Need you to," another gasp, "in me." Like his breath is being dragged right from his lungs, Wille is coming. It's white, hot, fuzzy, so so so so heavy and, oh- he sinks down against Simon's chest, into his arms. Slowly, with his breath returning to him, the fog lifting, he feels Simon's hands stroking his back, Simon's legs still tightly clamped around him. And with the reality of it all sinking in, with the feeling of being so close, still, he feels a warm tingle in his cheeks. "Shit," he laughs, and nuzzles his nose into the crook of Simon's neck, where he smells the most like him. Simon follows along, lets out a breathy chuckle. His arms don't move, neither do his legs. Still holding on tight. "Mmmh," he hums happily. Wille simply has to kiss the fluttering skin of his neck. When Wille shifts a little, he feels wet stickiness between their bodies. And, with a pleasant shiver running down his back, past Simon's caressing palms, he feels that Simon is hard again.

Feel free to send me some prompts from that list, or just make some up <3 Or read my other ficlets here

also pls let me know what you think <3

[inwithrin]

ᓚ₍⑅^..^₎♡ abby buys you a drink

you’ve been so stressed lately that when your friends suggested going out, you barely hesitated before saying yes. at the bar, you’re not drunk, just warm in the face and life seems good now.

your friends are scattered—two in the bathroom, one batting her eyelashes at a man to get free drinks, the rest at your table giggling and dancing. one of them said something like, “we should go together,” but you were already halfway to the bar, so you just waved her off.

you weren’t trying to make a scene. you were only trying to get another drink, but you didn’t see her until it was too late, you turned a little too fast, stumbled a step, and—thud.

you collide, chest to chest, with someone. if it were a guy, you’d roll your eyes, maybe mumble "sorry," and move on. but it’s not. it’s a girl. a tall, broad-shouldered girl, clawed in a black t-shirt that clings to her muscles and a jacket atop, her dirty-blonde hair pulled back. she’s beautiful in a way that makes your brain shut off for a moment as her strong hands catch your arms to steady you.

you pull back fast. "shit, i’m sorry—i’m so sorry," you stammer, trying to recoil from the embarrassment. 

but her hands stay firm on your arms. “hey,” she says, kind and patient, like she’s used to dealing with idiots. “you okay?”

her voice goes right through you. you blink up at her, mortified. “yeah, i’m okay—sorry,” again, you try to take a step back but trip a little over your own feet—dignity thoroughly obliterated.

she moves without hesitation, steadying you like you're hers to catch. “slow down, there’s no rush,” she says, almost amused, “i got you.”

you can smell her cologne. her hands are still on your arms. you’re practically sober now, and yet somehow your brain is even more useless. you want to melt. you want to scream. you want to time-travel five minutes into the past to save you from this. but you’re here, held in the hands of the hottest woman you’ve ever seen—who is looking at you with curious eyes.

she guides you gently toward the bar. “you sure you don’t need to sit down?” she asks, a hint of an amused grin tugging at her mouth. you shake your head—but she raises a hand, gesturing to the bartender with confidence. “a whiskey, on the rocks. please,” she says, glancing down at you. “and whatever pretty wants.”

whatever pretty wants. as in—you. you’re pretty. she said it like a name.

“a strawberry mojito, please,” you manage to mumble. it was something safe and familiar.

the bartender nods and starts on both drinks. when you look back at her, she’s already watching you. openly. leaning on the bar like she has all the time in the world. like she enjoys how stupidly flustered you are.

“my name’s abby,” she says, and it sounds so good in her voice—but maybe better in yours. she holds your gaze. “you got one, or should i keep calling you pretty?”

you forget how to breathe. you’re sure your friends are watching. you’re sure your soul just left your body. “i—” you try, and fail, and try again, finally mumbling out your name. you cover your face with both hands. “sorry—”

she chuckles, leaning in enough that her shoulder brushes yours. “relax,” she murmurs, clearly enjoying this. “you already fell for me once tonight.”

abby slides your drink in front of you and leans in just a little closer, you feel your heart race all over again. 

her voice is softer now, more sincere somehow, and it sends a shiver straight down your spine. “so, pretty—i’m going to be forward,” she says, the nickname rolling off her tongue easily. “how about you give me your number, hm?”

your breath catches, and your mind is a scrambled mess of thoughts, none of them helpful. but she’s looking at you like you’re the only person in the room. you fumble as you grab your phone, your hands shaking a little, but she’s quick to help you, guiding your hand with an ease that makes your heart flutter. 

before you can even open your contacts, she’s already offering you her jacket—thinking you were cold. “it’s cold, right?” she says, voice unhurried. her hands are gentle as she drapes it over your shoulders. “take this.”

you blink at her, as you give her your phone. you fix the jacket over your body as she types. she rings her phone from yours, the little jingle of her now added contact lighting up your screen.

“there,” she says, giving you your phone back. “now we both have it, see? easy.”

you can’t stop staring at her. at how she holds herself with such quiet confidence. “thank you,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath.

abby gives you a small, knowing smile, like she’s pleased with how easily you let her in. she takes a step back, her gaze sweeping over you as you grab your drink from the counter, taking a big sip.

“i’ll buy you the next one,” you say, your voice a little firmer now. “for being such a mess earlier.”

abby raises an eyebrow, she mimics you by taking a slow sip of her whiskey, like she’s savoring the moment, or you. she shakes her head, her hand reaching out to touch your wrist.

“no,” she mutters. “it’s my pleasure, pretty. you’ve already given me your time, and it’s not often i get the chance to do something nice for someone like you.”

and just like that, she’s completely disarmed you. you want to protest, want to say something in return, but the way she looks at you makes you too charmed to argue. 

“okay,” you whisper, a little breathless. “next time, it’s on me.”

abby nods. “next time,” she repeats.

[badslittlemuffin]

hii, I have a request for you :)

shoto x reader with atla quirk

thank u for the request!!

i took the initiative and decided airbender MWAHAHAH i honestly haven't read many shoto fics so i'm sorry if this is ooc</3

shoto x airquirk!reader, oblivious shoto, reader is utterly fed up, ooc shoot sorry, horrible quirk writing!! cringe yearning

wc: 780

Shoto was, by no means, an expert when it came to social cues.

He knew that, and came to live with being utterly confused when anybody hinted at something towards him. So, when you started to act a bit more... touchy? He had absolutely no idea. At first, you found it a little silly how oblivious he was at times, but now, you were just annoyed.

You and Shoto were in the middle of some training/sparring, as you had suggested earlier that day. At the moment, however, he was helping you with your quirk. Unlike him, you had never gotten such training when it came to your quirk when you were younger. In fact, it had been somewhat discouraged in your home. So, Shoto, being ever so kind, was helping you with controlling larger and quicker winds.

He stood to the side of you, large flames erupting from his left side as he instructed you to try to put out the flames using your wind. You stood for a moment, building up as much force as you could, and forcing the current of air to explode—but only managing to set out a small portion of his fire.

You groan in annoyance, flopping dramatically onto the floor. His duel-colored eyes widen in concern, and he rushes over to you, dropping to his knees. "Are you alright?" His voice is deep and steady. You nod, a small snort escaping your lips. "Yeah, just... frustrated that no matter how hard I try, I just can't get enough wind to listen to me." You run your sweaty hands through your hair, irritation evident on your face.

His expression morphs into one of understanding as he moves to sit beside you. It's quiet for a moment, his eyes staring at a wall, presumably in deep thought. "You think of the wind as if it's something that cannot move on its own, that you need to control its every move," he says, his gaze moving to you. "But air and the wind move on their own. You are simply its guidance."

You soak in his words for a moment, glancing up at him. He smiles gently, moving to stand. "Would you like to try again?" You nod, taking his outstretched hand. He moves back to where he stood previously, flames erupting from his side once more.

You close your eyes, concentrating on the movement of the air surrounding you. Gradually, you begin to accelerate the currents of the wind, visualizing a path narrowing as the air rushes forward, extinguishing his fire. Shoto turns to you, a rare grin spreading across his lips. "See?"

You grin, nodding. His right side starts to frost up, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Want to try with my ice?" You feign exasperation, before nodding. A thin wall of ice bursts from his side, and you concentrate, attempting to follow your same movements from earlier but only managing to break off some of the thinnest parts at the top.

Shoto notices your struggle, walking up beside you. He places his hand on your waist, his body so close you can feel his hot breath on your skin. "Relax...you're thinking too much about it..." He mumbles, his voice low, sending a small shiver down your spine. Did he realize how...intimate this was? Or was he that oblivious?

You attempt once more, but it proves difficult to concentrate with the closeness of his body. The air you manage to control this time is much weaker, and he notices. "What's wrong?" He asks, a hint of concern in his voice. You take a deep, stuttering breath, your eyes darting up to his. He was so close.

His gaze is warm, his touch gentle. Your focus is suddenly trained on him alone. "I..." Words die in your throat before you can even think to utter them. His breath felt closer now. You reddened at the closeness, and he noticed. You saw the hint of a smirk tug at his lips, which only made you blush harder, the tips of your ears feeling hot.

Before you can think of something to say, his lips are on yours. Your eyes slam shut, your body melting into his touch, hands on his shoulders. The kiss is uncertain, and oh so gentle. His whole body is warm, you realize, your body tingling at the sensation of it all.

He pulls away slowly, his bright eyes fluttering open. "Sorry, I should have asked first..." He mumbles, his face red. You snort, "It's okay...trust me." He smiles nervously.

So maybe he was a little oblivious, but he got it eventually. That was all you could ask for.

i lowkey didnt know what to do with this but I hope you like it anyway :')

[boopiemadz]

[Its hard to be forgotten] Travis X Reader

wanted to write a little hurt/ comfort. so here it is :) again i dont like writing warnings but just dont read if sensitive ig.

also shout out to my beautiful moots who make me feel so appreciated and loved <3

---

Travis’s head is pounding as he stumbles through the wreckage of the plane, the debris is everywhere, twisted metal and shattered glass creating an impossible maze. He calls out, his voice hoarse, panic rising in his chest.

“Y/N?” His breath catches in his throat as his eyes dart around, frantic, scanning the wreckage. “Where are you?”

He sees a figure, lying motionless beneath the twisted metal. His heart stops, dread sinking like a stone in his gut.

“No…” He hisses under his breath, rushing forward with a force he didn’t know he had in him.

There you are, crumpled on the ground, barely breathing. Blood stains your clothes, your face pale, eyes closed. Your body is surrounded by wreckage, your hand barely twitching, as if trying to reach out, but too weak to move.

Travis’s hands shake as he kneels beside you, gently touching your face, his fingers brushing through your hair.

“No… no, no, no,” he breathes, his voice shaky and full of desperation. “Please… stay with me.”

He cradles your head in his hands, feeling the warmth of your skin, the faint pulse beneath his fingers. But it's weak. Too weak.

“Please,” he whispers again, leaning down, his breath shaky against your ear. “You can’t… not now. Please.”

He hears movement behind him, Misty and Natalie rushing toward him, shouting at him to move, but all Travis can do is focus on you. “Travis, we need to go,” Nat calls urgently, her voice trembling. “We need to get out of here, now.”

“She’s still alive,” he manages to say, his voice a broken rasp. “I’m not leaving her. We can’t… we can’t just leave her here.”

He cradles your body against his chest, his arms shaking as he holds you close, willing himself to stay calm. He has to keep it together. For you.

They move, slowly, stumbling through the wreckage, the air is thick with the smoke and the scent of burning wreckage, and the sounds of distant cries fill the air.

---

A week passes, though the crash feels like it happened only moments ago, every day, they move further away from the crash site, hoping to find some kind of shelter, some kind of safety. You haven’t woken up. Not since they found you.

It’s a constant weight on his chest, a suffocating feeling that never leaves him. Now, every time he looks at you, lying unconscious, his heart aches. His hands tremble as he checks for your pulse, making sure it’s still there, still steady, still fighting.

And it is. Barely.

He doesn’t know if it’s enough. He doesn’t know if you’re going to make it.

He doesn’t know if he’ll ever hear your voice again.

---

By the time they found a cabin, Travis had stopped counting the days. All he knows is that it’s been long enough for everyone else to lose hope. But not him. He can’t.

He carries you into the cabin with trembling arms, gently laying you down on the floor. The others are asleep, exhausted from the journey. But Travis is wide awake, sitting by your side, eyes fixed on your face, praying for some sign of life, anything to show that you’re still in there.

He doesn’t know what he’s hoping for, maybe a twitch, maybe a breath, maybe the sound of your voice. Something to make him believe that you’ll be okay. That you’re still here.

“Come back to me,” he whispers brokenly, running a hand through your hair. “I need you. Please.”

---

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was the searing headache that throbbed in time with your heartbeat. You tried to sit up, but the world spun around you, and you were forced to lie back down with a groan, blinking into the dim, shadowed room you were in.

You didn’t remember how you got here. You didn’t remember anything.

Your thoughts were scattered, trying to make sense of what was happening, but nothing seemed to fit. Your eyes adjusted to the low light, and you saw several familiar faces in the room. Akilah, stood from the group and moved toward you. Her eyes were tired. She knelt beside you, careful not to startle you.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" She asked gently, though her voice was shaky.

You didn’t answer immediately. You didn’t know how to. The words felt foreign in your mouth. You tried to remember everything, about where you were, but the more you tried, the more you realized... there was a hole where your memories should be.

“I... I don’t remember,” you whispered, swallowing thickly. “What happened?”

Akilah’s expression faltered for a moment, then she sighed softly. “You were in the crash. You’ve been unconscious for a while.”

“The crash?” you repeated, your heart beginning to race. “What crash? Where am I?”

"You're in the cabin," Akilah explained, voice still soft but laced with a tension you couldn’t place. "We found it a few days ago. After the plane went down."

The plane crash. It all sounded so unreal, like it was someone else’s nightmare, not yours. You tried to focus, but it was like your brain refused to cooperate, the details of everything lost in the fog.

"You don’t remember anything about the crash?" You shook your head slowly, confusion spreading like a cold sweat across your skin. "No... I don’t remember anything. Just... waking up here."

Her face twisted in concern. She looked over at the others, who were all watching you with unreadable expressions. “Well... we’ll explain more when you’re ready, but you don’t remember the crash, or boarding the plane, or anything?”

You stared at her blankly. The mention of boarding a plane meant nothing to you. "Where were we going? What plane?"

Mari then shifted uncomfortably and spoke up, “We were on our way to Nationals.”

The conversation left you reeling. You could sense something important was missing from your memory, but it felt unreachable, like a door locked inside your mind.

---

-Before the Crash-

Before the crash, you and Travis had shared a history. It wasn’t a great history, but it was a history nonetheless. There was something about his presence that made you angry and amused all at once. It frustrated you, but it also made you laugh when he wasn’t being too much of a jerk. You’d never thought about it too deeply. Subtle shifts in how things changed between you, those awkward moments when your laughter lingered longer than it should have, those brief moments when you actually appreciated his humor instead of resenting it.

The gym was full of noise, students running around, setting up decorations, and the usual chaos that came with school events. You were in the decorating committee, it was a mix of tinsel, twinkling lights, and awkward conversations.

Travis stood off to the side, arms crossed, not exactly participating but also not making an effort to leave. He’d been forced into this because of detention. "You're standing there like a tree, you know," you said as you passed by, eyeing him. "Maybe you could do something useful."

Travis looked up from his spot against the wall. "I am being useful. Someone has to make sure you don't screw everything up."

The final touch of the night involved hanging the last of the streamers along the back wall, the place you’d both been assigned to decorate. The others had all left, and it was down to the two of you. You were already tired of this whole thing, irritated that you hadn’t been able to escape earlier, and frustrated that it felt like Travis was deliberately trying to make everything harder for you.

You were struggling with the roll of ribbon, untangling it when it slipped from your fingers and fell to the floor. You bent down to grab it just as Travis walked over, apparently trying to help, though, knowing him, it was probably just a half-hearted attempt.

"Here," he muttered, reaching for the ribbon at the same time. You looked up at him, a little taken aback by the fact that he was actually being helpful. "Thanks," you said, trying to keep the sarcasm in check. "Not that you needed to do that. I’ve got it."

He shrugged but didn’t back off. There was an awkward pause between you two, neither of you quite sure what to say.

The lights dimmed a little as you both stood there, staring at the ribbon in silence. You caught yourself glancing at him. The way his hair fell in his eyes. The soft expression on his face that he usually hid behind the snark.

You looked away quickly, clearing your throat. "Well, we’re almost done. I’m sure you’re happy to be done with this."

"Yeah," he muttered, and for a second, you both just stood there, close, awkward.

Before you could stop yourself, you muttered, “It’s not so bad.” You didn’t expect it, but when you looked up, you found that you were both standing too close, the air between you thick with something unspoken.

You stepped back, trying to pull yourself out of the moment, but it was too late. Travis’s gaze flickered to your lips and, without thinking, he leaned in. It wasn’t aggressive. It wasn’t sudden. It just happened, a brief, hesitant kiss, a brush of lips, soft and surprising.

You froze, your mind not entirely sure what had just happened. Travis pulled back just as quickly, his face redder than you'd ever seen it, his usual scowl replaced with something unfamiliar. "Uh... Sorry. I…I didn’t…"

You shook your head quickly, too flustered to form a real sentence. “No, it’s fine. I just... didn’t expect that.”

Travis looked at you, brows furrowed. “Me neither.”

The awkwardness between you two didn’t fade immediately. You both turned away, trying to pretend like nothing had happened. But the truth was, something had changed. Neither of you knew what it was exactly, but it was there, lingering in the quiet space between you.

The days after the kiss were strange. It was gradual, like a new rhythm you couldn’t quite ignore. Every now and then, you’d catch him glancing at you in a way that wasn’t quite normal, or you’d find yourself just a little more aware of him than before. The sarcastic comments didn’t go away, but they started to feel different, softer.

And then, one afternoon, you found yourself standing next to him by the lockers, both of you silently waiting for the bell to ring. You felt that familiar tension, but this time, instead of running from it, you leaned into it.

“So...” you began, unsure of how to break the silence. “Are we...I mean we cant just keep insulting each other after…”

Travis looked over at you, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. “I could.” He pauses. “But no.. um… maybe we could go on a date.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t fight the small smile that tugged at your lips. “Great. Because Id love that. But you’re still an idiot.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, “you’re still annoying.”

And that was that. It wasn’t a big moment. There was no dramatic confession. It was just the start of something new, something quiet and simple. 

---

The fire crackled low when Travis stepped inside, blinking against the dim light. The air in the cabin felt charged, tense in a way he couldn’t place.

He dropped the game he’d brought in, two squirrels, not bad for a quick afternoon, and glanced around. Van and Akilah sat by the fire. Lottie was whispering to Shauna.

He saw Misty crouched by the far corner.

The corner where you'd been for days. Still. Silent. Unmoving.

Until now.

Misty looked up. “She’s awake.”

That one sentence knocked the breath out of him.

Travis stepped toward you before he realized he was even moving. You were sitting up, propped against a bundled-up sweatshirt, eyes half-lidded and scanning the room with an exhausted kind of wariness. Pale. Still too thin. But alive. Awake.

He crouched beside you. “Hey…”

You looked at him like he’d just stepped in mud and tracked it across your mom’s white carpet.

“Travis,” you said, flatly, "Your eyes scanned him up and down. “You smell like actual death.”

Travis blinked. “I just got back from hunting…”

“Well, you also look like you fought a tree and lost,” you muttered, then turned your head away like you couldn’t be bothered. He stared at you, unsure whether he should be relieved or… insulted. “Are you… okay?”

You shrugged, lips tight. “Still alive, I guess.”

You were glaring at him like it was weeks before the trip again, like every time you saw him in the hallway was just another opportunity to insult him for being a dick during chemistry lab.

Behind him, he barely registered Lottie’s quiet murmur to Misty, “She hasn’t asked about him at all.”

---

Three weeks later Travis was sitting against a log, his elbows braced against his knees, hands dug into his hair. The sky was starting to dim, sun bleeding behind the trees. He was trying not to cry. Trying and failing.

You hadn’t looked at him like you cared since the moment you woke up.

Every time he tried to check on you, to help you gather water, to sit near you when you were shivering during the night, you pushed him away. Not with your hands, but with comments and narrowed eyes. That look of annoyance, of distance.

Like he was just Travis. Just the guy you used to argue with. Not the guy who kissed you under the bleachers. Not the guy who walked you home everyday after school. Not the guy who loved you.

She hates me now. She blames me for something. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe it was nothing to her.

He let out a sound, a bitter, quiet laugh, and kicked at the dirt.

---

You were sitting beside the dwindling fire, quietly ripping pages out of books to make more kindling. Your hands moved automatically, but your mind wasn’t focused.

Everything had felt… wrong. Off. Ever since you woke up.

The others had explained what happened, mostly. That there’d been a crash, that you were unconscious, that it had been weeks since then. But no one had said anything beyond that.

And Travis?

Why was he acting so weird?

Why did he keep looking at you like you’d punched him in the gut? Why did his voice soften around you, like you were made of glass? Why did the girls keep glancing between you two when you snapped at him?

He wasn’t your friend. You were never close. He was sarcastic and cold and kind of a dick. You used to throw insults back and forth in class like dodgeballs. But now… now it was like he expected something.

Tai sat down beside you quietly, brushing her hands off on her pants.

“You okay?” she asked, not pushing.

You hesitated. “Not really.” She nodded like she understood. You stared into the fire. “What day is it?” Tai gave you a small shrug. “We stopped counting exactly after the crash… but it’s been like a month.”

“I don’t remember it,” you said softly. “I don’t remember getting on the plane. Or anything since… like March.” She turned to look at you. “March?”

“Yeah. Last I remember, Nationals were two months away. I wasn’t even packed yet.”

She went still. “…What?” you asked.

She blinked, trying to piece it together. “That’s… that’s more than just the crash.”

“I figured I must’ve hit my head,” you muttered. “They said I was out cold when we landed. Guess that’s what scrambled me.”

Tai opened her mouth. Closed it again. Then spoke gently.

“No one knew that. I don’t think you told anyone how far it went back.” Then Tai’s face dropped, like she realized something.

You looked at her, cautious. “What? What is it?” She exhaled. “You and Travis… you started dating. Before the trip.”

You stared at her.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not,” She said. “He was different with you. You were always with him, even when he was being moody and… well, Travis. You were good together.”

You looked down, heart slamming in your chest. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“I know,” she said gently. “But he does.”

You swallowed. No wonder he looked heartbroken every time you brushed him off. No wonder everyone acted like you were being cruel, and he couldn’t figure out why. You hadn’t just forgotten the crash.

You’d forgotten him.

---

The sun was starting to dip, casting long gold shadows over the edge of the forest. You weren’t even sure why your feet had led you outside. But when you spotted Travis, alone, pacing near the edge of the trees, something in your chest twisted. You stepped off the porch quietly.

He hadn’t seen you yet. He was dragging the toe of his boot in the dirt, jaw clenched. You stood there awkwardly until he turned, mid-step, and spotted you. His eyes narrowed.

“You following me or something?” You folded your arms across your chest. “No. I just… I wanted to talk.”

Travis laughed, but there was no humor in it, just bitterness. “Oh, now you want to talk?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He scoffed. “Are you serious? You’ve been avoiding me since you woke up. Like I kicked your dog or something. And you act like I’m the crazy one?”

“I haven’t…” You stopped yourself, shoulders tensing. “I didn’t know I was.”

“Right,” he muttered. “You’ve just been giving me the cold shoulder and snapping at me for fun, I guess?” You took a step forward. “I didn’t mean to, okay? I didn’t even know you cared. Before the crash, we barely talked, and when we did, it was mostly sarcasm and side-eyes. You weren’t exactly Mr. Friendly.”

Travis blinked. “What are you talking about? We…” He cut himself off, face twisting slightly. “Wait… what do you remember?”

You looked away.

“I remember school. The team. Nationals being a couple months away. I remember thinking you were just that quiet, rude guy who made smartass comments.” You met his gaze again. “I don’t remember anything past that. I didn’t even know we were on the plane until I woke up here.”

Travis took a step back like you’d shoved him.

His lips parted, but he didn’t speak right away. His eyes searched yours, confused, almost desperate.

“You… you don’t remember?” You shook your head. “Not the crash. Not the flight. Not the days after. Nothing. Just black.” His mouth opened again. Then shut. He scrubbed his hands down his face.

“I thought you hated me,” he said quietly. “I thought you woke up and decided I wasn’t worth it anymore.” You frowned.“Because you wouldn’t even look at me,” he said, and his voice cracked a little. “Every time I tried to talk to you, you flinched. You shut down. I thought… I thought you regretted us.”

Your voice was quiet. “So we were really…? What Tai told me?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, your arms tightening around yourself. You felt so exposed suddenly, raw. Travis gave a helpless shrug. “I didn’t know you forgot that far back. I just… I couldn’t figure out why it felt like I lost you twice.”

You inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are,” he said. “It’s just…” He trailed off and looked away, his jaw clenching. “It sucked,” he muttered. The air between you went quiet for a long moment. Neither of you moved.

Then he said, “We weren’t perfect or anything. We still argued. You still called me an asshole, like, weekly. But it was different. You didn’t really mean it.” You almost laughed, but your throat was too tight. “Eh, pretty sure I meant it.”

Travis cracked a tired smile. “There she is.” You let your eyes meet his.

He didn’t look like the Travis you remembered from school. That Travis had been standoffish, always lurking at the edge of the hallway like the world annoyed him.

This Travis was still guarded, but his face was open now. Vulnerable. Like he wanted to reach for you, but didn’t know if you’d disappear if he tried.

“What were we like?” you asked, your voice soft. He hesitated, then took a tentative step closer.

“You were annoying,” he said. “But kind of brilliant. You made fun of me every time I said something dumb, but you also stayed up with me the night my dad got too drunk and smashed up the living room.”

You swallowed hard. “You stole that stupid hat from the gas station and made me wear it backwards for a week,” he added, lips twitching at the memory. “Said it made me look like a high school dropout.”

You laughed, just a little. You were quiet again.

And then, after a long beat: “I don’t remember any of that. But… something about it feels like it happened.” Travis’s breath hitched. “That’s something, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

He was close now. Close enough that your shoulder could brush his if either of you moved even slightly. And when he looked at you, there was this pain in his eyes, this ache, but also relief. Like all the pieces finally made sense, even if they still hurt.

“I missed you,” he said softly. “Even if you didn’t mean to leave.”

You looked up at him. Your heart was pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it.

And somehow, without thinking, your hand moved, just barely brushing against his. You didn’t grab it. You didn’t force anything. But it was enough.

Travis turned his hand so your fingers could slide between his. He waited. Watching you. Letting you decide. And slowly, gently, you leaned forward.

His breath caught when your lips met his, soft, hesitant, unsure.

But familiar.

His hand cupped your cheek instinctively, like muscle memory, like home. The kiss wasn’t perfect. It was slow and a little awkward. A little tense. A little heartbreaking. But it was real.

And this time, even if the memories hadn’t come back, you had.

And that was enough.

---

sorry if this was poop from a butt...

hope u enjoyed :)

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 23

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,235ish

Summary: The team rushes to rescue Tony.

Warning(s): talk of rape, talk of abuse, torture, death, mental health, violence

Note(s): MAKE SURE YOU'VE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS! This is my third update in the last 24 hours. So make sure you haven't missed anything before you read!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

Rhodey sighed as he watched Happy’s lifeless body get rolled away. He stood on the sidewalk outside of the therapist office, unable to wrap his mind around it all.

“Obadiah knew he couldn’t attack the house,” Natasha said. She was sitting on the curb. Yelena and Bucky were close by getting stitched up. “It didn’t have enough people to do that again… He’s been watching us… watching her.”

“Steve said he got her to the penthouse,” Rhodey stated. “She’s safe.”

“For now,” added Yelena. “We need to end this.”

“We will. But we can’t do anything that could put Tony’s life in danger.”

~~~

The penthouse wasn’t home. It felt cold. You felt trapped. You were curled up on the leather couch in the living room. Your knees were tucked to your chest and Steve had carefully thrown a blanket over your shoulders. Rhodey, Peggy, Natasha, Bucky, and Yelena joined you and Steve there, but you didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge them. They began laying out information on the large dinning table, trying to figure out how to get Tony back. They kept glancing over at you, wondering if you’d ever be okay again. 

They hadn’t told you that Happy was dead. But you knew. You had seen his body laying across the concrete and knew that there was no coming back from that. You could help but imagine all the terrible things your father was doing to Tony. You hated to think of the pain your father could inflict and that you may never see Tony alive again.

“I want to help,” suddenly and quietly slipped from your lips.

The room stilled and everyone turned to face you.

“Y/N… what?” Steve questioned.

You squirmed under their gazes, pulling the blanket around you. “I want to help,” you repeated a little louder. “I want to help find Tony.”

“Sweetie,” Peggy said gently, “you’ve been through—“

“I know what I’ve been through. But I can still help… please.” Everyone remained silent but had eyes on you. You took a shaky breath before continuing. “He’s the only man who ever made me feel like I was more than what happened to me. He’s… the only thing that’s truly felt safe since… well, since ever.”

“Y/N…” Bucky stepped forward.

“He’s my home,” tears gathered in your eyes. “Let me help. I’m not asking to go with you. But my father’s home was once my own. I may know things you don’t.”

The others shared a silent conversation through looks. Rhodey nodded, stepping up.

“Alright, Y/N,” he said. “You’re in.”

~~~

Tony couldn’t remember when they stopped. It was hard to measure time here. No windows, no clocks. Just his pain. His body was slumped sideways in the chair— one arm unshackled, useless at his side, shoulder dislocated from where they’d yanked too hard during the last round. His lip was split. One eye was swollen shut and there was more blood oozing out of him than he cared for. Breathing hurt. Everything hurt.

He blinked slowly, vision swimming in and out of focus. A flickering light above him buzzed. The hum of the camera’s lens shifting in the corner echoed louder than it should. He hated this silence the most. It gave him too much space to think. And right now, thinking was a battlefield.

“She’s safe. She’s safe. She’s safe,” he kept repeating in his mind.

Tony let his head lol back against the chair, gasping shallow breaths through his clenched teeth. His mind focused on you. He saw your face. Heard your voice.

“Hold on for her. Hold on for her.”

Footsteps outside the door made him tense, every nerve in his broken body flinching. Not again. Please, not again. But they passed and the silence returned. Tony let his head fall forward, hair damp against his forehead. Every breath felt like a fight. But at least he was still breathing. Still here. Still yours. He would make sure to tell you that if— when he got out of here. That he was yours. He would promise to do better. To take you somewhere safer than what he had provided so far. He would move heaven and earth if that’s what it took. Because that’s what you deserved.

~~~

The city buzzed below, but it felt like lightyears away. Everyone decided to call it for the night. It was a hard call, but they had taken a hard hit and everyone needed sleep. You were still fully dressed, curled on the end of the bed. You stared out the tinted window, hating that you couldn’t see any stars. 

The silence in the room was heavy, pressing against you like a ton of bricks. You blinked, swallowing hard. Something wasn’t right. Slowly, you sat up. Your chest was tight. Not with the usual panic. This was different. A deep ache. A throb in your ribs like you’d been bruised from the inside.

“Tony,” you breathed out.

You couldn’t explain it. No alarms had gone off. No update from the team or new intel. But something had shifted, like the thin thread between you and Tony had gone taut. Like he was trying to hold on but slipping. Your hands trembled as you slid off the bed. You stumbled over to the window, like some how but staring out it you could see Tony. Tears welled in your eyes as you pressed your forehead against the glass. 

“Please…” you begged to the universe. To anyone that would listen and grant your request. “Please… don’t let him die.”

You slid down the window, sobbing.

~~~

The dawn broke with you having got no sleep. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours since Tony was taken and you were already a shell of yourself once again. You sat at the table, the others standing around it. A blueprint of your father’s house was rolled out. You leaned in and looked it over.

“It’s not right,” you mumbled. Your shaky hand reached out and pointed to a blank spot. “He’s office is here. There’s stairs to a basement. Like Tony’s… He’d be kept down there.”

“We need more men,” Rhodey stated. “We’re not going to get him out of there alive without extra help.”

“Then we need them gathered quickly,” Steve said. “We can’t waste another day.”

“I’ll stay with Y/N,” Peggy offered. “I’ll get her back to the house.”

“No,” you shook your head. “Please… I can stay here?” You couldn’t be in that big house without Tony there. 

“Of course,” Yelena said, sensing your growing distress. “This penthouse is probably safer anyways.”

~~~

Obadiah felt like he was winning. He was confident in his plan to gain control of all that Stark had. There was only one more step.

“I need her in our hands tonight,” Obadiah told his men. “She needs to be alive, but you can kill anyone in your path to get to her. My daughter will come home. And she will be the thing that causes Stark to hand everything over. If I put her life in jeopardy, he’ll have no choice but to cave.”

A bomb going off shook the whole house. Before Obadiah could say anything about it, a second bomb went off. This time it was closer, throwing him off to the side with his other men. Obadiah coughed, struggling to get to his feet.

“Secure Stark!” He ordered. “Bring him to me!”

“On it, sir,” his men said, rushing to do as they were told.

~~~

“We’ve breached,” Steve stated over their comms. 

They weren’t stupid. They weren’t going to go into the house, but had formed a plan to blast a hole where the basement was. They knew it was risky, but it was the best plan they could come up with.

“Then go!” Rhodey ordered. “We’ll handle Obadiah!”

Steve and Bucky entered the hole, smoke blinding them. They could hear the gunfire echoing from upstairs. The lights overhead flickered as Steve and Bucky moved swiftly through the hallways, taking out anyone who got in their way. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. 

They moved fast, quickly spotting the only room with a closed door in the hallway.  Steve got there first. He threw the door open. Tony was slumped in the metal chair, no longer cuffed because he was too weak to do anything. His right eye was completely swollen shut. Blood stained his torn clothes and any skin it could latch onto. His breathing was shallow. So shallow that for a terrifying second, Bucky and Steve thought they were too late. But then Tony’s good eye blinked, slowly.

“About damn time,” he rasped, voice like sandpaper.

“Shit, Stark,” Bucky muttered, already at his side.

Steve dropped to one knee. “We’ve got you, Tony,” he said. “We’ve got you.”

Tony let out a broken laugh that turned into a cough. “To—Took you… long enough.”

“We had to be dramatic,” Bucky smirked. “You know how it is.”

“Y/N— Y/N… How is she?”

“She’s safe. She’s waiting for you to come home.”

Tony nodded, sliding off the chair. Steve quickly caught the man.

“Hey, stay with us,” Steve coaxed. “We still have to get out of here.”

“He… He’s going after her,” Tony continued. “Are you sure she’s safe?”

“Peggy’s with her and another group of guards. She’s in the penthouse. They’d be stupid to get her there.”

“Come on,” Bucky urged, helping Steve pick up Tony.

“We have Obadiah cornered,” Rhodey’s voice came through the comms loud enough for Tony to hear. “We’re going to end this.”

“Tell them to wait,” Tony ordered. “I want to end him myself.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked. “You need to be looked over. We have Banner outside and—“

“Take me to Stane.”

~~~

Despite the pain, Tony refused to let Steve and Bucky help him into the room Rhodey had Obadiah cornered in. Natasha and Yelena were there too, refusing to point their guns anywhere else but that man. Tony stepped inside the room, limping heavily.

“You look like hell, Stark,” Obadiah taunted. “Did you come all this way to gloat?”

“No,” Tony replied, voice firm. “I cam to make sure you heard me.”

“What could you possibly say that matters now?”

Tony took a step closer. “You lost. You had all the power, all the leverage. And you still lost.” Obadiah glared. “You don’t get to touch her again. You don’t get to inflict pain on her again. Y/N is protected. Always.”

Obadiah scoffed. “You think this is over? She will never escape my pain.”

Tony raised his hand and Rhodey placed his gun in it. “Threaten my wife again. I dare you.”

“You’re wife?” Obadiah cackled. “She’s not wife material. She’s barely anything. You’ll throw her away eventually. And I’ll be there to remind her that she is nothing. She is—”

The shot was quick. The bullet left the barrel and shot through Obadiah’s head quickly, causing the man to slump back, dead. Tony dropped the gun, stumbling back as his adrenaline wore off.

“Take me home,” he muttered as Steve caught him. “Take me to her…”

~~~

The penthouse was too quiet. The only sounds were of your feet as you paced the floor. Peggy stood still, off to the side as she watched you. They hadn’t updated her and she was growing anxious as well. She watched you paced from the window, to the kitchen, back again. Every minute that past felt like it was crushing you. Your whole body was trembling as your thoughts spiraled.

What if they’re too late?

What if he’s dead?

What if your father is on his way right now to you?

A sudden buzz broke the silence— the alert panel by the door flickering on. It turned green as you heard the elevator rising. You froze, not daring to move or even breathe. A chime. The doors slide open and there he was. Tony. Bloodied. Bruised. Injured. But it was him. And he was alive. Your eyes locked with his. Tony tugged away from the others as he staggered forward. You ran, throwing your arms around him without a second thought. Tony caught you, his good arm pulling you in while his whole body practically folded into the embrace like its as the only thing keeping him standing. 

“You’re safe…” you whispered, voice cracking. “You’re safe…”

Tony let out a breath like it had been trapped in his lungs for days. “I did it,” he whispered, voice still rough. “Obadiah. He’s gone. It’s done.”

You pulled back just far enough to look into his eyes. “He’s… he’s dead?”

Tony nodded slowly. “I made sure.”

Your tears fell freely. “I’m free?”

“You’re free, Y/N.”

“And you came back…”

He rested his forehead against yours. “I will always come back to you, honey.”

“I… I felt it,” you whispered. “When it got bad… I knew something was wrong.”

Tony’s lips trembled, but he couldn’t get the tears to fall. “I kept seeing your face… Even when I wanted to quit. You were there. Pulling me from the edge.”

The two of you stood there for a long time, wrapped in silence, pain, and relief. With a shaky breath, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, so softly that it was barely felt. Tony let out a pained breath.

“I was so scared,” you admitted.

“I’m here,” Tony said, his good arm tightened around you. “I’m right here.”

next chapter >

[anythinggoesbutme]

Soft is the Boy Who Stays

Part two of Bitter is the Boy Who Waited

Grayson Hawthorne x Lyra Kane

Part One: Bitter is the Boy Who Waits

Warnings: explicit sexual content, steamy and passionate kissing, intense physical intimacy, Implied consent and exploration of boundaries, rough language and desire-driven dialogue, brief mention of previous emotional tension and unresolved feelings, implied intercourse

Synopsis: Grayson and Lyra can no longer ignore the simmering tension between them, leading to an intense and passionate encounter where all their pent-up emotions finally erupt.

Word Count: 2,632

The drive back to his place was quiet.

Not silent—Grayson’s hand never left hers. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other laced through her fingers like it belonged there. And maybe it did. The windows fogged with breath and city light, and every time Lyra glanced sideways at him, it was like looking at something she’d always wanted but hadn’t dared name.

The Hawthorne name was gravity, pulling attention, pressure, legacy. But in the car, he wasn’t Grayson Hawthorne.

He was just Grayson.

And when he parked in front of his house and stepped around to open her door before she could even reach for the handle—she let herself breathe.

He didn’t say anything as they walked up the front steps. Didn’t try to rush her or reach for her like he had the right. His fingers brushed the small of her back, and that was all.

The door clicked softly shut behind them.

And the quiet wrapped around them again.

She slipped off her coat. He hung it. No words, just this comfortable hush that felt more intimate than anything loud could’ve been. She toed off one heel, wincing slightly.

Immediately, Grayson turned.

“Sit,” he said gently, already kneeling in front of her like it was instinct. “Please.”

She blinked. “Grayson, I can—”

“Let me,” he said, eyes flicking up to hers. “Just… let me.”

Lyra sat on the edge of the couch, watching him. He crouched in front of her in that expensive suit, tie slightly loosened, sleeves rolled back just far enough to reveal the edge of a watch and the lines of his forearms.

His fingers brushed her skin, warm and patient as he slid the strap of her heel loose.

“I think these shoes are secretly torture devices,” she murmured.

He smiled faintly. “They’re stunning. But yes. Torture.”

He slipped off the first shoe, then moved to the second, his touch never rushed. Lyra watched the way he moved—graceful, deliberate, like everything he did was with full attention. His brow furrowed slightly when he noticed the faint red mark the strap had left on her skin.

“Does it hurt?”

She shrugged. “Not really. I’ll survive.”

Grayson didn’t answer. He just brushed his thumb gently across the mark, as if trying to erase it with kindness. His hand lingered there, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

She exhaled slowly. “You really are something else.”

That made him look up.

“I mean it,” she said. “Grayson Hawthorne. Power broker, donor darling. And you’re kneeling in a living room helping me out of my heels like it’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing,” he said quietly. “It’s you.”

Something caught in her throat.

“You don’t have to be gentle,” she whispered.

“I want to be.”

She swallowed. “You don’t have to stay.”

He sat back on his heels, still looking up at her. “I do.”

“Why?”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her like he wanted to memorize everything about this moment.

“Because I’ve watched too many people walk away from the things that mattered,” he said. “And I won’t be one of them.”

Her chest tightened. “Even if I’m not easy?”

“Especially then.”

There was a silence. Not empty. Full of all the things they’d never said.

Lyra leaned forward, brushing her fingers through his hair. “You scare me.”

“I know,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You scare me too.”

She smiled sadly. “Why does that feel like the safest thing I’ve ever heard?”

Grayson reached up, gently pulling her hand into his. “Because we both know what it’s like when people don’t mean what they say. And I meant every word back there.”

“Which one?” she teased, voice rough around the edges. “The part where you wanted to punch my ex, or the part where you said I was yours?”

He smiled. “Both.”

Lyra leaned forward again, brushing her forehead against his. “You didn’t kiss me in the ballroom.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He drew in a breath. “Because I didn’t want it to be a spectacle. I didn’t want anyone else in the room to think they had any part in it.”

“And here?”

He stood slowly, pulling her to her feet with him. “Here, it’s just us.”

His arms circled her waist, and hers found his shoulders. The kiss this time was softer—no tension, no heat demanding to be answered. Just the kind of kiss that told the truth without needing anything more.

They stayed like that a while. Not kissing. Just holding.

Grayson rested his chin on top of her head, one hand tracing slow circles on her back.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he murmured. “Not for tonight. Not ever.”

“I know,” she whispered. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

His arms tightened around her.

And for the first time in a long time, Lyra believed it—believed that maybe someone could stay. That softness didn’t mean fragility. That maybe, just maybe, love could be steady.

“Stay here tonight,” he said eventually. “Just to sleep. I’ll take the couch if you want the bed.”

Lyra pulled back, looking up at him. “You really are a Hawthorne.”

He raised a brow. “How so?”

“You know how to offer me everything,” she said, her voice light. “And still ask for nothing.”

Grayson smiled, slow and warm. “You can have all of it, Lyra. You already do.”

And as she leaned into him, barefoot, unarmored, and finally—finally—safe, she thought:

Soft is the boy who stays.

And I’m done running from that.

Lyra felt it before she could process it.

The shift. The moment where the air between them thickened, heavy with something neither of them wanted to avoid anymore.

There was no longer just the soft heat of a kiss shared in quiet understanding.

No, now there was tension—thick, burning, a slow and delicious build-up that had been simmering under the surface all night long.

Grayson’s hands were still on her waist, but they moved now with more intent, more urgency. His thumb grazed over the soft fabric of her dress, then brushed the bare skin of her stomach just beneath. She gasped at the contact—sharp, unexpected—but didn’t pull away.

No, she leaned into it, closer, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. Her breath caught as he drew her in just a little further, his body fitting against hers like it was meant to.

When he pulled back, his lips were just inches from hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath, the slight tremor in his exhale.

It was as if he was waiting for her to speak, to do something to slow the momentum building between them. But Lyra didn’t want to slow it.

She didn’t want anything to be gentle anymore. She was done with gentle, done with hesitations and careful movements. She wanted him. All of him.

And he wanted her. She could see it in his eyes. She could feel it in the tension of his body.

“Grayson,” she whispered, the word escaping her lips like a prayer.

His hands slid from her waist to her hips, pulling her flush against him, and it was then—the full realization of how much she wanted this—that made her own hands move of their own accord.

Her fingers slid into his hair, gripping tightly as she pulled him back toward her, closing the remaining distance between them.

This time, the kiss was urgent. It was hungry, but it wasn’t the reckless kind.

It was controlled, but in the way that only he could be—like everything he did, he was aware of each movement, each breath.

His lips found hers with the kind of passion that had been waiting to explode for what felt like a lifetime.

Her pulse quickened as his mouth moved against hers, his tongue brushing against her bottom lip before slipping inside, claiming her, making her knees feel weak, making her head spin with the heat that seemed to flood her entire body.

Grayson’s kiss was no longer patient—it was frantic, as though he had been waiting for this, aching for this moment in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to before.

She let herself go with it.

Her hands slid down to his chest, feeling the firm planes of his muscles beneath his shirt, the way his body seemed to tense under her touch.

Every inch of him felt like something she couldn’t get enough of. He groaned softly as she traced the lines of his chest, slipping her hands under his shirt and feeling the heat of his skin beneath her fingertips.

Grayson pulled away just enough to break the kiss, his lips trailing along her jawline, down to her neck. His breath was warm against her skin, the rasp of his voice sending a thrill through her.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmured, his lips pressing against the sensitive spot just below her ear.

Lyra’s hands slid lower, her fingers brushing against the waistband of his pants.

The contact was electric—sparks of need rushing through her body, igniting something deep within her that had been lying dormant for too long.

She could feel the heat between them, the undeniable pull. It wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just about the way his body pressed against hers, how his hands gripped her so possessively.

It was everything. The unspoken words. The history. The way they had circled each other for so long, neither of them ready to fully admit what was brewing beneath the surface.

But now? Now there were no more games. No more pretending. Lyra had spent too long walking around with her heart in a cage. Tonight, she was letting it out. Letting it all go.

“Grayson,” she breathed, her voice hushed, needy. “I need you.”

His eyes snapped to hers, a flash of something—something dark, something primal—passing across his features. He didn’t say a word.

Instead, his hands moved lower, sliding along her hips and thighs, pulling her closer, so close she could feel the hard length of him pressed against her, the heat of it making her stomach tighten.

And then he kissed her again—harder, deeper, more urgent this time. His mouth moved against hers with an intensity that had her head spinning, had her hands slipping beneath his shirt, pushing it up, desperate to feel more of him.

She could taste him—taste the champagne on his lips, the tang of something more intoxicating than any drink she’d ever had.

She wanted more. She needed more. And she couldn’t stop herself from pulling him closer, her hands roaming over his back, pressing against him as though she couldn’t get close enough.

Grayson groaned softly, breaking the kiss just long enough to unzip her dress, leaving her in nothing but her lace bra.

His eyes darkened as he looked at her—really looked at her, the way he hadn’t before, and it sent a shiver down her spine.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Lyra’s heart fluttered. “Stop saying things that make me want to kiss you again,” she teased, her voice low, dripping with the same need that radiated from his body.

He smirked, but it was a wicked thing. “I’m not the one who started this, Lyra.”

“No,” she agreed, slipping her hands under his shirt once more, tugging it off him in one swift motion. “But you’re the one who’s not stopping it.”

His lips found hers again as his hands trailed to the back of her thighs—pulling them up and around his waist leading her down the hallway towards his bedroom, he placed her on his bed breaking the kiss.

He chuckled softly, his hands moving to undo her panties, slowly, deliberately, taking his time like he had all night.

“You don’t have to be so damn slow,” she muttered, frustration creeping into her voice.

Grayson’s eyes sparkled with mischief, but there was something more there—something darker. “Patience, Lyra. It’s not all about rushing. Not anymore.”

Her pulse raced, blood pounding in her ears. Her chest rose and fell with the effort to hold herself together as his hands slid back up her body, his fingers grazing over the lace of her bra, teasing her in ways that had her fighting to keep her composure.

But when his mouth found her neck again, his lips hot against her skin, she lost the battle.

She tugged at the waistband of his pants. “Take them off,” she whispered, voice a little unsteady. “Please.”

Grayson didn’t need any more encouragement. The way he looked at her told her all she needed to know. There was no hesitation left in him either.

They didn’t rush.

Not really.

It might’ve looked like urgency from the outside—the way their bodies came together, the way hands searched and mouths found and breaths tangled—but under the surface, there was something gentler. Something careful.

As if both of them knew the weight of the moment. As if they knew that when the clothes came off, so did the last of their defenses.

It wasn’t perfect.

Grayson nearly tripped over his slacks trying to step out of them, muttering something under his breath about “designer pants and hardwood floors not being made for coordination.”

Lyra laughed, breathless, tugging him toward her with a grin that made his heart stutter.

“I’ve never seen you flustered,” she teased softly, brushing his hair back from his face.

“I’m not,” he said, but the heat in his cheeks betrayed him. “I just—this matters.”

She quieted at that.

Because it did. It mattered so much more than she’d let herself believe.

They ended up tangled in her sheets, wrapped in each other, hearts pounding as they took the time to memorize every inch of closeness.

And even as the kisses deepened, even as her hands explored and his mouth found her pulse and stayed there just a moment too long, it never stopped being soft. Not completely.

There was something achingly sweet about the way he touched her.

Like he couldn’t believe she was real.

Like he wasn’t quite sure she’d still be there in the morning.

And Lyra—she felt it too. In the way she whispered his name. In the way she closed her eyes when he kissed the inside of her wrist, as if branding the quietest parts of her with something she hadn’t known she wanted until now.

They moved slowly. Tenderly. Until everything melted into hush.

And afterward, when the world had settled, when there was nothing left but the sound of their breathing and the warmth of his arm pulling her against his chest, Lyra curled into him and didn’t say a word.

She didn’t have to.

Grayson’s fingers traced lazy circles against her back, his breath soft against her hair.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured eventually.

“I’m thinking,” she said, voice muffled against his collarbone.

“About?”

She tilted her head back, just enough to meet his eyes.

“You.”

A beat. Then:

“Yeah?”

She nodded. “I think I waited a long time to feel like this. And now that it’s here, I don’t want it to be temporary.”

Something tightened in his expression.

He kissed her forehead. Slow. Steady.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered.

And she believed him. Not because he said it like a promise. But because he said it like a fact.

Grayson Hawthorne was the boy who stayed.

And in the quiet aftermath of something that had felt like the undoing of a thousand lonely nights, Lyra realized—maybe she could finally stop running.

Maybe this was where she landed.

Wrapped in him.

Wrapped in home.

[uncuredturkeybacon]

𝟽:𝟷𝟸 𝚊𝚖 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which paige thought you'd never look up

It was quiet in a way Paige wasn’t used to.

Not the kind of silence that buzzed in the background of a UConn locker room after a tough loss. Not the kind that blanketed a gym when the lights shut off and sneakers stopped squeaking. This was a softer quiet. A private kind. The kind that came with early mornings and fresh starts, with unpacked boxes and unfamiliar streets. The kind that reminded you that you were alone, but not necessarily lonely.

Paige sipped her coffee—black, a little too bitter—and leaned her elbows on the black iron railing of her third-floor balcony. The mug was warm against her palms, grounding. Below her, Dallas slowly stretched itself awake. Cars hummed lazily down the street. A man walked his dog, leash slack. Somewhere down the block, someone opened a café, the smell of bread and espresso sneaking its way into the breeze. A city in motion.

You.

You didn’t make a sound when you entered her frame of view. You didn’t even look up. Paige hadn’t seen you coming until you were already halfway down the block, your ponytail swaying behind you, earbuds in, tank top clinging to skin that looked golden in the rising sun.

She blinked. The mug halted halfway to her lips.

Who the hell…?

You weren’t jogging. You were gliding. Effortless. Focused. There was something about you—something sharp and soft at once. Something about the way your hands curled into loose fists and your gaze stayed forward, like the world was too big to pause for.

Paige turned slightly, leaning over the railing, trying not to seem too obvious, tracking your path as you disappeared past the edge of the complex. You never looked up. You never noticed her.

But she noticed you.

She watched the street for five more minutes after you vanished, but it felt like the air had shifted. Like you’d taken something with you. The corner of her mouth lifted, just barely.

“I should’ve said hi,” she muttered to herself, though she knew that would’ve been weird. Creepy, even. Still, the thought stuck.

The next morning, Paige was back on the balcony.

Same coffee. Same mug. Same city waking up.

She told herself she just liked the view. That it helped her start the day with a clear head. That it had nothing to do with you.

She didn’t expect to see you again.

But like clockwork—there you were.

This time she noticed the way your breathing was steady. The way your eyes flicked briefly to the trees overhead, like you were admiring the light that filtered through. The way your lashes caught the sunlight. Paige tried not to stare. Failed. You were mesmerizing.

You didn’t look up. You passed, just as fast as the first time, and were gone again.

Paige set her coffee down and leaned on the railing with both arms.

Who were you?

Some part of her wanted to yell down. To say something stupid like, “Hey! Want coffee?” Or maybe not stupid. Maybe bold. But you didn’t stop. You didn’t even know she was there.

By the fourth morning, Paige wasn’t pretending anymore.

She was out there ten minutes earlier than usual, hair damp from a rushed shower, oversized hoodie swallowing her frame. She didn’t even care that the coffee was too hot to drink yet. She was just waiting.

And when you came into view—sweat glistening along your temple, your brow furrowed in concentration—Paige felt something shift in her chest. You were so consistent. So focused. Like the rest of the world fell away every time your sneakers hit the pavement.

Paige wondered what music you listened to. What your name was. What your voice sounded like when you laughed.

She wondered if you’d ever notice her. She hoped you would.

It became a rhythm.

Wake up. Coffee. Balcony. You.

Sometimes Paige would pretend she wasn’t watching. She’d glance down at her phone or scroll through a playbook Coach sent her the night before. But her eyes always found you. Always.

One morning, she caught herself smiling before you even arrived.

Another day, she forgot to sip her coffee until it was cold.

Once, you slowed to stretch just past her complex, hands on your hips, one foot out in front. Paige sat frozen, heart in her throat, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the way your fingers adjusted your waistband, the way your gaze swept lazily across the street.

Your eyes flicked up. Not at her balcony. Not quite. But close.

Paige’s heart nearly stopped.

She ducked her head, instantly self-conscious.

Get a grip, Bueckers. You didn’t even know she existed. But the possibility—however small—lingered in her chest like a spark waiting for air.

That night, Paige lay in bed, her ceiling fan spinning shadows across the ceiling. She thought about the WNBA, the press, the weight of everything ahead. But mostly she thought about you.

The girl with sunlit skin and a morning ritual.

The girl who didn’t even know her.

Yet.

A week passed.

Seven mornings. Seven runs. Seven quiet moments where Paige didn’t even know your name, but could tell you always tied your left shoe tighter than your right. That you sometimes ran with your hoodie up when the wind picked up. That you stopped at the same crosswalk two blocks down and lightly tapped your thigh while you waited for the light to change.

She noticed everything. The smallest patterns. The ones only someone watching too closely would catch.

It scared her a little.

Because she wasn’t used to watching. Paige Bueckers had always been the one people watched. On the court. In interviews. Walking down campus sidewalks. But now—she sat in silence on her narrow balcony, not even breathing sometimes, afraid the sound of her inhale would somehow spook the magic away.

And you—you were never late. Not once.

By the eighth morning, Paige was talking to you in her head.

“Hey, good morning.” “You always run this early?” “Do you stretch before or after?” “I’m Paige, by the way.”

The words curled inside her mouth, unspoken and restless. She imagined saying them every time you passed. Imagined what you'd say back. If you’d even hear her. If you'd smile.

But she never called out.

There was something sacred about it—the not-knowing. The distance. The tension suspended in the stillness between two strangers who orbit each other without touch. Something about the way Paige didn’t have to be Paige Bueckers out here. She was just a girl on a balcony, falling for someone she hadn’t even met.

She started dressing differently.

Less hoodie, more intention. A cropped UConn shirt here. A clean low ponytail there. Some mornings, she changed twice before you arrived—pretending she didn’t care what she looked like, even though she’d just spent fifteen minutes debating if her sweat shorts made her look like she hadn’t slept or like she had effortless charm.

She Googled morning running routes in Dallas, wondering where you started. Where you ended. If she could walk out her front door, take a left, and bump into you at the trailhead.

But that would ruin it, wouldn’t it?

There was something beautiful about this invisible string. Something gentle in the ache of almost.

One morning, you stopped.

Paige nearly dropped her coffee.

You were at the edge of the block, where the sidewalk narrowed under a crooked oak tree. Your foot twisted slightly, just enough to make you wince. You paused, leaning down, fingers tracing your ankle. Paige’s stomach twisted.

You looked up.

Not at her. But close.

And for the first time—Paige saw your face fully.

The high cheekbones. The slight furrow of your brow. The bare, natural curve of your mouth. The sunlight made a halo out of your hair. You blinked a few times, stood slowly, then shook it off. You started running again.

Paige sat there breathless, staring at the empty street long after you were gone.

She replayed that wince in her head all day.

The next morning, Paige was early again.

Too early. The street was empty. She waited anyway.

When you came into view—finally, like a reward—you were slower than usual. More careful with your stride. Paige leaned forward instinctively. Watching. Worried.

She wanted to yell, “Hey, are you okay?”

But still—she said nothing.

You ran by. Your pace light. Focused. Careful.

And just before you vanished down the block, you looked up.

Not fully. Not long.

But your eyes flicked upward. Just for a second. Toward the building.

Toward her balcony.

Paige froze.

Was that…? Had you…? Had you seen her?

She stood up so fast she nearly kicked her coffee off the table. She stepped back inside her apartment, heart pounding.

Was she imagining it? Had the heat gotten to her?

She paced.

Hands on her hips, she ran through the moment again. The angle of your gaze. The soft tension in your mouth. The flicker of something—recognition? Curiosity?

You had to have seen her. You had to.

And yet—nothing changed.

No wave. No smile. No pause.

Just one look. A flick of your gaze and the sound of Paige’s pulse hammering in her ears.

She sat back down.

And the next morning—she waited all over again.

She wasn’t following you.

She swore to herself that she wasn’t. This wasn’t a “plan.” She didn’t scroll Maps at 2AM the night before, cross-referencing her own apartment with every cafe in a three-mile radius. She didn’t purposely lace up her sneakers and walk three blocks farther than she needed to because she’d seen you pause at the corner earlier that morning, staring into the window of a place called Oak & Ivy.

She didn’t.

Except… she did.

But only because she wanted a chai latte.

Okay, and maybe because something about this particular Tuesday afternoon felt heavy with possibility.

Oak & Ivy was small, warm. The kind of place with low music, local art on the walls, and a chalkboard menu that looked handwritten daily. Paige stepped inside and immediately felt underdressed. Not in clothes—she had on her usual Wings hoodie, joggers, hair in a bun—but in presence. This was a soft-space, a world of whispered conversation and clinking mugs. Her world had always been louder.

There you were.

Back left corner. One leg crossed over the other, a half-drunk iced drink sweating onto the wooden table beside your phone. You had a book open, thumb tucked into the spine. A pair of glasses perched on your nose that Paige had never seen during your runs.

She almost walked out.

It was instinct—like her body recoiled at the idea of this being too real. For weeks she’d seen you in motion. Clean, safe, faraway. But here you were now, real and still and close enough that she could see the softness in your eyelashes and the way you tugged the sleeve of your sweatshirt when you turned a page.

Paige stood frozen near the register. The barista gave her a once-over and asked, “Can I help you?”

Her brain stalled.

You can help me by rewinding the last 60 seconds so I can pretend I didn’t see her and save myself from cardiac arrest.

“Yeah, uh… chai latte. Iced. Please.”

She tried to speak in a lower voice, just in case you might recognize her name when it was called. But the barista had already written Paige on the side of the cup. Sharp black ink. No hiding now.

She stepped to the waiting area.

Didn’t look at you.

Tried not to.

Failed.

You flipped another page. Took a sip. Adjusted your hair behind one ear.

Paige’s stomach twisted. You were right there. Right there. Not running. Not passing by. Not a blur of sunlight and skin. Just… present.

She stared at the drink fridge for a full minute just to avoid staring at you.

What would she even say?

“Hi, I’ve been watching you run past my building every morning and you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and I think I know the rhythm of your breathing better than my own now?”

Yeah. No. Immediate restraining order.

She tapped her foot. Adjusted the sleeves of her hoodie. Checked her phone even though no one had texted her. And when the barista finally called her name—clear, bright, “Paige!”—she winced.

You looked up.

Just briefly. Just a flicker.

Your gaze skimmed across the cafe. Passed over the counter. Lingered for half a second on her.

Paige tried to act normal. Which meant grabbing her drink too quickly and nearly knocking over the basket of paper straws.

Smooth.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks as she turned—heading for the door like it was the finish line of a nightmare and a dream at the same time. But just before she reached it, she looked back.

You were watching her.

Not hard. Not long. Just… watching. Curious. Calm.

You met her eyes. Gave the softest nod.

Paige’s heart flatlined.

She pushed open the door, stepped into the sun, and nearly screamed into the sky.

The moment haunted her.

Not in a bad way. In the kind of way that you replay, frame by frame, every time your thoughts go quiet. The way you tilted your head just slightly when you looked at her. The way your lips parted like maybe—maybe—you were going to say something.

And now you had a voice in her head. A nod was all it took.

That night, Paige lay on her couch in the dark. The city buzzed faintly outside. Her iced chai sat half-drunk on the coffee table. Her eyes never left the ceiling.

She didn’t talk to you.

But she’d been in the same room as you.

That was something.

That was everything.

The next morning, the city felt louder.

Not in actual volume, but in texture. Every movement felt like it meant more. Like the hum of traffic was heavier. The birdsong too sharp. The scrape of ceramic against the railing as Paige set down her coffee mug made her wince like a sound tech wearing headphones turned up too high.

She was wired. Buzzing.

All because you had looked at her.

All because you had seen her.

Not in passing. Not as a blur while running. Not a flicker in the corner of your eye as you paused under that oak tree.

Yesterday, you had looked at her across a quiet coffee shop, and your eyes had stopped. Just for a second. But they had stopped. On her.

And… you nodded.

A single motion. Barely more than a breath. But it had wrecked her sleep like a freight train through silence.

Paige hadn’t stopped replaying it. The angle of your jaw. The curl of your fingers around the straw. The curve of your lip like you might’ve said something if you were braver. But she wasn’t brave either. Not yet.

She sat on her balcony now, hoodie sleeves pulled over her hands, coffee untouched beside her. The sun hadn’t even broken through the cloud cover yet, but she was already waiting.

She told herself she didn’t know if you’d still run today. Maybe you’d gone out earlier. Maybe you were sore. Maybe you didn’t want to see her. Maybe that nod hadn’t meant anything. Maybe it was just… polite.

But Paige’s body didn’t believe any of those excuses. Her body leaned forward, heart ticking too loud, eyes scanning the sidewalk like it was the only thing anchoring her to the earth.

Then she sees you.

Same rhythm. Same ponytail. But something was different.

You were in black leggings instead of your usual navy ones. Your headphones were in, but one was slightly popped loose. Your steps weren’t rushed—they were intentional. Confident. Controlled.

And—God help her—you were glowing.

She sucked in a breath.

Her hand twitched like she might wave.

She didn’t.

But as you passed her building, your eyes flicked upward.

Deliberately. Directly.

Paige’s heart stopped.

You didn’t smile. You didn’t slow. You didn’t speak.

But your eyes met hers for a second longer than any stranger’s should.

It was intentional.

It was acknowledgment.

It was everything.

And then, just like always, you were gone. Down the block. Around the corner.

Paige leaned back in her chair, exhaled, and realized she was trembling.

You’d looked up.

On purpose.

You knew she watched you now.

And you’d let her.

She didn’t go back inside right away. She sat there until her coffee went cold and the sun climbed higher and the world grew louder and more awake.

But inside, Paige felt something else blooming.

The tension wasn’t sharp anymore. It was alive. A heartbeat between them. A question that didn’t ache as much as it dared.

Saturday wasn’t supposed to matter.

Saturday was for errands. For sleep. For tossing her laundry in the washer and forgetting it for three hours. For clipping her hair up in a claw clip and pulling on whatever hoodie didn’t smell like gym socks. It wasn’t glamorous. It wasn’t dramatic.

It certainly wasn’t romantic.

But here she was—standing in the middle of the produce section at Central Market, staring blankly at a wall of avocados and absolutely failing to remember what she came in for.

Because you were here.

You.

Three feet to her left, browsing the citrus section like you hadn’t just broken her brain for the fifteenth time this month.

You were real.

Not just morning-light real. Not balcony-real. Not coffee-shop-shadowed real. You were sweats and baseball cap and canvas tote bag real. Hair tied up. No makeup. Phone tucked into your pocket. And God, Paige thought you were beautiful when you ran, but this—this wrecked her.

There was something vulnerable about seeing someone in a grocery store. Something naked about it. No pretense. No performance. Just oranges and lists and decisions.

She couldn’t breathe.

She turned her cart sharply, pretending to examine a pile of organic kale she didn’t want. Her heart thudded against her ribs like it was trying to escape. Her fingers clutched the cart handle a little too tight. Her mind scrambled.

Leave. Just leave. You got your oat milk. That’s enough human interaction for one day.

But she couldn’t.

She peeked sideways.

You were holding a grapefruit now, inspecting it like it owed you answers. Paige could see the way your brows knitted in slight concentration, how your thumb gently brushed across the peel. You looked like you were somewhere else in your head.

“Hey.”

The word came soft. Unassuming.

Not directed at her.

You were talking to the guy beside you. A worker. Asking if they had more of something in the back. Your voice was softer than she imagined. Smoother. Familiar and brand new all at once.

Paige didn’t know why that made her feel like sitting down on the floor.

She ducked her head, wheeled around the opposite end of the display, and made a beeline for the granola aisle like it was a damn emergency.

She stared at the cereal boxes.

Didn’t read them. Just stared.

“You didn’t see me”, she told herself. “You didn’t. Please don’t.”

She turned her back to the entrance of the aisle. Counted to ten. Tried to slow her breathing. Tried to remember who she was. A basketball player. A grown adult. Not someone who panicked at the sight of a girl holding fruit.

She heard your voice again.

Closer.

A soft laugh this time.

She held her breath.

Your footsteps passed. Faded.

She turned.

You were walking toward the refrigerated section, casually tossing a baguette into your tote. Completely unaware.

Or… maybe not.

As you rounded the corner, you glanced over your shoulder. Just a bit. Just enough.

Paige caught your eyes.

And this time—you smiled.

Not huge. Not dramatic.

Just the corner of your mouth, pulling upward like a shared joke only one of you had the nerve to say out loud.

Paige felt her face flush instantly. She gave the most awkward nod in the history of nods. It was barely a movement. Her neck betrayed her.

You were gone again.

Like always.

She finished her shopping on autopilot. She didn’t see you again, but you were everywhere. In the smell of lemons. In the warmth left behind in the aisle where you’d stood. In her reflection on the sliding glass doors as she left the store, heart spinning.

She didn’t even remember to grab the oat milk.

The morning light had changed.

It wasn’t just the sun—it was something in the air. A shift so subtle it couldn’t be explained. Paige felt it in her skin before her feet hit the floor. She brushed her teeth with one hand on the counter, staring at her reflection like it might answer the question she hadn’t asked out loud.

What the hell are we doing?

Because it had gone on long enough now.

Not the watching. That was still hers—her little ritual of silence and caffeine and breathlessness. But now it was yours, too.

You looked up every time you passed. Sometimes a nod. Sometimes a smirk. Once, when she was mid-sip and caught off guard, you winked.

She choked. Actually choked. Spilled coffee on her shorts. You didn’t see the aftermath, but she spent the next fifteen minutes pacing inside her apartment, praying to the gods of charisma to get it together.

But neither of you spoke. Not yet.

She was back on the balcony.

She’d picked a different hoodie this time—cleaner, softer, a pale blue that looked better with her eyes (not that you were close enough to see her eyes… probably… but still). Her hair was braided this morning, one long rope over her shoulder. Her coffee steamed beside her, untouched.

There you were.

She could sense you before she saw you. There was a rhythm to your stride now that matched something in her. Paige swore the sidewalk quieted beneath your feet.

You turned the corner. She leaned forward—just slightly. Like her body was answering a question her mind hadn’t dared ask.

And you looked up. Of course you did.

But this time, you slowed.

Not a full stop. Not dramatic.

But noticeable.

A change.

A message.

Your gaze locked with hers—firm, deliberate. Like a string pulled tight across the distance between you. And Paige—God help her—she smiled. She didn’t plan it. It just broke across her face like light through glass.

You smiled back.

But you did something new.

You raised a hand. Just slightly. A wave. Not small. Not hesitant. A real one.

Paige’s heart burst in her chest. She lifted her hand. Waved back.

It was absurdly simple. But it felt like a tectonic shift.

You ran on.

She didn’t breathe for five full seconds. Didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

And when she finally exhaled, it was a laugh. A disbelieving, giddy, shoulder-shaking laugh that curled up from her gut and warmed every cold morning she’d ever spent on that balcony.

The text from her teammate came an hour later.

Nai: u high off caffeine or something? why u smiling at nothing during film?

Paige didn’t answer. She couldn’t explain it. Not yet.

That night, Paige sat on the edge of her bed, scrolling through her camera roll. She stopped on a photo of the skyline she’d taken the day she moved in. She’d captioned it new city. fresh start.

She never expected that “fresh start” to come in the form of a stranger on a sidewalk.

A stranger with a smile that lingered like a song she hadn’t heard in years but somehow still knew all the words to.

She didn’t know your name. But she was sure of something now.

You knew hers.

Paige hadn’t meant to be out this long.

What was supposed to be a quick walk—just to get out of her apartment, clear her head, stop watching game tape for five minutes—had turned into a full-on wandering session. She didn’t have a destination. No headphones, no purpose. Just her hoodie, her keys, and the sun warm on her shoulders.

It had been one of those weeks. Rough practice. Minor ankle tweak. Restless sleep. Her head was cluttered with noise she couldn’t sort through.

Until she saw you.

Sitting alone.

On the edge of a public fountain three blocks from her place. A small plaza she’d passed a dozen times but never really looked at.

You were… just sitting there.

Not running. Not passing. Not in motion at all.

You had your legs folded up on the edge, chin in your palm, eyes squinting slightly at the sun. Your phone was beside you, but you weren’t on it. You looked peaceful. Focused. Your other hand held a half-full water bottle, which you slowly tilted in your palm like you didn’t even realize you were doing it.

Paige stopped walking before her brain caught up.

She felt it in her chest first—that quick burst of recognition, followed immediately by panic. Not panic like fear, but panic like a wave crashing inside her ribs. A sudden, chaotic awareness of how unprepared she was to see you outside the ritual.

No ponytail. No sports bra. No earbuds. Just… you. Sitting. Still.

She hesitated on the sidewalk, frozen halfway between turn around right now and say something.

You looked up.

The second your eyes found hers, Paige forgot how to breathe.

She watched your brows rise—subtle, surprised. But not unpleasant.

You smiled. Not the small, passing kind. This one was slower. Real. It unfolded like you meant it. Like seeing her here, outside the script, was good.

She gave a soft wave.

It felt different this time. More vulnerable somehow.

You tilted your head.

“You stalking me?” you asked.

Your voice.

She’d only heard it once before—in the grocery store, directed at someone else. But now, it was aimed at her. Direct. Dry. Teasing.

Paige blinked.

You smiled wider. “You don’t have to look so scared.”

“I’m not scared,” she said too quickly. Then cleared her throat. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You nodded toward the open fountain ledge beside you. “You can sit. If you want.”

Her brain paused. Screamed. Rebooted.

She sat.

Carefully. Casually, she hoped. Arms rested on her knees. Close enough to feel your presence. Far enough not to intrude.

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Just took another sip of your water. Looked up at the trees rustling overhead.

Paige felt like the whole city had gone quiet.

And then you glanced at her again. “You always sit on balconies and silently watch women run by, or is that just, like, a Dallas thing?”

She laughed. Out loud.

A bright, honest, caught kind of laugh that made her bury her face in her hands for a second.

“God,” she muttered. “I swear I’m not creepy.”

“Mm.” You raised a brow. “You did start waving at some random stranger from above like a Victorian ghost.”

“I’m—okay. That’s fair.”

You smiled again.

“So,” you said. “What’s your name, Balcony Girl?”

“Paige.”

You nodded. “Nice to meet you, Paige.”

The silence that followed was easier now.

Not loaded. Not shy.

Just a pause. A breath.

Paige looked at you sideways. “And your name?”

You smirked. “Guess you’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

Paige was up before her alarm.

No snooze button. No dragging her feet. No thirty-minute battle with her pillow before rolling out of bed. She was up and moving—messy bun, mismatched socks, hoodie half-zipped—like muscle memory had already decided that today matters.

The morning was still. The sky hadn’t shaken off its blue-grey yet. A light breeze danced through the street, cool against her legs as she stepped out onto the balcony, coffee warming both palms.

She leaned against the railing. Same spot. Same view. But nothing about it felt the same.

Because now, she knew your name.

Not literally—not yet.

But she knew your voice. She knew your laugh. She knew the way you raised an eyebrow when you teased her like it was second nature.

And most of all, she knew you’d noticed her. Not just as some figure on a balcony or a flash of recognition in a coffee shop. You’d spoken to her. You’d invited her to sit. You’d made her laugh, called her Balcony Girl, and then disappeared again—just enough mystery to make her stomach flip when she thought about it.

She waited now, but not nervously. Not obsessively.

She waited like someone who expected you.

When you appeared—just like always, at the edge of the block—it was like the entire street shifted into color.

You weren’t running hard this morning. Just a jog. Your pace was light, easy. Your hair was down today, in a low braid that bounced behind your back with every step. You had a new sweatshirt on—navy with faded white letters—and Paige squinted, trying to read it.

You looked up.

Eyes locked instantly.

And this time, when Paige waved, it wasn’t cautious.

It was hers.

Bright. Confident. Familiar.

You grinned mid-run—real and wide—and lifted your hand in return. The motion wasn’t slow or teasing or halfway. It was excited. Like waving at someone you were actually happy to see.

You didn’t stop. You kept running. But just before you turned the corner, you shouted up, “See you tomorrow, Balcony Girl.”

Paige blinked, stunned.

“Wait—hey! You still didn’t tell me your name!”

You were already disappearing around the building, your laugh echoing faintly down the street.

She stood there for a long moment after.

Grinning.

Speechless.

A little wrecked in the best possible way.

Later that morning, she texted Dijonai again.

Paige: okay so hypothetically if you were falling for someone you haven’t technically dated yet but they’ve called you ‘balcony girl’ twice… what does that mean

Nai: it means ur gone

Nai: rip to paige. we knew her well.

Paige sat on the couch, still smiling like an idiot. She pulled her knees up to her chest, coffee forgotten beside her. The street below buzzed like any other day.

But she wasn’t watching a stranger anymore.

She was watching you.

And tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.

She didn’t make coffee that morning.

Didn’t even step onto the balcony.

She couldn’t.

Because today, Paige wasn’t watching.

She was waiting.

Her heart thudded in her chest like it hadn’t since her first college start, like something was about to begin—but she wasn’t holding a ball this time. She was just holding her breath.

And a water bottle.

Because if you’re going to wait outside your building for a girl you’ve only technically spoken to once, the least you can do is pretend you’re doing something athletic.

She shifted from foot to foot in the crisp morning air. No headphones. No distractions. Just her hoodie sleeves pulled over her knuckles and her eyes scanning the sidewalk like she was trying to find the exact place you’d appear.

There you were.

Right on cue.

You rounded the block, braid swinging, cheeks flushed with the kind of early sun that made everything look a little more golden than it really was.

You slowed the second you saw her.

Eyes narrowed. Smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Look who decided to join the ground dwellers,” you called out between breaths.

Paige smiled. “I thought I’d try this thing where I don’t watch people from above like I’m in You.”

You laughed softly, coming to a gradual stop right in front of her.

Close now.

She could see the freckles on your nose. The sweat gathering at your temple. The way your chest rose and fell with the tail end of your run. You looked even better up close. Real. Breathless. Effortless.

“You waiting for someone?” you asked, teasing but warm.

She shrugged, casual. “Kinda hoping you’d show up.”

You smirked. “Guess I’m predictable.”

“No,” Paige said, before she could help herself. “You’re… constant.”

The word settled between you. Heavier than she meant it to be. Truer, too.

Your smile softened. You looked down at your shoes for a second, then back up. “You always say things like that?”

“Only when I’m nervous.”

You raised a brow. “You’re nervous?”

“A little.” A pause. “Okay, a lot.”

You took a step forward. Close enough that Paige could smell the citrus tang of your body wash. “You don’t have to be,” you said, your voice softer now. “I don’t bite.”

“Good to know.”

“But I do like messing with you.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I figured that out somewhere around ‘Victorian ghost.’”

A beat passed. And then—finally—you offered your hand.

You said your name. Simple. Like a secret finally shared.

Paige reached out without hesitation, taking your hand in hers.

Warm. Steady.

“I’m Paige,” she said again, even though you already knew. She wanted to hear it in this moment, between you. Not from interviews. Not from Google. Just here. Just her.

“I know. You told me last time,” you replied with a smile. “And you’re kind of hard to miss.”

You let your hands linger in that shake a little longer than necessary.

And neither of you pulled away first.

The run was over.

But Paige hadn’t gone back upstairs.

You hadn’t sprinted off.

Instead, you slowed to a walk beside her, gently bouncing on your heels to ease the tension in your calves, your shirt clinging slightly to your back. The early sun had started to climb, but the street was still quiet, shaded with lingering spring cool.

You didn’t say much at first.

Just that you always ran a five-mile loop. That you usually stopped for smoothies after, two blocks over at a tiny place Paige had never even noticed.

“Best in Dallas,” you’d said, casually. “And no one’s ever in there.”

And somehow—without needing to ask—Paige was walking there with you.

The smoothie shop was tucked into the corner of an old strip with weathered signage and murals of fruits that looked like they hadn’t been touched up since 2012. You pushed the door open with your shoulder like you’d done it a hundred times before. Paige followed close behind, the bell above the door jingling softly.

The inside smelled like mango and bleach. Neon chalkboard menus lined the wall. You didn’t look—you already knew your order.

Paige glanced at the options, overwhelmed.

“What’s good?” she asked.

You leaned close, eyes flicking over the board. “Mango pineapple with extra ginger. Trust me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Ginger?”

“It bites back. You’ll like it.”

You turned to the employee—who barely looked up—and ordered yours like it was routine. Then you waited beside her while she stumbled through hers, still skeptical about the ginger.

When you both sat down by the fogged-up front window with your plastic cups sweating between your palms, the silence stretched for just a beat too long.

And then you sipped and nodded, pleased.

Paige did the same. Her face twisted.

You grinned. “Too much?”

“No,” she coughed. “It’s good. Just… assertive.”

“Like me,” you said, grinning wider.

Paige rolled her eyes, laughing. “Unbelievable.”

But she was smiling now. Less guarded. Her shoulders looser. The tension from the balcony days melting into something brighter. Warmer.

You rested your cheek on your hand. “So… how long were you gonna keep watching me from your balcony before saying something?”

She blushed. “Forever, probably.”

“I figured. You had that socially capable but emotionally repressed look about you.”

“That’s… incredibly accurate.”

“Don’t worry,” you said, “I liked it.”

Paige swallowed around a smile and a sip of smoothie. “So, you noticed me?”

You gave her a look like duh. “You’re tall. You have a balcony. You waved. Kind of hard to miss.”

“Still. I wasn’t sure.”

“You were consistent,” you said simply. “And cute.”

That shut her up.

For about five seconds.

“I thought you didn’t bite?”

“I don’t,” you smirked. “But I do flirt.”

You both laughed, heads tipping toward each other naturally. The smoothie cups sat mostly untouched now, condensation dripping down the sides like your fingers had forgotten about them entirely.

When you both stepped back out into the sunlight, Paige felt something settle in her chest.

Not nerves.

Not longing.

Just… peace.

You walked beside her again. No destination. No expectation.

And before you split off at the corner—before you jogged backward for a few feet with a casual, “See you tomorrow?”—you nudged her shoulder lightly with yours.

Not too much. Just enough to let her know the world had shifted again.

Paige nodded, lips tugging upward.

“Tomorrow,” she echoed, voice warm.

And for once, it didn’t feel like watching anymore.

It felt like beginning.

The invitation hadn’t come casually.

It took Paige three days to work up the courage.

Not because she didn’t want you there. She did—more than anything. But because it wasn’t just asking you to watch her play. It was letting you see her under the lights, in her element, where her name echoed over loudspeakers and strangers wore her jersey. It was one thing to wave from a balcony. Another to stand on a court in front of ten thousand people, knowing you were somewhere in the front row.

Somehow, it felt more vulnerable than all the mornings combined.

She hadn’t asked for your number. That still felt too soon, too sharp. But she knew you always ran the same route. Always stopped. Always passed her building right around 7:12 every morning.

So that’s where she waited.

This time, not with coffee.

Not from above.

But outside. Hoodie on. Bag slung over her shoulder. Nervous energy curling around her fingers.

She heard you before she saw you—your sneakers scuffing lightly against the pavement, your low hum to whatever song played in your earbuds.

And then there you were.

You slowed the moment your eyes met hers. A little surprised. A little delighted.

“You’re not usually here this time of day,” you said, breath caught mid-stride.

“I was waiting.”

Your brow lifted. “For me?”

Paige grinned, a little bashful. “Well, yeah. I, uh… I have a game tonight.”

You crossed your arms playfully. “Let me guess—you’re kind of a big deal?”

She laughed. “Only on Tuesdays.”

You tilted your head, studying her. “So… why tell me?”

Paige pulled a sleek, laminated ticket from her hoodie pocket and held it out. Court side. One seat. Your name written in block letters on a sticky note pressed to the top.

“I thought maybe you’d want to come,” she said, softer now. “If you’re free.”

You blinked.

“Wait—how did you even get my name?”

“You said it last week. At the fountain,” Paige said, smiling. “I wrote it down on a napkin as soon as I got home. Just in case.”

That made you laugh. A little startled. A lot charmed.

“You’ve been carrying that around?”

“Like a complete loser, yeah.”

You took the ticket gently, reading the seat info, lips parting slightly. “Court side?”

Paige rubbed the back of her neck. “Like I said… kind of a big deal.”

You looked at her for a long moment. And then, quietly, “You want me to see you.”

It wasn’t a question. It was truth.

Paige nodded. “Yeah. I do.”

Something passed between you then—gentle, slow, sure. Like gravity. Like all those mornings on the balcony had only ever been the prelude to this.

You smiled.

“I’ll be there.”

Hours later, when the lights rose and the anthem faded, Paige stood on the sideline, heart hammering harder than it should have for a regular-season game.

Her eyes scanned the court side seats.

And there you were—smiling, hoodie zipped, knees tucked under your seat, hands wrapped around a drink you probably didn’t even like.

When you waved, Paige forgot the noise. When you mouthed, good luck, she swore it echoed louder than the crowd.

She played with fire in her chest that night.

Sharp. Clear. Blazing.

Because you were watching now.

And Paige had never wanted to impress anyone more in her life.

The lights were brighter tonight.

Maybe it was just the adrenaline. Maybe it was the packed house. But for Paige, it was you.

You, sitting court side in her world.

In a hoodie she didn’t recognize. Legs crossed, head tilted, your eyes tracking her every move. Your body language was calm, casual — like you belonged there.

And maybe you didn’t realize it yet, but to Paige? You absolutely did.

Warmups were different.

Her layups were smoother, sharper. Her handle was a little more flashy than usual — just enough sauce on a behind-the-back to make her teammates raise their brows like, Okay, Bueckers.

She didn’t care.

She glanced over her shoulder after every made shot.

And each time she saw you still watching, still there, still smiling — it lit her up like a floodlight inside.

By tip-off, Paige was already humming.

She didn’t start the game with a pass. She started it with a pull-up three.

Net. No hesitation.

The crowd roared, but her eyes flicked down to you.

You mouthed something. She thought it was damn.

She grinned.

A fast break. She weaved through defenders, long strides and perfect timing. A no-look pass to Arike for the finish.

Arike smacked her shoulder as they jogged back down the court. “You good, Bueckers?”

“Great,” Paige said, breathless.

Her eyes found you again. You were laughing at something someone next to you said, but you looked back just in time to catch her staring.

You didn’t look away.

Neither did she.

Timeout.

Coach was drawing something on the clipboard. Paige was half-listening. Her towel was draped around her neck, her chest rising and falling fast. Sweat clung to her temple.

And still… she looked for you.

You were leaning forward now, elbows on your knees, eyes sharp.

Dialed in.

Seeing you watch her like this — not like a curiosity or a habit, but like someone invested — it rewired something in Paige’s body.

She stood, shook out her legs, and checked back in without a word.

The next possession, she went full showtime.

Spin move. Hesitation. Crossover.

Stepback jumper from the elbow.

The defender reached — missed — and Paige let it fly.

Net. Again.

But she didn’t celebrate.

She didn’t throw her arms up. She didn’t beat her chest.

She just… turned. Jogged backward.

And looked straight at you.

A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth — one only you saw. One for you.

You shook your head like what the hell is she doing to me, and she felt her entire bloodstream flood with heat.

Fourth quarter. Wings up by six.

Paige was loose now. Every cut precise, every pass threaded like needlework. She wasn’t showboating — but she was playing with intention.

Like every move had your name on it.

She wanted you to see her. Not just the girl on the balcony. Not just the girl on the sidewalk. But this version — sharp, focused, in command of everything around her.

You saw her.

And when she hit her final bucket — a dagger three with a minute and a half left — she didn’t even watch the ball go in.

She turned before it landed, eyes locked on you.

You were on your feet. Clapping. Laughing. Glowing.

And Paige felt like she could’ve floated all the way home.

The second the buzzer rang, Paige didn’t hesitate.

She didn’t follow the team toward the bench. She didn’t stop for the high-five line. She didn’t glance at the scoreboard or the cameras closing in on the Wings’ star player with their lenses hungry and waiting.

Instead, she walked directly to you.

You were still standing in the front row, tucked just behind the barrier, a little stunned by the intensity of her performance. You looked flushed from the noise, from the weight of the crowd around you. But your smile—God, your smile was steady.

She stepped around the bench. Past security. Past the media. Her sneakers squeaked slightly as she moved across the hardwood, ponytail damp against the back of her neck, heart beating louder than the arena.

Your eyes caught hers.

And then you laughed—soft and startled—because she didn’t stop walking.

“Hi,” she said, breathless.

“Hi yourself,” you said, grinning. “What the hell was that performance?”

Paige leaned one elbow on the scorer’s table and shrugged. “Felt like showing off a little.”

“For who?” you teased, clearly knowing the answer.

She tilted her head, like the answer was obvious. “You.”

You blinked. That smile tugged at your mouth again, the one that unraveled her from twenty feet away. And then—just slightly—you held up the sticky note she’d left on the court side ticket. Her handwriting, still there.

Thought maybe you’d want to come.

“I did,” you said. “I really did.”

Paige reached out. Not dramatically. Not like a grand romantic gesture. Just… easy. Familiar. Her fingers wrapped gently around your wrist.

“Walk with me?” she asked.

You didn’t answer with words. You just stepped over the small barrier and followed her, like you were always meant to.

The tunnel was cooler than the court, lit in long, clinical strips of white light. But Paige didn’t feel the chill. Not with your hand brushing hers, not with your footsteps echoing beside her in rhythm like they always had—just on pavement instead of hardwood this time.

“You were ridiculous out there,” you murmured. “Seriously. Spin moves? Step backs?”

“Too much?” she asked.

“Kind of unfair, actually.”

She smiled, glancing sideways. “You make me want to be unfair.”

You bumped her shoulder. “Is that your game-day flirting voice?”

“This is my every day flirting voice,” Paige replied, without missing a beat.

Your laughter filled the tunnel.

It sounded better than the cheers had.

Near the locker room entrance, she paused. The media would be let in soon. Her team would be peeling tape off their ankles. She’d get pulled for postgame interviews, stat sheets, questions about her minutes and her shooting percentage.

But right now—there was just this.

She looked at you fully. Like she had on the balcony. Like she had at the fountain. At the smoothie shop. Every single time she’d wished she’d said something sooner.

“You know I don’t just do this,” she said quietly. “Invite people. Let them in like this.”

You nodded, suddenly serious. “I know.”

“But I wanted you here.”

You looked down at her hand, still lightly holding your wrist. You flipped it so your fingers could wrap around hers properly this time.

“I’m glad I came,” you said.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“So, you gonna give me your number now, or are we sticking with sticky notes forever?”

Paige laughed. Bright. Relieved. She pulled out her phone and held it out.

“Here,” she said. “Make it official.”

You typed it in. Smiling. Then handed the phone back.

When Paige looked at your contact name, you’d put it in as Y/N <3

Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m memorable.”

She leaned in slightly, just close enough to catch your breath.

“Yeah,” she said. “You really are.”

The apartment felt different.

Maybe it was always this quiet after games, but Paige had never noticed it. Usually, she was buzzing from the adrenaline, running through plays in her head, FaceTiming family, tossing her jersey into the laundry basket, and collapsing into bed.

But tonight, the only thing she was thinking about… Was you.

You, sitting court side like you’d been there forever. You, waiting for her after the game, smiling like her chaos made sense to you. You, entering your number in her phone with a little smirk like of course I belong here.

Paige sat on her couch, legs tucked under her, hoodie draped around her shoulders. Her hair was still damp. Her knees ached in the way they always did after a big night.

But her chest felt light.

She stared at your name on her screen.

Y/N <3 [Send Message]

Her thumb hovered.

And then… she typed.

Paige: hey. it’s paige, the one from the balcony. thanks for being there tonight.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself. Then locked the screen and tossed her phone on the couch beside her like it burned.

But it buzzed. Almost immediately.

She scrambled to pick it up.

You: you were electric. i’ve never seen anyone look so in control and still that unhinged in the same 40 minutes. it was kinda hot ngl.

Paige laughed—head back, eyes wide, completely undone by how fast you could wreck her with a single sentence.

She typed again.

Paige: okay, ngl i was showing off. not even sorry.

You: you shouldn’t be. you made it very hard to look cool sitting court side while actively swooning.

She bit her lip. Heart hammering. Fingers flying.

Paige: you looked cooler than me. i kept looking for you between plays. couldn’t help it.

There was a pause.

And then your typing bubbles popped back up.

You: you always looked. even before you knew me.

That hit her like a heartbeat.

True. Simple. Real.

She didn’t reply right away.

Instead, she just sat there, thumb tracing your name at the top of the screen.

Y/N <3 — who wasn’t a stranger anymore.

You were here now. In her phone. In her world.

With her.

Her alarm went off at 6:45, and for the first time in weeks… Paige didn’t rush to the balcony.

She didn’t even reach for her hoodie.

Instead, she lay there, staring at the ceiling, heart full and uncertain. Last night felt like something sacred. Like something she wanted to protect with silence and slowness. You’d texted her until nearly 1AM. Dumb jokes. Little moments. A sentence she read over five times, “You don’t look like anyone else when you’re on the court.”

She didn’t know what that meant entirely.

But she wanted to find out.

By 7:10, she finally got up.

No coffee. No performance. Just sweats and a plain white tee, hair tied back, sneakers loose.

She cracked her knuckles and opened the front door to her building, walking slowly down the steps into the stillness of early morning.

And stopped short.

Because there you were.

Leaning against the black railing in front of her building. Hoodie on. One foot crossed over the other. Arms folded. A water bottle dangling from your fingers. Sunlight slicing across your cheekbone.

Waiting.

For her.

You spotted her the second she stepped outside.

“No balcony today?” you teased.

“No need,” Paige said, stunned and grinning. “You came down to earth.”

“I figured it was your turn to be the one surprised.”

“Mission accomplished.”

You started walking without prompting, slow, unhurried steps down the sidewalk in the direction of nowhere.

Paige fell into rhythm beside you.

“I didn’t know you knew where I lived,” she said after a moment.

You looked over. “I’ve been running past it every day for three weeks.”

“I know. I just mean…” She shrugged. “It’s different seeing you standing there.”

“How so?”

“You weren’t moving. For once.” A pause. “You were waiting.”

You nodded. “Yeah. Felt like the right morning for it.”

She smiled at the ground. “I thought that was my job.”

You bumped her shoulder with yours. “We can take turns.”

You walked in easy silence for a while. Past the corner store. Past the mural she’d never noticed until you pointed it out. Past a pair of pigeons fighting over a bagel chunk.

Everything looked lighter. Like the city had exhaled.

“You hungry?” you asked, glancing at her.

“Starving,” she said, hands in her pockets.

You jerked your chin down the block. “There’s a place I know. They make the best breakfast tacos. I’ll buy if you admit you were trying to flirt with that step-back three last night.”

Paige laughed. “Oh, 100%.”

“You’re shameless.”

“You’re the one who showed up.”

You stopped walking for a second.

She turned to face you, just half a step behind.

And you said—quietly, sincerely, “Yeah. And I’m really glad I did.”

Paige didn’t say anything at first.

She just smiled.

And reached out.

Not for your wrist. Not like before.

But your hand.

You took it. No hesitation.

Just warmth.

And every single morning before this one suddenly made perfect sense.

Paige woke up before her alarm again.

But this time, there was no rush.

No need to throw on a hoodie or check the time or stand watch like a sentinel in sneakers. Her body was loose. Her heart, calm. Because she knew you were already here.

In the next room.

In her apartment.

In her life.

You’d stayed late the night before. Tacos, movies, the kind of quiet talking that only happens when the city’s asleep and the lights are dim. You hadn’t spent the night — not yet — but you had fallen asleep briefly curled up beside her on the couch, your head resting against her shoulder, your fingers still lightly intertwined.

She hadn't wanted to move. Ever.

And now, as soft morning light crept across her bedroom floor, Paige slid out of bed, tiptoed through the apartment, and opened the balcony door.

The air smelled clean. Crisp. New.

She stepped outside and sat in the chair that had been hers alone for weeks. The same one where she'd watched you run by and wondered what your voice sounded like. What your name was. What it would feel like to be seen by you.

Now, she didn’t have to wonder.

Because thirty seconds later, her front door clicked softly.

And she heard it—bare feet on wood. The low rustle of a yawn. And your voice, groggy but teasing, “No coffee today?”

Paige turned.

There you were.

Hair messy. Hoodie stolen from her closet. Sleep still clinging to your eyelashes.

Beautiful.

She held up a mug. “I made you one.”

You smiled and stepped outside, folding into the chair beside her — the one that had been empty every morning before now.

You pulled your legs up under yourself, took a sip, and sighed. “Okay. This makes up for you not letting me win in Uno last night.”

“I don’t go easy on people I like.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrow arched. “You like me?”

Paige looked over at you — eyes soft, cheek pressed against her hand.

And nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “I really do.”

You didn’t look away.

Didn’t tease this time.

You just whispered, “Good.”

The street below was waking up slowly.

Someone walked a dog. A runner passed — not you, for once. You both watched in silence, sipping coffee, the city stretching itself awake beneath your feet.

But for once, Paige wasn’t watching the street.

She was watching you.

And this time, she wasn’t waiting.

You were already here.

[revalition]

we've got top surgery in 10 days...! *explodes*

[chainsawworld]

Imalways so torn up between letting myself feel negative emotions besides anger cause I never do and being like wellllllll... it IS nearly 9 so really none of these are Real emotions so what's the point?

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDS Men React To An Unexpected Pregnancy

AN: Pregnant reader. Not the boys. That genre is currently unexplored on this blog but not for long 🤭👺

Pairing: LaDS boys x Fem reader

Ingredients: 75% fluff, 25% angst.

My Fav: Rafayel's (new segment because I want to discuss which ones I liked best when writing)

Xavier:

You pass out during a mission. That’s how you find out. In the Hunter Association’s medical ward, you stare at the positive report in stunned silence.

The nausea hadn’t just been Xavier’s cooking.

How even…? You sit there, frozen, until he walks in, finding you pale and unmoving.

A child.

He leans against the wall, the report in his hand. God.

He had vanished the day he found out. Left you bitterly alone. But you didn’t need him, you could raise the child on your own. If Xavier was too weak to accept the truth, so be it.

But he returns. You don’t know where he went, only that when he comes back, he is broken.

"I couldn't change it." He falls to his knees. "The world remains unchanged," he repeats, voice hollow.

The destruction he had accepted, the grief he had worn like armor, now, it becomes unbearable. Because for the first time, he isn’t sure if he can ever manage to save it for his child.

Rafayel:

He dreams of it. Strange dreams.

He’s not one to obsess over omens, but even he, in his eternal wisdom, cannot decipher what a colony of seals playing with marbles is supposed to mean.

Then, one afternoon, he dreams of a baby seal. It coos at him, glumphing closer, making infant-like noises.

And in the dream, he bends down to pet it. Only for you to pick it up instead.

He jolts awake. Hands immediately over his stomach. Breath unsteady. No...not him...it was you. You picked the seal, that meant-

Then he stumbles out of bed, nearly tripping over himself in his rush to find you.

Drives like a madman. He counts the days. Two months. He counts the signs.

His heart refuses to slow down.

Barging into the Hunter’s Association, he’s chased by guards, by an exasperated receptionist, but none of it matters.

When he finds you, he grips your shoulders, searching your face. How could he have missed it?

By the tides, he was a fool.

And then—he feels it. A whisper, warm and murmuring, like the gentle pull of the waves.

A half-formed yawn, ringing softly in his mind.

The presence of his child.

Now all he has to do is tell you.

Zayne:

You watch Zayne eat dinner, half-listening as he talks about his day. He absentmindedly bites into another baby carrot.

Not just baby carrots, baby corn, baby potatoes, those tiny tomatoes.

"How’s dinner, Zayne?" you ask, feigning nonchalance.

He nods, smiling. "It’s good. Very healthy."

"Notice anything?"

He hums in thought. "You’re trying Italian cuisine these days." He places his hand over yours, gentle. "But you don’t have to cook if you’re tired after work."

He’s too kind to mention the small incident with the oven last week. To be fair, the bun in the oven analogy is a classic.

A week. A whole week of hints, and still, he hasn’t caught on.

Sighing, you give up on subtlety. "Darling, did you visit the pediatrics ward today?" you ask, pushing food around your plate.

"I didn’t have time. Had to miss the volunteering event for surgery."

You grin. Taking his hand, you guide it over your stomach. "Well, luckily for you, we’ll have one right here soon."

His mouth hangs open. Eyes darting between you and your stomach before his fingers brush over the nonexistent bump.

"Really? Are we—"

"Yes, you dummy!" You pull him into a hug. "I’ve been trying to tell you for days."

For a man obsessed with your health, he somehow had been ignorant of the biggest of surprises. Unplanned or not, you were going to give him the longest late night shift of his life.

Sylus:

The timing could have been better, he muses, wiping blood off his cheek.

But he had been too lax.

Not that it mattered. Everything was under control.

"Clean up," he orders, snapping his fingers. Shadows slither forward, dragging the remains of his enemies into the abyss.

The news of a child had changed things. He had let fate play its part for too long. Now, it was his turn.

Whatever slow-moving scheme he had let linger, ended now.

There was no way in hell he was letting you go on any mission while carrying his child.

Aether Core be damned. EVER be damned to NEVER. He would wipe them out if he had to.

For now, though, he had other priorities.

Leaving you safe at home, he finishes this last errand. Your only battle at the moment is morning sickness which, much to his surprise, isn’t just limited to mornings.

He wipes his hands clean, heading for his bike.

One last stop. You wanted pickles.

He smiles, revving the engine. Soon, only cars.

And then, he’s gone, speeding into the night, back to you. Back to his family. To cuddle the little dragon who gives you unrivaled heartburn and kicks like a menace at 18 weeks.

Caleb:

He knew.

Some would say he saw it coming, but just because he kept track of your cycle didn’t mean he could predict your ovulation exactly.

He was just…good at math.

Mental math.

And taking you to a convenience store for cough drops, right next to the pregnancy tests, had been pure coincidence.

Not that he totally snuck a glance at you eyeing them. And if he excused himself to grab a snack right then? Also not planned.

You hand him the test. "I think I’m pregnant."

He goes through all the expressions shock, surprise, joy, tears. So dramatic that it fools no one.

Seriously, he’s atrocious at being subtle about it.

Instantly proposes. Shotgun wedding because the baby will need a family.

Grins like a madman when it turns out to be twins.

Secretly, he’s very, very proud.

Heavens, he thinks smugly, I really am amazing at math.

[sleep-0-deprived]

Yandere male sea nymph x sailor reader drabble~! ૮꒰,,>﹏<,,꒱ა

WC:. 1.8k

Tags: pnp, double penetration, , sea nymphs have two cocks??, filthy smut, dub con, monster slime at as lube, dark themes, anal, mentions of mpreg, monster x human, Amab reader, monster anatomy, bottom male reader, no protection, anal creampies, cw lil blood, belly bulges <333

Taglist: @miyaisastar @asher-is-hotxp @silvern1006 @unstab1eperson2 @yyuinaa @dewday1 @blond3ang3l @creepy141dollie @m4r13ll @ihavezeropancreas @sooobiinn @just-ignore-them @fuckingmxonlight @nightwinglover101 @chasingknives @littlelilithsposts @gayaristocrat @whatupbishs

A/N: M’ sorry if my descriptions of tha monster aren’t accurate, S’ all jus m’ personal thoughts ! ( ≧ᗜ≦)

The feeling of cold water rushes your body all at once- the sea swallowing you up whole along with your ship, your arms reach up trying to make it to the top gasping out in desperate strides feeling the cold liquid fill your lungs when another wave crashes over you bringing you back to square one in the endless fight— this storm wasn’t supposed to come for another week.

You were supposed to have had time to make up enough money to live to last the durations of the storm but it didn’t work out that way seemingly. The sound of a calling filled your ears, it rang loud almost like a high pitch melody of wave splashing over each-other while it rained, the only thing to be seen was a old lighthouse giving light in the distance, you tried to swim closer fighting the tides.

The lighthouse shines light onto the water showing a cove off to the other side. You had no choice but to try to reach it for shelter from the storms before you got drowned and your muscles gave way to the force of the water. The light becomes more distant the further you make it towards the cove, it was dark and wet with the rocks being jagged in places but atleast you were standing on something solid that gave a reminder of the land you were very much missing right now.

“Such a pretty little thing you are”

As soon as you hear a voice your body goes stiff feeling all the blood in your veins just stop pumping, you look around quickly seeing a figure lurking in the darkness of the cove. A strange allure washed over you almost as if the monsters green eyes were calling out to you for you to come towards it?..why were you giving in- before you could think your legs took long strides forwards walking towards the nymph in a trance.

“What are you?”

“I am a creature of the waters, a nymph...I’ve seen you since you set sail on these waters whatever it takes to get you I would’ve- even if I had to rid of you of those wretched men”

“You had something to do with this- my crew is lost because of this”

“I am no god boy, but I do have enough strength to conjure up a storm, whatever I must do to catch you”

The words fell from the creatures lips like venom, his skin was cold to the touch with scales up his arms his face went unseen in the dark but his eyes were always felt he pushed you up against the wall of the wet cove leaving you nothing to grab or hold for comfort, he pressed his mouth to the side of your neck pulling your tunic down enough to expose the s/c flesh.

“You’re mine now- I don’t plan to ever let you escape me”

You felt sharp shark like teeth start to dig into you bringing a trickle of blood that spread across the wet fabric of your shirt. His hands held your hips pulling you back to him holding you against him with no chance of escaping.

The feeling of two lumps pressed to your ass was clear but you were too lost in the hot feeling in your neck, it was painful and rough but it brought pleasure too, his snake like tongue licked over the bite mark licking up the blood like it was ambrosia.

“You’re the sweetest thing to grace my tongue boy”

“Fuck-“

You hiss feeling one of his webbed hands slide down from your hip into your pants grabbing your soft cock and gripping it firm while he kisses your bruised and bitten neck. You buck your hips back into him pressing your ass up against the creature like a needy whore when your body gets forcefully aroused, you couldn’t help it even if it wasn’t in your wants your body reacted- your hormones were high and your body needed this.

You couldn’t even remember when the last time you had been properly fucked was, being out at sea never left the time for sex to be In your life. The sea monsters touches had you feeling like some horny teen all over again when you felt his nail poke at the tender tip of your cock earning a loud hiss to leave your lips. Whatever the two bulges were you rubbed your ass all over them creating friction between the sea nymphs groin and your pants.

“You want it so fucking bad don’t you, don’t even know my face an you already want my cocks”

“Cocks..?”

You could practically feel the grin your confused question got out of him, the kisses and licks on your neck halted but the touches your cock was receiving didn’t, in a moment of desperation you dig your nails into the stone wall of the cove and close your eyes meekly.

“You’ve never been mated by a sea creature, normally we don’t fuck humans but you’re the exception”

His hand slipped off your cock leaving you all stiff and disappointed at the loss of touch, his hands pull your pants down letting them fall around your ankles while he guides you pressing you down bending you over a rock with your cock bobbing between your thighs, then you feel them.

One slimy cock pressed between your cheeks and another between your thighs, you felt glad it was pitch because your mouth was watering at the thought of having them both stuffing you so full! Your rim puckered up like a rose bud expanding and opening again.

One of the monsters hands reaches down pressing between your shoulder blades forcing you to be pressed flat down against the rock all defenseless while the slickness tip of his first cock prods its way past your gummy walls making you cry out in pain and pleasure, you felt so full and on fire all at once arching your back deep.

“You’re as tight as a virgin aren’t you”

He coos out while you try to adjust to the size not being given any time before the sea monster starts fucking into you with his other cock slapping all hard against your thigh dripping precum and slime all over the floor of the cove, your walls open up wide accepting the cock that was being forced inside rubbing every ridge of your cavern, he was exploring you and groaning. The hand on your back sliding down back to your hip to hold it.

“O-h- hm so big~”

You can practically feel your stomach expand when you take his cock getting pulled back and fucked into it, you start rolling your hips giving a little wiggle to your ass trying to get him to fuck you harder while you pout and let your eyes rock back into your head. The sounds of waves from the outside becomes background noise compared to the moans that rolled off your tongue, you were splaying yourself in a wanton way on his dick.

“Don’t start acting like a girl in a pleasure house on me here- you’re a sailor act like one”

The words fall from his lips cooing and cunning leaving down with his hot breath on your neck pounding away at your insides having your hole stretched now taking him with ease. Your cock was painfully hard and untouched and you wanted to whine and complain of it but you felt his hand slipping down to his second cock pushing it against your pucker.

“T’mush- t’mush it huurts-!”

“Shh you can take it, I know you can”

Your mind becomes mush feeling your body taking more than it ever has before making your legs go like jello, if it wasn’t for the rock you were in top you would’ve fallen to the ground from how weak you felt. Once both cocks make their way inside you, the bulge in your stomach was unnatural almost looking knocked up with the monsters slime being used as lube dripping down your thighs on your balls all messy getting on the floor of the cove while his hand finally works its way to your cock pressing his chest to your back making out with your neck.

“Your hole is so greedy, you think it wants a baby. Is that what it is, do you need a few eggs inside you?”

“Close- so close”

You do your best to muster up coherent words feeling weak ready to cum at any moment, the two cocks split you open leaving you with a sense of knowing that you’ll never feel as stuffed in another man’s cock as you feel with his.

“You can cum all you want but I’m not stopping until I finish”

The sea creatures words make you pout a little leaking like a faucet in his hand with your neck drenched in his saliva having York prostate rammed and nailed into harshly making you jolt forward each time you feel him. Your rim starts burning again from being spread for so long but the pleasure is so high you can’t seem to care about the pain- the only thing in your mind anymore is orgasming.

He knew you were close when your walls clenched up tight and started spamming, shortly after hot ropes spurt from your tip making a mess on the rock. The thrusts continued in sync with his strokes, the nymph milked your cock like a milk cow getting the last drops out of you leaving your cock used up and tender twitching warmly in his palm.

“Gods, just look at the way you’re swallowing me boy, you’re hole is so greedy for dick”

You feel the vibrations of his groan against your neck. The way the veins on his cocks start to rub against your insides more harshly fucking you like he needs it, you can tell he’s on the verge and you can’t bring yourself to mind the thought..if he’s a monster then is his seed potent enough to give you a baby?..do you want to have his baby?

Your thoughts are cut short by the feeling of his first cock pressing to your prostate flooding you with thick ropes like he was trying to stuff a womb, his hips stutter pressing flushed against your ass holding still before his other cock starts shooting cum inside you bloating you up from the seed stuffing you.

Your insides overflow feeling cum dripping out of your ass down your thighs mixing in with his slime making a mess but his hands hold your waist letting your cock go as he presses as close as he can and continues humping his cum inside you.

You feel the cocks inside you twitching— they were already hard again and ready for the next round, you don’t know if you can take it you’re already so fucked out with your eyes glossed over, your hole so wrecked it can’t clench properly.

“You can take it, I’ve been waiting so long for you I can’t even help it mortal”

His voice sounded feral, you knew you weren’t going to find a way out of this one.

[1-800-adore-me]

Quickies are never possible with Caleb .

🍎nsfw warning (18+) + tags:, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names (baby, honey, sweetie/sweetheart, princess, etc…), biting, praise kink, big cock, deep creampie, overstimulation, inappropriate usage of Caleb’s evol [ 1.3k words | porn without plot ] [A/N: i really want to write about Caleb using his mechanical arm...]

Here’s the thing that you quickly realized with Caleb ever since the two of you have became intimate: You could never do quickies with him. 

And it is very hard to say no to quickies when it comes to Caleb, especially with those big puppy eyes of his. It’s that sweet voice that he possesses that can easily fog your judgement. “Just 5 minutes, princess. It’s all I ask for, okay? I won’t take long, sweetie. I just- I just need you right now, yeah? Understand me, sweetheart? I just need to feel you real quick and we can get going, okay?” 

And who were you to deny him? Ever since you guys were little, you were always weak to his wishes. If Gran asked if you wanted to go to the grocery store with her and get some snacks, you would say no - giving an excuse of something like: “I’m tired” or “I have homework to do.”

Oh, but if Caleb asked you to? It didn’t matter if you pulled 2 all-nighters straight to study for an exam or if you barely woke up a minute ago, you were already rushing to put on your clothes and head out. Sure, you’d complain about how he decided to go at an inconvenient time but really, you were just happy to be by his side. With that sweet smile of his that is only seen with you, it felt like you needed nothing else from the world. 

Which is why Caleb was currently drilling his big, thick cock inside your sopping wet cunt right now. This all happened because you couldn’t muster a simple “no” to his request after he walked in on you changing after a shower. You knew that your period was going to come soon so in order to prepare for it, you shaved your pubic hair so it wouldn’t get too messy down there. Just when you were slipping on your underwear, Caleb walked in to see the sight of your plush, bare pussy. It began with a simple - “Just let me feel you, baby. Just real quick, okay? I’ll even wash you again after.”

Perhaps you wanted this to happen as well because if you were stronger, you could’ve easily said ‘no’. But was it really your fault that his voice was just so irresistible? 

“Aah-...! Haahn- C-Caleb! Caleb…!” His name, along with your dirty moans, were the only sounds that could be made from your drooling mouth. He was on top of you, relentlessly pumping his hard cock in and out of your pussy that was just gushing juices everytime his shaft pulled out of you. He thought that it was so cute that your cunt didn’t want to let go of him. 

“What is it, princess?” He’d say in a playful tone, chuckling as he did so. “What do you want me for, baby? You’re saying my name so much… You always say my name so pretty.” He teased the opening of your mouth with his thumb, which you then began sucking as if he had another cock. You could see that his eyes darkened with lust as you licked and teased his tongue before enveloping your soft lips around his digit. 

When he dragged his cock out of your pussy, only leaving his thick tip inside, before bucking his hips forward and shoving it all back inside, you bit down on his thumb to contain your cries. He hissed at the pain, letting out another rich chuckle from his throat. 

“You want to give me another bite mark again, honey? Go ahead, give me everything you have. I’ll take it all so long as it’s you.” He pressed his pelvis closer to yours, trying to get deeper into your cunt. You could feel him reaching the depths of your sobbing pussy and the only thing that you could do was take all of Caleb inside of you. Along with that, he decided to torture you by rubbing your swollen clit with his large, big fingers. Your soft walls clenched around his thickness as you began squirting now - your mouth opening to let out a cry.

Your squirts began dirtying his abs, soaking it with all of your slick and wetness. He let out a dark laughter, satisfied by your adorable reaction to him fucking the shit out of you. 

Caleb continued to fuck you as you orgasmed, enjoying the feeling of your walls getting wetter and tighter with every spasm he forced out of you. He felt delirious now, moaning as he felt you give him everything you had from your cunt. - “Fuuck, baby… You feel so fucking good inside. You’re taking my big cock so good with your pretty ltitle cunt, honey.” You tried to get up and slap away his hand in order to stop the overstimulation but you quickly felt his evol stopping you - forcing you to stay in your current position. You were just a fuckdoll laying down on his bed, forced to take whatever torture he wished to lay on you. 

You started sobbing as he didn’t stop thrusting inside of you nor did he stop his fingers from playing with your swollen bundle of nerves. Your hips began squirming down and you, yourself, were unsure if you really wanted him to stop or not. 

He leaned down to start to kiss you, tasting all of the sweet gummies that he had bought you earlier. One of his free hands intertwined itself with yours, a kind gesture that contrasted how brutal his thrusts were. He was fucking you into the mattress, as if he was trying to get inside your womb room.

The sound of skin slapping against another rang out in his bedroom, along with your cries and moans that you couldn’t help let out. - “Be a good girl for me and cum again, princess. Who’s making you cum? Say my name again with that pretty mouth of yours.” And in response, you moaned out his name again as if it was the only word you knew. Happy with your response, he dragged out his cock until the tip was the only thing left inside, and then slammed it inside of you again. A wet plap! noise was heard, along with your screams. The mattress underneath you was absolutely drenched with cum, slick, and squirt - all because Caleb needed to see you be absolutely ruined underneath him. 

“-Mmph… mmm! Baby, I’m so close… I’m gonna go fast now, okay? I’ll let it all in your baby room, sweetheart. Let’s make a cute baby, yeah?” He said against your neck as he began suckling the sensitive skin and nipping at it with his teeth. You weren’t even sure if you could cover them with your Hunter uniform as he began biting the very center of your throat, making you squirm against his evol. His hold on your hand tightened as you felt his brutal pace began going faster. You could feel his cock begin pulsating as he released his seed deep inside of you, pumping in a few last thrusts into your abused pussy in order to make sure that your womb was drinking every single last drop of his precious cum. He whispered your name against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. - “So good, you feel so fucking good… You’re milking me, honey…”

The feeling of his thick cum filling you up made you begin squirting again as you both climaxed together. Your poor abused cunt was grinding against his cock still inside of you, the both of you moaning as you rode your orgasms. 

When you felt Caleb release his evol, you sat up and grabbed his face - kissing him deeply as you craved his every person. You needed him more than ever as your mind slowly became more delirious as well. 

He chuckled against your lips as you two took a small break to breathe. “Looks like someone is ready for round two then?” 

Perhaps this was why you would never believe Caleb asking you for quickies. 

[021894s]

LOVE NEXT DOOR - p.sh

SUMMARY: After discovering your fiancé’s infidelity, you leave behind the life you’d built in the U.S. and return to Korea to stay with your parents. The familiar streets and faces bring a bittersweet nostalgia, but nothing compares to reuniting with Sunghoon, your childhood best friend. He’s different now—more reserved, maybe a bit colder. While he tries to bury the feelings he thought he’d left in the past, being around you stirs something in him that he can’t ignore. And as you start to find comfort in each other again, you both realize that some feelings never truly fade.

PAIRING: childhood bsf! sunghoon x f!reader

WARNINGS: smut (oral m and f receiving, unprotected sex), angst, denial, mentions of cheating

wc: 20k

You’re not sure what you expected when you walked into your apartment that day. You’d left early for a business trip—an opportunity too good to pass up, even if it meant being away from Daniel for a few days. The wedding was only a month away, and you’d been looking forward to everything finally settling into place. You’d imagined your life with him so many times: your wedding day, the honeymoon, the house you’d live in together, the family you’d build. It was all supposed to be perfect.

But as you pushed open the bedroom door, the world you’d been building shattered.

There they were, tangled in sheets that were meant for the two of you. Daniel's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't even bother scrambling for an excuse. You felt your chest tighten, each heartbeat a hammer against your ribs. For a moment, you stood frozen, every emotion rushing through you all at once—anger, betrayal, disgust, disbelief. The room, filled with their hurried whispers and excuses, began to spin, and you could hardly breathe.

You’d spent countless hours planning your future together, from the lace details on your wedding dress to the way you’d wear your hair. You had been so meticulous, imagining every little moment, every dance, every vow. Now, each of those dreams felt like a cruel joke. The engagement ring on your finger suddenly felt heavy, almost suffocating, a symbol of the love and trust that had been so easily shattered.

You weren’t supposed to be home. The thought lingers as you stand in the doorway, frozen, watching the scene unfold in front of you. Daniel, the man you were supposed to marry in a month, is tangled in your sheets with another woman. His face pales, and he stumbles over himself, trying to sit up, as if there’s any explanation that could possibly make this right.

“Y/N, I can explain,” he starts, throwing on the shirt that had been discarded on the floor. His voice is a mix of desperation and guilt.

“Explain?” you manage, though your throat feels tight, your voice barely a whisper. You feel like you’re in a daze, like this can’t possibly be real. “You’re in our bed, Daniel. The bed where we—” You choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence. Everything you’d built with him, all the dreams and plans, now feel hollow and meaningless.

He takes a step toward you, but you instinctively back away. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. It was a mistake, Y/N. Please, just let me—”

“A mistake?” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound foreign even to yourself. “We’re supposed to get married in a month, Daniel. A month! I was planning our wedding while you were—” You stop, shaking your head as the reality of it all starts to sink in. “Did you ever even care about us? About me?”

“Of course I did,” he says, his voice cracking. But there’s a hollowness in his words, one that you can’t unhear now.

“Don’t,” you interrupt, holding up your hand to stop him. “Just… don’t. I trusted you. I thought you loved me.” The weight of the engagement ring on your finger feels unbearable now, as if it’s mocking you, reminding you of every lie he’s ever told. You pull it off and toss it onto the bed, where it lands with a soft thud. “Keep it. I don’t want it anymore.”

He reaches for you, his hand outstretched, but you step back. “Y/N, please, don’t go. We can fix this—”

“Fix this?” You laugh again, the sound almost hysterical. “There’s nothing left to fix, Daniel. You ruined it. You ruined us.” The finality of your words hangs in the air, and for the first time, he seems to understand that this is it. You’re done.

Without another word, you turn and walk out, leaving behind the life you’d once believed in, the future you’d painstakingly planned. And as you step outside into the fresh air, you feel a strange sense of relief mixed with the ache of betrayal. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The hotel room is cold and impersonal, nothing like the home you’d shared with him. As you sit on the edge of the bed, you feel the weight of everything crashing down on you. You’re alone, truly alone, in a way you haven’t been since you first moved to the U.S. Daniel was supposed to be your constant, the one person you could rely on in this foreign place. Now, it all feels like a lie.

You clutch a pillow to your chest, trying to hold yourself together as the realization sinks in. You gave up so much to be with him, to build a life together. You left behind friends, family, and a whole world you knew, all for someone who didn’t care enough to stay faithful. The emptiness that fills you is overwhelming, and for the first time in a long time, you feel lost.

The next day, you return to your shared apartment. The place feels different now—tainted, like a ghost of the life you thought you had. You walk through each room, collecting your things in a daze, each item a painful reminder of a future that no longer exists.

In the bedroom, you pause, glancing at the photos on the nightstand. One of them is from the day he proposed, your faces beaming with happiness that now feels so far away. You grab the picture frame and toss it into a box, the glass cracking as it hits the other items. It feels oddly satisfying.

Once you’ve packed everything, you head to work for what you know will be the last time. The office is buzzing with the usual hum of conversations and keyboard clicks, but it all feels distant, like you’re watching it from the outside.

You find your boss in his office, and he looks up as you walk in. “Y/N, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. How was the trip?”

You force a smile, though it barely reaches your eyes. “The trip was fine, but I need to talk to you about something.”

He senses the seriousness in your tone and gestures for you to sit. “What’s going on?”

Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself. “I’m resigning. Effective immediately.”

He blinks, surprised. “Are you sure? I mean, you have such a promising future here, and—”

“I’m going back to Korea,” you say, cutting him off. “There’s… there’s nothing left for me here.” You swallow hard, fighting back the tears threatening to fall. “I need to go home.”

He nods slowly, seeming to understand that this isn’t just a spur-of-the-moment decision. “I’m sorry to hear that, Y/N. We’ll miss you around here.”

The finality of it all feels like a release, and as you walk out of the office for the last time, you feel a strange mix of sadness and relief. You’re leaving behind everything you’d built, but you’re also walking away from the pain, from the betrayal. It’s time to start over, to find yourself again. And you know exactly where you need to be.

With your suitcases in hand, you leave the apartment, the job, and the life you’d once loved, and head for the airport. This time, you’re going home—for good.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The plane ride back to Korea feels like a dream—a hazy, surreal blur where the reality of what’s happened hasn’t quite caught up with you. You stare out the window, watching as the city below grows closer, the familiar landscape bringing a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. You’re going home, but not for the reasons you ever imagined.

You feel a wave of apprehension mixed with relief. You hadn’t planned on returning home so abruptly, with nothing but a suitcase and a broken heart, and you certainly hadn’t told anyone. You let yourself imagine how surprised your parents will be when you show up at the door unannounced. But you push the thought aside as you step into a cab, the familiar cityscape passing by in a blur.

The familiar street feels almost surreal as you pull up to your parents’ house, the one you haven’t seen in years. After everything that’s happened, this was the only place that felt like it could hold you together. As you step out of the cab and stand in front of the door, the weight of your decision settles over you. 

You take a deep breath and ring the bell. you stand at the door, hesitating. You haven’t been here in so long, and everything looks just as it did before—yet somehow different. The door swings open to reveal your mother’s shocked face.

“Y/N?” she gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “Is it really you?”

“It’s me, Mom,” you say, managing a small smile as she pulls you into a tight hug. 

“Oh, honey!” She squeezes you, almost as if to make sure you’re real, then steps back, looking you over with a mixture of joy and worry. “What are you doing here? We didn’t know you were coming!”

“I know. I wanted it to be a surprise.” You look over her shoulder to see your father standing in the doorway, his expression just as bewildered.

“Well, come in, come in!” Your mother ushers you inside, closing the door behind you. Your father wraps you in a quick hug, his grip firm but gentle.

“What brings you back home so suddenly?” he asks, his voice tinged with concern. “We thought you’d be busy with wedding plans.”

Your heart skips a beat, but you keep your expression steady. “Yeah… I just needed to get away for a bit. I missed you both.”

Your mother gives you a searching look, sensing there’s more to the story. “But your wedding is only a month away. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Daniel and I decided to take a break. I just needed some space to think, so I thought it’d be nice to come home for a while.”

Your parents exchange glances, their worry deepening. “A break?” your father echoes. “This close to the wedding?”

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself against the wave of emotion that threatens to break through. “Yeah, it was a last-minute decision. But I promise, it’s nothing to worry about. I just… needed to clear my head.”

Your mother reaches out and takes your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “We’re here for you, sweetheart. You know that, right?”

“I know.” You squeeze her hand, grateful for their presence. “I just needed to be here. With you.”

Your father nods, his expression softening. “Well, you’re always welcome here. For as long as you need.”

 They settle into the familiar rhythm of conversation, asking about your flight and your plans, you find a small sense of comfort in their voices. But beneath it all, you can feel the questions they aren’t asking, the truths you’re not yet ready to share. For now, you let their warmth surround you, clinging to it like a lifeline in the storm you’re still navigating alone.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

As the night settles in, you find yourself standing in the doorway of your childhood bedroom, heart pounding. It feels both familiar and foreign, the walls adorned with posters of your teenage dreams and the desk still cluttered with relics of late-night study sessions. You push the door open, stepping inside and allowing the memories to wash over you. 

The bed is made, just as you left it all those years ago, with the comforter patterned in pastel colors and stuffed animals peeking out from under the pillows. You take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of your childhood—the faint hint of lavender air freshener mixed with the familiar aroma of old books. It’s comforting and painful all at once.

You sit on the edge of the bed, your mind drifts back to nights spent cramming for exams, the soft glow of the desk lamp illuminating pages of notes and textbooks. You remember laughing with your friends during late-night study sessions, the sound of their voices filling the air as you all shared dreams and plans for the future. Those were simpler times, before life became a tangled web of expectations and disappointments.

With each memory, a wave of nostalgia crashes over you, but the pain of your recent reality looms just beneath the surface. You can almost hear the echoes of your younger self, confident and excited about the future. Now, you feel like a shadow of that person, haunted by the weight of betrayal.

You shake your head, forcing a smile as you pull out your pajamas from your suitcase. No sense in dwelling on the past. You need to maintain the strong front you’ve put on for your parents. They deserve to see you as the daughter who’s come home, not the girl whose world has crumbled in a matter of weeks.

As you change into your pajamas, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror—your eyes tired and a hint of sadness in your smile. But you quickly brush it aside, reminding yourself that you can’t let them see how vulnerable you feel. Your parents have already expressed their concerns; you can’t burden them with the truth just yet. You don’t want to break their hearts with the reality of why you’re here.

Slipping under the covers, you take a moment to appreciate the softness of the sheets, the way they wrap around you like a warm embrace. You lie back, staring at the ceiling, and allow your thoughts to wander. You think of Daniel, of the way everything fell apart so quickly, and the ache in your chest sharpens. But you breathe through it, determined not to let the tears spill over.

Instead, you focus on the memories that fill this room, allowing yourself a brief moment of comfort before the darkness creeps back in. You can hear your mother’s soft footsteps in the hallway, her gentle voice drifting through the walls as she chats with your father. They’re worried about you, and you know it. But you refuse to let them see the cracks in your facade. 

You close your eyes, the past and present collide in a whirlwind of emotion, but you push the chaos aside, seeking solace in the familiarity of your childhood sanctuary. Here, in this room, you can hold on to the illusion of safety, if only for a little while longer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next morning, you wake up to the smell of something familiar—your mother’s cooking. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the simplicity of it, the warmth of home wrapping around you like a blanket. You push back the covers and head downstairs, where you find her bustling around the kitchen, setting the table like she used to when you were in high school.

“Good morning,” she says brightly as she sees you, her smile wide and welcoming. “I made your favorite—jeon and kimchi jjigae. Figured you could use a nice breakfast after that long flight.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You slide into a chair at the table, the normalcy of the moment grounding you. It’s almost like the old days when everything was so simple—just you, your parents, and a quiet morning before the day truly began.

She sets a plate down in front of you, the scene feels like something out of the past. The kitchen hasn’t changed, with the same floral curtains and the light clinking of dishes filling the quiet space. It’s peaceful, almost enough to make you forget why you’re back.

You both fall into an easy conversation—talking about small things like the weather, what’s been happening in the neighborhood, and her latest gardening projects. She doesn’t press about Daniel or the wedding, and you’re thankful for the reprieve. You’re determined to keep up this front, to act like everything’s fine, at least for now.

Just as you start to relax into the conversation, the front door flies open with a loud bang, and a familiar voice cuts through the morning calm.

“Y/N!”

You look up just as Yeji storms into the kitchen, her expression a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“How could you not tell me you were coming back?” she demands, standing with her hands on her hips as she glares at you in mock offense. “I had to hear it from our mom’s call this morning! Do you know how betrayed I feel right now?”

You blink in surprise, a guilty smile tugging at your lips. “Yeji, I—”

“Unbelievable,” she cuts you off, shaking her head. “I thought we were best friends! You’re lucky I love you.”

She strides over and pulls you into a tight hug before you can finish your sentence. You laugh softly, hugging her back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t tell anyone. It was a last-minute thing.”

Yeji pulls away and gives you a playful glare. “You owe me, big time.”

Your mother, who has been watching this entire exchange with an amused smile, shakes her head. “I told her she should’ve called you first,” she teases, glancing between the two of you.

Yeji crosses her arms, looking at you expectantly. “Well, you’re here now, so spill. What’s going on? Why the sudden return?”

You feel the weight of her question hang in the air, but before you can figure out how to answer, your mom steps in.

“Let her eat first, Yeji,” she chides gently. “She just got here yesterday.”

Yeji grumbles, taking a seat next to you with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. But after breakfast, you better be ready to talk. No way you’re getting out of this.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of her friendship wrap around you, even as you dread the inevitable questions. For now, though, you focus on the food in front of you, allowing the conversation to flow around you like it used to—just another morning in the house where everything was simple.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

“Im heading to the market to get stuff I need for tonight’s dinner. I’ll be back in a little,” Your mom tells you, walking out the door and closing it behind her.

Yeji narrows her eyes, tapping her fingers on the table. “Okay, Y/N. Enough stalling. Why are you really back? This close to the wedding? What’s going on with you and Daniel?”

You feel your stomach tighten, but you keep your face neutral, cutting a piece of pancake as if her question hasn’t hit you like a punch to the gut. “I told you, I just wanted to visit. I missed everyone.”

Yeji isn’t convinced. “Y/N, don’t give me that. You didn’t even tell me you were coming back, and you’re usually texting me about every little thing. Now you show up out of nowhere, and we’re supposed to believe this is just a friendly visit?”

You meet her gaze, your heart pounding, but you force yourself to stay calm. “It is. There’s nothing else to it.”

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Come on. You and I both know something’s up. Was there a fight? Did Daniel do something?”

You shake your head quickly. “Yeji, really. I just needed a break. That’s all.”

Yeji stares at you for a moment longer, waiting for you to crack, but when you don’t, she throws her hands up in defeat. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But mark my words, I’ll get it out of you one way or another.”

You breathe a silent sigh of relief as she finally drops the topic. You’re not ready to talk about Daniel, or the betrayal that shattered everything. Not yet.

Yeji leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Anyway, speaking of things you haven’t told me… have you seen Sunghoon yet?”

The question takes you off guard, and you look at her, surprised. “Sunghoon?”

“Yeah,” Yeji says, eyeing you with a knowing smirk. “Your other childhood bestie? The one who’s still very much around? He lives next door, you know.”

You fidget with your fork, feeling an odd mix of emotions stir at the mention of his name. “No, I haven’t seen him yet.”

Yeji tilts her head. “Really? You’ve been here since yesterday and haven’t run into him? That’s weird. He’s practically part of your family.”

You shrug, trying to appear indifferent. “I got in late, and I’ve been busy with unpacking. It’s not that surprising.”

Yeji chuckles. “He’s going to be so mad you didn’t tell him you were coming back either. You’ve got a lot of explaining to do, Y/N.”

You manage a small laugh, though the thought of seeing Sunghoon after all these years sends a small flutter of anxiety through you. Things with him had always been comfortable, easy, but after so long apart, you’re not sure what to expect. And after everything that’s happened with Daniel, the idea of facing someone who knows you so well feels almost too raw.

“Well, good luck with that,” Yeji says, giving you a teasing smile. “You know how he is. He’s probably going to give you the cold shoulder for a bit.”

You force a grin, though you’re already dreading the inevitable reunion. “Yeah. I guess I’ll deal with that when it happens.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that afternoon, feeling a bit restless from being inside all morning, you decide to take a walk to the nearby convenience store. The air is crisp and cool, and the quiet hum of the neighborhood feels calming. It’s the kind of peace you missed during your years abroad, and for a moment, you let yourself relax, letting the familiar surroundings ease your mind.

As you approach the store, lost in thought, you nearly bump into someone coming out. You step back, about to apologize, when you realize who it is. Sunghoon.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you take in the sight of him. He looks the same, yet somehow different. Taller, more mature. His dark hair falls slightly over his eyes, and he’s dressed casually in a hoodie and jeans, holding a bag of snacks in one hand. But it’s his expression that catches you off guard—cool, almost indifferent, as his eyes meet yours.

“Sunghoon?” you say, trying to mask the awkwardness creeping into your voice. “I didn’t think I’d run into you here.”

He blinks, a brief flicker of surprise crossing his face before it quickly fades into something more guarded. “Y/N,” he says, his tone even. “I heard you were back.”

There’s no warmth in his voice, no hint of the familiarity you used to share. The coldness of his reaction makes your stomach drop, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say.

“Yeah… I came back yesterday.” You offer a small, tentative smile, hoping to ease the tension. “It was kind of a last-minute thing.”

Sunghoon nods, but his expression doesn’t change. “I figured.”

You stand there awkwardly, the weight of the unspoken tension between you heavier than you expected. This wasn’t how you thought it would go. He used to be one of your closest friends, someone you could talk to about anything. Now, it feels like you’re standing in front of a stranger.

“Have you been okay?” you ask, trying to bridge the gap between you.

“Yeah, I’ve been fine.” His answer is short, clipped, as if he’s not interested in small talk.

The coldness in his voice stings, and you can’t help but wonder if your sudden disappearance all those years ago had more of an impact on him than you realized. “It’s good to see you,” you offer, even though you’re not sure if it’s true anymore. “I’ve missed everyone.”

“Right.” He looks past you, as if already ready to leave. “Well, welcome back.”

That’s it? No questions, no catching up, just… this? You feel your chest tighten, the conversation feeling colder by the second. 

“Thanks,” you manage to say, trying not to let his aloofness get to you. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

Sunghoon shrugs, his expression unreadable. “Maybe.” 

With that, he steps past you, walking away without another word, leaving you standing there, feeling strangely hollow. You watch him go, the distance between you now more than just physical. It’s like there’s a wall where there used to be a connection, and you’re not sure how—or if—you’ll ever break through it again.

After your brief and awkward run-in with Sunghoon, you continue into the convenience store, your thoughts swirling. The encounter had left you unsettled—more than you wanted to admit. You’d expected maybe a little awkwardness after all these years, but not this cold, indifferent version of Sunghoon. The Sunghoon you remembered was always warm, protective, quick to tease you. Now, it felt like he couldn’t care less that you were back.

You absentmindedly browse the aisles, picking up a few snacks and bottled water, you replay the conversation in your head. Every curt response, every emotionless glance. Was he mad? Hurt? Or had he just moved on with his life so much that your return didn’t even register? You didn’t expect everything to fall back into place after so many years, but you certainly didn’t expect this.

You make your way to the counter, trying to push the thoughts away. Maybe it’s better not to overthink it. You’ve only been back for a day—things might take time to feel normal again. Or maybe you’ve just been gone too long.

The cashier rings up your items, and you pay before stepping back outside into the cool autumn air. The sky is a soft gray, and a slight breeze carries the scent of falling leaves, a reminder that some things, at least, remain the same.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

On your way back home, your mind drifts to everything that’s happened in the last few days. You’d been so focused on escaping Daniel, on putting distance between you and the life you’d built with him in the U.S., that you hadn’t really prepared yourself for how different everything might be back here. 

You shake your head. This wasn’t the time to spiral. One thing at a time.

When you reach your house, you feel a bit lighter, the familiarity of home giving you a sense of stability. As you open the door and step inside, your mother is in the living room, flipping through a magazine.

“Hey, sweetie,” she greets with a smile, glancing up at you. “Did you get what you needed?”

“Yeah, just a few things,” you reply, holding up the bag. “Thought I’d take a walk.”

“Good. It’s nice to have you back home.” She pats the seat next to her on the couch, and you sit down, the warmth of the house and her presence comforting.

You try to focus on the moment, pushing aside the confusing encounter with Sunghoon for now. But it lingers in the back of your mind, like an unresolved thread, tugging at you no matter how hard you try to ignore it.

One day at a time, you remind yourself. You came back to Korea to heal. Whatever happens with Sunghoon—or anything else—will have to wait.

As you settle into the couch next to your mom, you finally let yourself relax a little. The warmth of the house, the quiet rhythm of the afternoon—it almost feels normal. But as you sit there, your mom glances at you with a casual smile, one that makes you wary.

“Oh, I forgot to mention,” she says, flipping the magazine shut. “Sunghoon and his parents are coming over for dinner tonight.”

You freeze, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of the couch. “What?”

“Yeah,” your mom continues, completely unaware of the tension that suddenly grips you. “I’ve been meaning to invite them over, and I thought it’d be nice to have a little family dinner now that you’re back. You know how close we are with them.”

Your mind races. You had barely survived your run-in with Sunghoon at the convenience store, and now you were supposed to sit through an entire dinner with him? After how cold and distant he’d been? The thought alone makes your stomach twist.

“Tonight?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even.

“Mm-hmm,” your mom says, already getting up to head toward the kitchen. “I’m going to start prepping soon. It’ll be fun, don’t you think? Just like old times.”

Fun wasn’t exactly the word you’d use. “Mom, I—”

Before you can come up with an excuse, she’s already busy listing out dishes. “I was thinking we’d do something simple. Maybe some bulgogi, kimchi, a few side dishes. Oh, and that japchae you love. Sunghoon always liked that, too.”

You rub your temples, feeling the weight of the situation settle on your shoulders. There was no getting out of this. Your mom had clearly put thought into this dinner, and after being away for so long, you didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

“Yeah… sounds great,” you manage to say, though your enthusiasm is clearly lacking.

“Perfect! I’ll get started now. Why don’t you help me later with the table?” she says cheerfully, disappearing into the kitchen.

You sit there, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that in just a few hours, you’ll be sitting across from Sunghoon at dinner—awkward silences, tense glances, and all. You’d thought you could avoid him for a while, at least until you figured out how to talk to him, but it seems the universe had other plans.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Dinner time arrives faster than you’d hoped, and the pit in your stomach grows heavier with each passing minute. You spent the last hour helping your mom set the table, the familiar routine of laying out chopsticks and plates doing little to calm your nerves. Every time you hear a sound outside, your heart jumps, anticipating their arrival.

Finally, there’s a knock at the door, followed by your father’s cheerful voice as he greets Sunghoon and his parents. You force a steadying breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable as they step inside.

“Come in, come in,” your mom calls from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel as she moves to greet them.

You stay rooted by the table, trying not to let your unease show. When you glance up, your eyes meet Sunghoon’s. His face is impassive, and though his parents are all smiles, he barely acknowledges you beyond a polite nod.

“Y/N,” his mother beams, walking over to give you a warm hug. “It’s so wonderful to see you back home! You look so grown-up. How long has it been?”

You muster a smile as you hug her back. “It’s been a while, yeah. I’ve missed being here.”

Sunghoon’s dad shakes your hand with a broad smile. “You were always such a good kid. Your parents must be thrilled to have you back.”

You nod, trying to keep the conversation light as you exchange pleasantries with Sunghoon’s parents. Meanwhile, Sunghoon himself stands near the doorway, hands in his pockets, looking anywhere but at you. The coldness from earlier lingers between you, thick and uncomfortable.

Your mom ushers everyone to the dining table, her excitement palpable as she serves the food. “Let’s all sit! It’s so nice to have everyone together again.”

You find yourself seated across from Sunghoon, who remains quiet as the meal begins. His parents chat easily with your parents, exchanging updates on family matters and local gossip. You try to join in, but it’s hard to focus when you can feel Sunghoon’s presence directly in front of you, the weight of his silence pressing down.

At one point, his father glances at you, his smile genuine. “So, Y/N, how long are you planning to stay? I’m sure you’ve got a busy life back in the States, with the wedding and all.”

You freeze, the mention of the wedding making your chest tighten. You’d hoped it wouldn’t come up, but of course, it was inevitable. All eyes turn to you, and you feel Sunghoon’s gaze on you now, sharp and watchful.

“Oh… I’m not sure yet,” you answer, trying to keep your voice steady. “I haven’t really figured everything out.”

His mother looks over, curious. “Aren’t you worried about the wedding? It’s only a month away, right?”

You swallow hard, avoiding Sunghoon’s gaze, which feels like a dagger from across the table. “I… I decided to take some time off. You know, to clear my head before everything gets hectic.”

Your parents exchange glances but don’t press further, sensing that there’s more to the story than you’re letting on. Sunghoon’s mother, however, isn’t as easily deterred.

“Well, I’m sure Daniel’s missing you terribly,” she says with a laugh, clearly unaware of the tension her words cause. “You two must be so excited about the big day!”

You feel your throat tighten, your fingers gripping the edge of your plate. Before you can figure out how to respond, Sunghoon finally speaks.

“Maybe we should give Y/N a break,” he says, his tone low but unmistakably cold. “She just got back. No need to bombard her with questions about her wedding.”

Everyone goes silent for a moment, the shift in his tone catching them off guard. You glance up, surprised by his sudden defense of you, but when your eyes meet, his expression remains unreadable. 

His mother blinks, a bit flustered. “Oh, of course. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine,” you say quickly, trying to smooth over the tension. “Really. I just needed some time to think.”

Your father clears his throat, steering the conversation to a different topic, but the air remains thick with unspoken words. As dinner continues, you can’t help but glance at Sunghoon, who stays quiet for the rest of the meal, his face hard, distant.

By the time dessert rolls around, you’re exhausted from keeping up the act. You want nothing more than to escape this table, to be anywhere but here, trapped between old memories and the unresolved tension that hangs over everything like a storm cloud.

Sunghoon may have spoken up for you, but the chill in his demeanor tells you everything you need to know—he hasn’t forgiven you for leaving, and this dinner is just the beginning of whatever complicated mess lies ahead.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

After dinner, the weight of the evening presses on your chest, and you feel the overwhelming need for space—somewhere away from the questions, the tension, and the relentless memories. Your parents chat casually in the living room with Sunghoon’s parents, but their laughter feels distant, like you’re no longer part of it. Excusing yourself quietly, you slip out of the house, letting the cool night air hit your skin as you walk down the quiet, familiar streets.

You find yourself heading to the park where you, Sunghoon, and Yeji used to play as kids. The old swings, the jungle gym, even the worn-out slide—it’s all still there, untouched by time. The memories of those carefree days flood back, bittersweet in their simplicity. You push down the ache in your chest and sit on one of the swings, the creak of the chains loud in the stillness of the night.

The moon hangs low, casting a pale glow over the empty park. You let yourself swing gently, the motion soothing, but your thoughts are anything but calm. Everything is swirling—Daniel, the wedding that won’t happen, your sudden return home, and the wall Sunghoon’s built between you since the moment you saw him again.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear him approach until he’s already there. The soft crunch of his footsteps on the gravel pulls you from your reverie, and you glance to your side, startled to see Sunghoon standing there, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you for a moment before settling onto the swing next to you.

For a long while, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches between you, thick and uncomfortable, but somehow familiar—like the many quiet nights you’d spent together here as kids. Back then, silence was easy. Now, it’s loaded with everything you haven’t said, everything that’s changed.

Finally, you break the quiet, your voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t think you’d follow me.”

Sunghoon doesn’t look at you, his gaze fixed on the ground as he kicks at the dirt with his shoe. “I didn’t think I would either,” he admits, his voice flat. “But here I am.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, trying to gauge his mood. The coldness from earlier lingers in the air between you, but there’s something else too—something softer, more hesitant, like he’s struggling with whatever’s on his mind.

The gentle creak of the swings is the only sound for a few more moments, until he finally speaks again, his tone low and distant. “You left,” he says, his words simple but heavy. “No warning. No goodbyes.”

Your stomach twists at the accusation, but you can’t deny it. “I know,” you say quietly, gripping the chains of the swing a little tighter. “I’m sorry.”

He lets out a small, bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t exactly change anything, does it?”

You wince, the sharp edge in his voice cutting deeper than you expected. “Sunghoon, I didn’t mean to just disappear. Things were… complicated.”

“Complicated?” He finally turns to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You couldn’t have called? Texted? I had to hear from my parents that you were moving to the U.S. And now, after years of nothing, you just show up out of nowhere, acting like everything’s fine?”

You bite your lip, the guilt weighing heavily on you. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just… I needed to get away. From everything. And then… life happened.”

Sunghoon shakes his head, his jaw clenching. “You’re always running away, Y/N. You did it back then, and now you’re doing it again. What happened with Daniel? Did he screw up, and now you’re back here hiding?”

His words strike a nerve, and you feel your chest tighten. “It’s not like that,” you say defensively, though a part of you wonders if he’s right. 

“Isn’t it?” he presses, his voice sharp. “You’re back here, pretending everything’s okay when clearly, it’s not.”

You turn away, the pain and frustration bubbling up inside you. “You don’t know what I’ve been through, Sunghoon. It’s not that simple.”

For a moment, he stays silent, the tension between you thick and suffocating. Then, he sighs, the anger seeming to drain out of him. “You’re right. I don’t know. Because you never told me.”

You look over at him, and for the first time since you’ve been back, you see something in his eyes that isn’t coldness or anger—just hurt. The years you’ve spent apart, the silence between you—it’s all built up into this wall that neither of you knows how to tear down.

“I didn’t mean for it to be like this,” you whisper, the weight of the years catching up to you. “I just… I needed to figure things out. And now, I don’t know how to fix it.”

Sunghoon looks away, his expression softening, though the hurt still lingers. “Maybe it’s not about fixing things,” he says quietly. “Maybe it’s just about being honest. With me. With yourself.”

You don’t know how to respond, the truth of his words settling heavily on your chest. The silence returns, but this time it feels different—not as cold, not as distant. You both sit there, side by side, swinging gently in the cool night air, the echoes of your childhood swirling around you.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The walk back home from the park is quiet, but it’s a different kind of silence now—less charged, more reflective. Sunghoon walks beside you, his hands in his pockets, and though neither of you speaks, there’s a tentative sense of peace settling between you.

The night air feels lighter as you near your house, and you glance over at him, wondering if this fragile understanding between you will last. Just as you’re about to say something, you hear it—a voice calling your name from across the street. 

“Y/N!”

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat at the sound of Daniel’s voice. It’s impossible. He shouldn’t be here. Slowly, you turn, and there he is, standing under a streetlight, his face a mixture of desperation and determination.

“Y/N, wait!” he calls again, hurrying toward you, his voice strained with urgency.

You can feel your blood run cold as he approaches. Sunghoon stiffens beside you, his gaze hardening the moment he sees Daniel. You swallow, taking an instinctive step back, every muscle in your body tensing as the man you’d left behind in the U.S. closes the distance between you.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you manage, your voice shaking with equal parts disbelief and anger.

Daniel’s eyes are pleading, his hands reaching out like he’s trying to reel you back in. “I came to find you. To explain everything. I messed up, Y/N, but we can fix this. You can’t just run away like this.”

Sunghoon moves slightly closer to you, his presence a shield as you stand frozen, trying to process the surreal scene unfolding in front of you. The front door to your house swings open, and your parents step out, concern etched across their faces. They must have heard the commotion from inside.

“Y/N? What’s going on out here?” your mother asks, her gaze moving between you, Daniel, and Sunghoon. Your father follows, frowning deeply as he takes in the scene.

Daniel seems to seize the moment, stepping toward you again. “I made a mistake, okay? I know I hurt you, but we can work this out. We were so close to the wedding, Y/N. Don’t throw it all away because of one mistake.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on you all over again. Your mother’s eyes widen as she glances between the two of you. “What… mistake?” she asks slowly, her voice tight with worry.

You don’t want to say it. You don’t want to admit it in front of your parents, in front of Sunghoon, but the truth is too heavy to keep inside any longer. You take a deep breath, your voice trembling as the words finally spill out.

“He cheated,” you say, your voice breaking slightly. “With someone else. That’s why I left.”

The air seems to freeze around you. Your mother gasps, her hand flying to her mouth in shock. Your father’s expression hardens, his eyes narrowing as he stares at Daniel. And Sunghoon… Sunghoon’s fists clench at his sides, the barely restrained anger radiating off him in waves.

“How dare you?” your father’s voice is like steel, cold and furious. “How dare you come here after what you’ve done?”

Daniel takes a step back, looking genuinely shaken by the fury directed at him. “It was a mistake,” he insists, his voice desperate. “It didn’t mean anything. I love Y/N, and we’re supposed to be getting married. I just—I want to fix things.”

Your mother, usually calm and collected, is trembling with emotion. “You think you can fix this?” she demands, her voice rising. “After what you’ve done to her? After breaking her heart like this?”

You feel Sunghoon’s hand on your arm, a silent gesture of support as everything unfolds around you. His voice is low, but every word drips with barely controlled fury. “You think you can just show up here and make everything better? She doesn’t need you anymore. Get lost.”

“Stay out of this. It’s none of your business.” Daniel tells sunghoon, his jaw clenching at the sight of him pleading for forgiveness.

Daniel looks between you and your parents, his panic growing. “Y/N, please,” he pleads. “We’ve been through so much together. You can’t just-

Your father steps forward now, his voice firm and filled with authority. “Get off my property,” he says, his eyes narrowing as he stares down Daniel. “You’ve done enough damage.”

Daniel looks panicked, his desperation clear as he looks at you one last time. “Y/N—”

“Go,” you say quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil in your heart. “Just… go.”

Sunghoon is still fuming beside you, but he doesn’t move. He waits, fists clenched, as Daniel hesitates for a moment longer before finally turning and walking back down the street. His footsteps fade into the night, leaving behind an unbearable silence.

Your parents stand by the door, your mother’s hand on your father’s arm as they watch you carefully. Sunghoon stands stiffly beside you, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

“I’m so sorry you had to find out like this,” you murmur, mostly to Sunghoon. He turns to look at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. There’s still anger in his eyes, but beneath it, you see something else—concern, hurt, maybe even guilt for not knowing sooner.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, his voice low, but there’s no accusation in his tone. Just quiet frustration and sadness.

You swallow hard, the weight of everything finally hitting you. “I didn’t want anyone to know,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I couldn’t.”

Sunghoon’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he finally lets out a slow breath. He doesn’t say anything, but the tension between you begins to ease. Slowly, the weight on your chest starts to lift, even if only a little.

As the tense moment begins to settle, your parents usher everyone back inside, their expressions a mix of concern and disbelief. Sunghoon follows you quietly, his usual confident demeanor replaced by a somber silence. Inside, the atmosphere is heavy with unspoken words and lingering shock from Daniel's unexpected visit.

Your mother offers tea, her hands trembling slightly as she pours, trying to find some semblance of normalcy in the midst of the chaos. Sunghoon remains quiet, his eyes fixed on his tea as he sits opposite you at the kitchen table. The air feels charged with unresolved tension, each passing second stretching the fragile peace thinner.

“I can’t believe he had the audacity to show up here,” your father finally breaks the silence, his voice rough with suppressed anger. “After what he did to you.”

You nod silently, unable to find the words to explain or justify Daniel’s actions. The betrayal still feels fresh, the wound reopened by his sudden appearance.

Sunghoon finally speaks, his voice calm but tinged with an edge you can’t quite place. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes meet yours, searching for answers. “You could have… I could have helped.”

You swallow hard, the guilt weighing heavily on you. “I didn’t want to burden anyone,” you admit quietly. “And I didn’t want you to hate me.”

Sunghoon’s expression softens slightly, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. “I could never hate you,” he says softly, his gaze unwavering. “But I hate seeing you hurt.”

Your heart clenches at his words, a mixture of relief and sadness washing over you. “I’m sorry,” is all you manage to say, the weight of your emotions threatening to spill over.

Your mother places a gentle hand on your shoulder, offering silent comfort. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to apologize,” she says softly, her eyes filled with maternal concern. “We’re just glad you’re home now.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spill over, and you let out a shaky breath. “I just… I needed to come back,” you admit, the truth finally surfacing. “Everything fell apart, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Sunghoon reaches across the table, his hand hesitating for a moment before gently covering yours. His touch is warm and reassuring, grounding you in the midst of turmoil. “You’re home now,” he says quietly, his voice steady. “And we’re here for you.”

You nod gratefully, overwhelmed by the support of your family and the unexpected comfort from Sunghoon. Despite everything, a sense of relief washes over you—the first glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you can begin to heal.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The evening wears on, the tension gradually easing as conversations shift from the shock of Daniel’s visit to lighter topics. Your parents share stories of neighbors and friends, trying to lighten the mood, while Sunghoon remains by your side, a silent presence that speaks volumes.

As the night draws to a close, you find yourself standing at the front door with Sunghoon, the faint glow of streetlights casting shadows around you. He looks at you, his eyes soft with unspoken understanding.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, breaking the silence between you. “For everything.”

Sunghoon offers a small smile, his hand brushing yours briefly. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replies gently. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

You take a deep breath, the weight on your shoulders a little lighter than before. “I think I’m going to be,” you admit, a tentative smile tugging at your lips.

Sunghoon’s smile widens slightly, a hint of relief in his eyes. “Good,” he says softly. “And if you ever need anything… I’m just a phone call away.. I’m also right next door.”

With a small smile, he turns to leave, and you watch him disappear into his house, a sense of gratitude filling your heart. As you close the door behind you and lean against it, you realize that while things may still be uncertain, you’re not facing them alone anymore. And for now, that’s enough.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Over the next few weeks, life began to settle into a routine, the shock of your sudden return starting to fade into the background. Each day, you found yourself easing back into the rhythm of your old life in ways you hadn’t expected. It was strange at first, being in your childhood home again, but soon it began to feel familiar—comforting, even. The late-night conversations with your mom, your dad’s predictable quips over breakfast, the peaceful quiet of your small neighborhood.

And then, there was Sunghoon.

At first, things between you remained cautious and quiet, both of you still navigating the unfamiliar territory of this new chapter in your lives. But bit by bit, as the days passed, the invisible walls that had sprung up between you began to crumble.

It started small. A casual conversation as you bumped into each other outside, a shared glance when you both found yourselves at the convenience store at the same time. Each interaction felt like a tentative step back toward something you thought was lost.

You had always been able to talk to Sunghoon so easily, and it wasn’t long before the old rhythm between you began to resurface. The awkward tension that had once hung over you melted away, replaced by the comfortable ease you’d always shared. Whether it was a quick coffee at the café you used to frequent as teenagers, or the impromptu walks around the neighborhood, it felt like the years apart had never happened. The quiet moments spent together became familiar again, and with them came a warmth you hadn’t realized you missed.

One afternoon, you were both sitting in the park where you used to spend hours as kids, watching the leaves fall as autumn began to set in. Sunghoon glanced over at you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Remember when we used to race to see who could swing the highest?” he asked, his tone light but nostalgic.

You laughed, nodding as memories of your childhood flooded back. “You always won. I swear you had superpowers or something.”

He chuckled softly, his gaze shifting to the old swingset. “I wasn’t that fast. You were just slow.”

You nudged him playfully, rolling your eyes. “Says the guy who fell off the monkey bars twice trying to impress Yeji.”

Sunghoon winced dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck as if the memory still stung. “Yeah, well… not one of my finer moments.”

Moments like these became more frequent. The playful banter, the shared laughs, the easy way you slipped back into each other’s lives—it all felt natural, as if no time had passed. And with each passing day, the bond between you grew stronger, echoing the closeness you had once shared as children.

Some days, you’d find yourselves sitting on the porch steps of your house, talking until the sun dipped below the horizon. Other days, you’d meet up for late-night snacks at the convenience store, a habit that reminded you of your carefree teenage days.

But it wasn’t just about the nostalgia or the familiarity. There was something deeper now, something unspoken but present in the way he looked at you or the way his gaze lingered a little longer than before. It was subtle, but undeniable.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

One evening, as you both sat under the stars in your backyard, Sunghoon turned to you, his expression thoughtful. “It’s weird, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

You looked at him, curious. “What is?”

He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged lightly. “How everything changes but somehow stays the same.”

You knew what he meant. The years had changed both of you, but sitting there with him, it felt like you were slipping back into the simplicity of what you had before—before life got complicated, before you’d left, before everything.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. “But in a good way.”

He smiled at that, his gaze meeting yours for a brief, charged moment. “In a good way,” he repeated quietly.

And just like that, the past weeks had brought you closer to him again. It felt like the Sunghoon you knew—your childhood best friend—was back in your life, but with something more layered beneath the surface now. The bond you shared had always been special, but as the days passed, you began to realize it wasn’t just about the past. It was about the present, about where you were both headed next.

Little by little, it felt like old times, but it also felt like something new was beginning to bloom between you. Something you weren’t ready to name yet, but couldn’t deny.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Sunghoon had always been good at hiding his feelings. Through all the years of friendship, he kept his crush buried deep, tucked away in the corners of his heart. It was easier that way. You had always been oblivious to it, lost in your own world of school, dreams, and later, the whirlwind of your life in the U.S. But now, with you back in his life after years apart, those old, buried feelings were starting to resurface, no matter how hard he tried to keep them at bay.

He remembered high school all too well. You were both juniors, sitting together at the school library late into the evening, pretending to study but really just talking about everything and nothing. He’d watch you as you rambled on about whatever topic had captured your interest that day, completely unaware of the way his gaze would linger on your face, his heart doing that stupid fluttering thing whenever you laughed.

He could still recall one particular moment as clear as day. You had been struggling with an essay, the stress getting to you, and Sunghoon had tried to help. You’d glanced up at him, frustration in your eyes, and he’d frozen. For a second, he swore his heart had stopped altogether. You were wearing his jacket that day because you’d forgotten yours at home, and he couldn’t focus on anything but how right it looked on you. How much he wanted to tell you that you could keep it forever.

But instead, he’d just shrugged, offering a teasing, “Maybe you’re overthinking it. It’s not a love letter or anything.”

You had thrown your pencil at him, rolling your eyes. “Thanks for the help, genius,” you’d muttered with a laugh, completely oblivious to the way his heart had been racing just from sitting so close to you.

And that was how it always was. You, perfectly unaware. Him, painfully aware.

Now, as he spent more time with you, it was like those feelings had never left. They’d just been waiting, buried but not forgotten, and the longer you were back, the harder it became to ignore them. He found himself watching you again, the way he had back in high school—only this time, it felt different. You were different. More grown, more guarded, but still the same girl he’d fallen for all those years ago.

The late-night walks, the quiet conversations under the stars, the way you leaned on him like you used to—all of it was stirring something in him. He tried to tell himself it was just nostalgia, that he was just getting caught up in the past, but the truth was, it was more than that.

It was the way you smiled when you caught him off guard, the way your laughter sounded like home, the way you instinctively reached for him whenever you needed comfort. It all felt too familiar, too easy, and too real.

One evening, as you both sat on the porch steps of your house, watching the sunset, Sunghoon glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. You were talking about something from work, your voice soft, but he wasn’t really listening. His mind was somewhere else—stuck on the way you looked in the fading light, like the girl he’d spent all of high school silently pining over.

It hit him then, harder than he expected, that those feelings hadn’t gone anywhere. Not really. He had just buried them because he’d thought he had to. But now, sitting here with you again, laughing like you always did, he wondered if maybe those feelings never really had a chance to fade.

“Sunghoon?” you asked, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Huh?” He blinked, trying to focus on what you were saying.

“You okay?” You tilted your head, giving him that look you always did when you could tell something was off.

“Yeah, just spaced out,” he lied, offering a small smile.

You didn’t push, but you gave him a soft smile in return, nudging him playfully. “You’re not very good at pretending to listen.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry. I’ll do better next time.”

But as you laughed and went on with your story, Sunghoon couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through his mind. How long could he keep pretending that nothing had changed? That his heart wasn’t pulling him back to the same place it had always been?

It was different now, though. You weren’t just the girl he’d fallen for in high school. You were the woman who had been through heartbreak, who had returned home looking for something familiar, something safe. And despite everything, Sunghoon realized that he still wanted to be that for you. He wanted to be the person you turned to—not just as a friend, but maybe something more.

But the question remained, did you see him that way, or would you always just see the boy next door, your childhood best friend?

His feelings had always been intense—he knew that much. But what he didn’t expect was how overwhelming they’d become now that you were back in his life. It wasn’t just nostalgia or some fleeting crush he could brush off. No, this ran deeper, more complicated than he was willing to admit. Every time he was near you, his heart ached with the weight of everything he’d kept hidden for so long.

And that’s why he started avoiding you.

It wasn’t something he planned, but he couldn’t help it. The more time you spent together, the harder it became to act like everything was normal. Like he wasn’t on the verge of telling you exactly how he felt, of confessing that these feelings had never gone away. But how could he? You’d just come out of one of the worst situations imaginable, and Sunghoon knew you needed time to heal. The last thing he wanted was to complicate things with his feelings, especially when you were clearly not ready for it.

So he pulled back.

It started with small things—canceled plans, excuses about being busy with work, avoiding your messages for a little longer than usual. He didn’t want to lie to you, but he also couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine. Every time he saw you, he felt like he was standing on the edge of something he wasn’t ready for, and he knew you weren’t either.

Yeji noticed first.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she said one evening as they grabbed coffee together. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes at him. “What’s going on?”

Sunghoon shrugged, avoiding her gaze as he sipped his drink. “Nothing. Just busy.”

Yeji scoffed. “Busy, huh? Is that why you’ve been dodging Y/N’s calls too?”

He flinched at that, his grip tightening on his cup. Of course, Yeji would notice. She was sharp like that—always had been.

“You’re being ridiculous, you know,” she continued, crossing her arms. “She’s your best friend. She just got back after everything with Daniel, and you’re avoiding her? What’s your problem?”

Sunghoon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m not avoiding her,” he mumbled, though he knew it wasn’t true.

Yeji raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Really? Because that’s what it looks like from where I’m standing.”

He stayed quiet, unsure of how to explain what was going on in his head. How could he possibly tell Yeji the truth when he hadn’t even come to terms with it himself?

“Look, I get it,” Yeji said after a moment, her voice softening. “She’s been through a lot, and maybe you think giving her space is the right thing to do. But Sunghoon, she needs you. You two have always been there for each other. What’s really going on?”

Sunghoon glanced up at her, his chest tight with the weight of what he was about to say. “It’s just… complicated.”

Yeji’s eyes widened slightly, as if realizing something. “Oh my God. You still like her, don’t you?”

The words hung in the air between them, heavy and undeniable. Sunghoon didn’t answer at first, but the look on his face must’ve said enough because Yeji leaned back in her chair, her expression softening.

“You never got over her,” she said quietly.

Sunghoon sighed again, feeling like the dam he’d been holding back was starting to crack. “No,” he admitted, his voice low. “I never did.”

Yeji didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watching him with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. Finally, she leaned forward, her tone gentle but firm. “You know you’re gonna have to deal with this, right? Avoiding her isn’t going to make it go away.”

“I know,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But it’s not that simple. She’s been through so much, Yeji. She doesn’t need me coming in and messing everything up with how I feel.”

“She needs her best friend,” Yeji countered. “You’re not going to mess anything up by being there for her.”

“But it’s more than that,” Sunghoon said, his voice tight. “I don’t just want to be her best friend, Yeji. I want… more. And if I tell her that now, when she’s still dealing with everything from Daniel, what if I make things worse?”

Yeji leaned back, crossing her arms again as she considered his words. “Sunghoon,” she said after a beat, her voice gentle but serious, “you’re not going to ruin anything by being honest with her. But you’re right—she’s not ready for something like that right now. So maybe you don’t need to tell her everything just yet. But avoiding her? That’s not the answer either.”

Sunghoon frowned, knowing she was right but still feeling conflicted. “I just… I don’t want to hurt her,” he said quietly.

“I know,” Yeji said softly. “But trust me, you’re hurting her more by pulling away.”

Sunghoon looked down at his hands, feeling the weight of her words settle over him. He didn’t want to hurt you, not after everything you’d already been through. But how could he face you when he could barely manage to keep his feelings under control?

“I just need some time,” he said, almost to himself. “To figure this out.”

Yeji sighed but nodded, though her expression remained concerned. “Just don’t take too long. She’s going to notice something’s off.”

Sunghoon nodded slowly, knowing deep down that Yeji was right. But for now, he wasn’t sure what else to do. All he knew was that the feelings he had buried for so long were clawing their way back to the surface, and no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t ignore them forever. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days felt different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something was off with Sunghoon. He was distant—more than usual. Whenever you tried to hang out like old times, he found an excuse. Too busy with work, too tired from errands, too anything but here.

At first, you tried to ignore it. Maybe he really was busy. Maybe it was just a phase. After all, coming back had changed a lot, for everyone. But the more it happened, the more unsettled you became. You weren’t used to Sunghoon being like this, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you’d done something wrong.

The morning after your last attempt to make plans, you found yourself sitting at the kitchen table, picking at breakfast while your mind raced. Your mom was bustling around, wiping the counters and humming softly to herself.

“You look distracted, honey,” she said, glancing over at you. “Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, nodding. “Yeah, just thinking.”

Your mom raised an eyebrow, giving you that knowing look she always did when she didn’t quite believe you. “Does this have anything to do with why Sunghoon’s been acting so strange?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“Come on, Y/N,” she said, turning to face you with a small smile. “I’ve known that boy his whole life. He’s always been so close to you, but lately, he’s been keeping his distance. Something’s bothering him, and I think it might have to do with you.”

Your heart sank at her words, and suddenly, all the little things you’d been trying to ignore came rushing to the surface. You hadn’t imagined it. Sunghoon was pulling away.

“I don’t know, Mom,” you mumbled, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “He’s been busy, I guess.”

“Maybe,” she said thoughtfully, “but busy doesn’t explain why he avoids you whenever you come over. I don’t think this is about work.”

You stared down at your plate, your chest tightening. The thought of losing Sunghoon’s presence after everything that had happened made your stomach twist. He’d always been your rock—the one person who understood you better than anyone. If he was pulling away, what did that mean?

“I’ll talk to him,” you said softly, more to yourself than to your mom.

“Good,” your mom said with a warm smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing a good conversation can’t fix.”

But as you made your way upstairs to get ready, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t going to be that simple. Sunghoon wasn’t the type to pull away without a reason, and you had a sinking suspicion that whatever was going on, it wasn’t something he’d be willing to talk about easily.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that afternoon, you found yourself sitting outside on the porch, staring off into the distance as you tried to make sense of it all. The crisp autumn air brushed against your skin, the quiet neighborhood almost too peaceful for the storm of emotions swirling inside you. The longer you thought about it, the more frustrated you became.

Sunghoon wasn’t just distant—he was avoiding you. And that hurt more than you were willing to admit. You’d been through so much already, and now it felt like you were losing the one person who’d always been there for you.

Determined not to let this go on any longer, you decided to confront him. You grabbed your phone, quickly typing out a message.

Hey, are you free to talk?

You stared at the screen, waiting for a reply, your heart pounding in your chest. Minutes passed, and just when you thought he might not respond, your phone buzzed.

Busy today. Maybe another time?

Your frustration flared. You knew he wasn’t that busy. This was just another excuse.

Without thinking, you typed back.

Sunghoon, what’s going on? You’ve been avoiding me for days. Did I do something wrong?

You hit send, your fingers trembling slightly. The silence that followed felt suffocating, each passing second adding to the weight in your chest.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his reply came.

No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just… dealing with some stuff. I’ll explain later.

You frowned at the vague response, feeling even more confused. What kind of “stuff” was he dealing with that he couldn’t even talk to you about it? You started typing another message but stopped, realizing that pushing him wouldn’t help. If he wasn’t ready to talk, there wasn’t much you could do.

But that didn’t make the sting of his distance any less painful.

You put your phone down, staring out at the quiet street once more. Sunghoon was hiding something—something big. And no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t shake the feeling that it was connected to you.

For the rest of the day, your mind wouldn’t let it go. What could possibly make him pull away like this? You had no idea what was going on with him, but one thing was clear: you needed to get to the bottom of it. Because the longer this went on, the more it felt like you were losing him. And you couldn’t bear the thought of that, not now—not after everything you’d been through.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few days were a blur of half-hearted attempts to distract yourself, but Sunghoon’s distance lingered at the back of your mind. Each time you saw him, whether by chance or at family gatherings, it felt like there was this invisible wall between you two, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

He wasn’t avoiding you entirely, but something was definitely off. The easy-going conversations you used to have were now strained. He barely looked at you, his responses shorter, and you couldn’t help but notice how he always found some reason to leave early.

It was Saturday afternoon when Yeji invited you out for coffee. She’d noticed the tension too, but unlike you, she wasn’t willing to let it slide.

“So, you and Sunghoon,” she said as soon as you sat down, not even bothering with small talk. “What’s going on?”

You blinked, surprised by her directness. “What do you mean?”

Yeji gave you a look, crossing her arms. “You know exactly what I mean, Y/N. He’s been acting weird since you got back, and don’t even try to tell me you haven’t noticed.”

You sighed, staring down at your drink. “I don’t know. I’ve tried to talk to him, but he just says he’s dealing with stuff. He won’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Yeji tilted her head, her eyes narrowing in thought. “You think it’s about Daniel?” she asks you, trying to allude to something more.

The mention of his name made your chest tighten. “I don’t know. Maybe? He was weird even before he knew about Daniel.”

“Hmm.” Yeji leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “That boy’s always been complicated, but I’ve never seen him this off with you. It’s like he’s avoiding something—something big.”

You frowned, feeling even more lost. “But what? What could it be? I didn’t do anything.”

Yeji tapped her fingers on the table, her gaze thoughtful. “Maybe it’s not about something you did. Maybe it’s something he’s dealing with.”

You shook your head. “He won’t talk to me about it. He just keeps saying he’s busy, but it’s more than that. I can feel it.”

“Of course it’s more than that,” Yeji said, her voice firm. “Sunghoon’s always been a terrible liar. He’s hiding something, and my guess? It has something to do with how he feels about you.”

You blinked, staring at her in confusion. “What? What do you mean?”

Yeji sighed, giving you a soft smile. “Come on, Y/N. You really think he’s just your childhood best friend? That boy has been in love with you since high school.”

Your stomach dropped at her words. “No, he hasn’t,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “We’re just friends. He’s never—”

“He’s never told you,” Yeji finished for you, her tone gentle but serious. “But trust me, it’s been there. He’s always liked you, but he never acted on it because he didn’t want to ruin what you two had. And now, with everything you’ve been through, he’s probably even more scared of saying something.”

You stared at her, stunned into silence. The idea of Sunghoon having feelings for you—real feelings—had never crossed your mind. Sure, you’d always been close, but he’d never given you any reason to think it was more than that. Right?

Yeji sighed, reaching across the table to pat your hand. “Look, I’m not saying you have to do anything about it. But you need to talk to him. He’s avoiding you because he doesn’t know how to handle what he’s feeling. And im truly so sick of him moping around like a puppy.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. Was it true? Had Sunghoon really been hiding his feelings all this time? And if he had, what did that mean for you? You couldn’t even begin to process the possibility, not after everything that had happened with Daniel. You weren’t ready for this—couldn’t be.

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, feeling overwhelmed. “I don’t even know if I’m ready to talk about it.”

Yeji gave you a sympathetic smile. “I get it. But Sunghoon is your best friend, and if you don’t at least clear the air, this is just going to keep getting worse. Whatever happens, you both deserve to be honest with each other.”

You nodded slowly, knowing deep down that she was right. Avoiding the situation wasn’t helping anyone. If Sunghoon was really struggling with his feelings, the least you could do was try to talk to him about it. But even as you told yourself that, a knot of anxiety settled in your chest.

Because if Sunghoon really had feelings for you, this was going to change everything. And after everything you’d already been through, you weren’t sure if you were ready for more change.

But one thing was clear: something had to give. You couldn’t keep pretending like everything was normal when it so clearly wasn’t.

“I’ll talk to him,” you finally said, your voice quiet but determined.

Yeji smiled, squeezing your hand. “Good. You’ll figure it out.”

But as you sat there, sipping your coffee and trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling, you couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

That night, you found yourself staring at your phone, Sunghoon’s contact pulled up, your thumb hovering over the call button. The weight of Yeji’s words hung heavy in your mind—he’s always liked you—and the longer you thought about it, the more restless you became.

What if it was true? What if Sunghoon had been hiding his feelings all this time? The idea seemed impossible, but then again, you’d never imagined him pulling away like this either.

With a frustrated sigh, you locked your phone and tossed it onto the bed, running your hands through your hair. You couldn’t just call him out of the blue. It had to be face-to-face. You had to know for sure, but the thought of confronting him sent a surge of anxiety through your chest. What would you even say?

Unable to stand the suffocating silence of your room, you grabbed your jacket and slipped out of the house, your feet carrying you in a familiar direction. The night air was cool against your skin as you headed toward the park—the same park where you, Sunghoon, and Yeji had spent countless afternoons as kids.

It was quiet when you arrived, the swing set creaking gently in the breeze. You hesitated for a moment before sitting down on one of the swings, the chains groaning under your weight as you gently kicked at the dirt beneath your feet. Memories of your childhood came flooding back—the three of you racing to the swings, fighting over who could go higher, laughing until your sides hurt.

And then, Sunghoon’s face flashed in your mind—his shy smile, his teasing words, the way he’d always looked out for you, even when you didn’t realize it. Could Yeji really be right? Had he been feeling this way for years?

You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the footsteps approaching until someone sat down on the swing next to you. You looked up, startled, only to see Sunghoon, his expression unreadable as he stared ahead.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy and awkward. You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or more anxious that he’d found you here.

“I didn’t think you’d be out this late,” Sunghoon finally said, his voice quiet.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you replied, your fingers curling around the swing’s chain. “Needed some air.”

He nodded, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. “Me too.”

You wanted to ask him—needed to—but the words felt stuck in your throat. Instead, you sat there, side by side in silence, the tension between you growing thicker with each passing second.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. “Sunghoon, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched, his hands gripping the chains of his swing tightly. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, almost strained. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the cryptic response. “Is it me?” you asked, turning to face him fully. “Did I do something wrong?”

His eyes snapped to yours, wide and alarmed. “No, Y/N, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” you pressed, frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’ve been acting so strange ever since I came back. I don’t get it.”

Sunghoon sighed, his gaze dropping to the ground as he raked a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me,” you said, your voice soft but pleading. “Please, Sunghoon. I don’t want to lose you.”

His expression tightened at your words, and for a long moment, he didn’t say anything. You could see the internal battle playing out behind his eyes, the conflict he’d been hiding so well suddenly visible. When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, vulnerable in a way you’d never heard before.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N.”

His words hung heavy in the air, and your heart clenched in your chest. “You’re not hurting me. You’re my best friend, Sunghoon. Whatever it is, we can get through it.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “That’s the problem. I don’t know if we can.”

You frowned, confusion swirling in your mind. “What do you mean?”

Sunghoon’s eyes met yours, and for the first time, you saw the weight of everything he’d been holding back. His next words came out in a rush, as if he’d been holding them in for far too long.

“I’ve always liked you, Y/N. More than just a friend. Since high school, maybe even before then. But I never told you because… because I didn’t want to mess things up. And then you left, and I thought I’d gotten over it. But now that you’re back…” He trailed off, his voice catching in his throat. “It’s like all those feelings just came rushing back, and I don’t know what to do with them. I can’t act on them, not after everything you’ve been through with Daniel. It’s not fair to you.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, Sunghoon’s confession hanging in the air between you like a fragile thread. You’d always thought of him as your best friend, the one constant in your life that had never changed. But now… now everything was different.

“Sunghoon…” you whispered, at a loss for words.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, standing up from the swing as if he couldn’t bear to stay any longer. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’ll—”

“No,” you said, cutting him off, standing up too. “Don’t run away. Not again.”

He looked at you, his expression torn, and for a moment, you saw the vulnerability in his eyes—the fear of rejection, the fear of losing you completely. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart.

“Sunghoon, I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “I never knew you felt that way.”

“I didn’t want you to know,” he said quietly. “But now… now I can’t hide it anymore.”

The silence between you was deafening, the weight of his confession settling heavily on your shoulders. You didn’t know how to respond, not after everything you’d been through. But one thing was certain: nothing between you and Sunghoon would ever be the same again.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The days that followed felt surreal. Sunghoon’s confession lingered in your mind like a persistent echo, one that you couldn’t quite shake off. Every time you replayed his words, your chest tightened, and your thoughts spiraled into confusion. You didn’t know how to feel—about him, about your past, or even about yourself. You spent so many years thinking of Sunghoon as your constant, your rock, your best friend, and now all of that felt uncertain.

Sunghoon avoided you even more than before, making sure he was never in the same place as you for too long. At first, you gave him space, understanding that things were complicated. But the distance started to gnaw at you. He’d always been the one person you could rely on, and now, when you needed him most, he was pulling away.

It was Yeji who finally brought it up, sitting across from you at the café as she studied your downcast expression.

“You look like you’ve been hit by a truck,” she said bluntly, sipping her iced coffee.

You sighed, pushing your own drink around the table without taking a sip. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” she said flatly. “And let me guess, it has something to do with Sunghoon?”

You didn’t answer right away, but the slight flicker in your eyes was enough for Yeji to know she was right. She groaned, leaning forward.

“I swear, if you two don’t figure this out, I’m going to lock you in a room until you do.”

You managed a weak smile at her joke, but it faded quickly. “It’s complicated, Yeji.”

“Everything is complicated with you two. But the longer you let this sit, the worse it’s going to get.”

“I don’t even know what to say to him,” you admitted, sinking into your seat. “He told me how he feels, but… I’m not ready for that. I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”

Yeji studied you carefully, her expression softening. “You’ve been through a lot with Daniel. No one expects you to be ready for something like this. But Sunghoon is… well, he’s not Daniel. You know he’d never hurt you.”

Your throat tightened at her words. “That’s what makes it worse. I don’t want to hurt him either.”

“You won’t,” Yeji said confidently. “Not if you’re honest with him. He knows what you’ve been through, and he’ll understand. But avoiding each other like this isn’t helping anyone.”

You rubbed your temples, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on you. “I don’t know, Yeji. It’s just… too much.”

She reached across the table, placing her hand on top of yours. “Take it one step at a time. Sunghoon’s not going anywhere. He just needs to know where you stand.”

You nodded, knowing deep down that she was right. The tension between you and Sunghoon had become unbearable, and if you didn’t talk to him soon, it would only get worse.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Later that evening, you found yourself standing in front of Sunghoon’s house, your heart racing. You hadn’t planned to come here, but your feet had carried you here almost on instinct. His confession had thrown everything into chaos, and you needed to clear the air, for both your sakes.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door. The wait felt excruciatingly long, but finally, the door opened to reveal Sunghoon, his expression shifting from surprise to something more guarded.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice hesitant. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you,” you replied, trying to steady your voice. “Can we?”

He looked uncertain for a moment, but eventually, he stepped aside, letting you in. You followed him to the living room, the air between you heavy with unspoken words.

Sunghoon stood by the window, his hands stuffed into his pockets, avoiding your gaze. “What is it?”

You took a seat on the couch, feeling your pulse quicken. “About what you told me the other night…”

He tensed, his shoulders stiffening. “You don’t have to say anything. I get it.”

“No,” you interrupted, your voice firmer than you intended. “You don’t get it. You can’t just drop something like that on me and then disappear, Sunghoon. We’ve been friends for years. I deserve to know what’s going on with you.”

Sunghoon sighed, finally turning to face you. “I was trying to give you space. I didn’t want to make things harder for you after everything with Daniel.”

“I appreciate that,” you said, your voice softening. “But shutting me out isn’t helping either of us.”

There was a long pause as Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, clearly struggling with his own emotions. “I didn’t know what else to do, Y/N. I’ve been holding this in for so long, and now that it’s out, I don’t know how to act around you.”

“You don’t have to act any differently,” you said quietly. “But you also can’t avoid me forever.”

Sunghoon stared at you, a conflicted look in his eyes. “I just… I don’t want to make things worse. I know you’re not ready for… anything like this, and I’m not going to push you. But it’s hard, Y/N. It’s hard being around you and pretending like everything is the same when I’ve been feeling this way for so long.”

You looked down, your heart heavy with guilt. “I don’t want to lose you, Sunghoon. You’re one of the most important people in my life, and I can’t imagine things without you. But I’m not ready for more, not after everything that happened.”

“I know,” Sunghoon said softly, his expression pained. “And I’ll wait. I’ll always wait for you, Y/N. But that doesn’t make it any easier.”

The vulnerability in his voice hit you hard, and for the first time, you saw just how deep his feelings ran. He wasn’t asking for anything from you—he was just being honest, and it was tearing him apart. You took a shaky breath, feeling the weight of it all crashing down on you.

“I’m sorry, Sunghoon,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I wish things were different.”

He shook his head, stepping closer to you. “Don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault. I just… I just needed you to know.”

The silence stretched between you, both of you caught in the painful reality of the situation. Neither of you knew what the future held, but for now, all you could do was take it one step at a time.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The days passed in an uneasy quiet, the tension between you and Sunghoon lingering like an unspoken secret. He no longer avoided you as much, but the once easy-going banter you shared felt stilted, weighed down by everything unsaid. You couldn’t stop thinking about his confession. It felt like a constant reminder of how complicated everything had become. No matter how much you tried to focus on anything else, Sunghoon’s words echoed in your mind, making it impossible to pretend like things were back to normal.

One evening, as you sat in your room, you heard a knock on the door. Your mom poked her head in, smiling warmly.

“Dinner’s ready, sweetheart,” she said, her eyes soft with concern. “You okay?”

You plastered on a smile, nodding. “Yeah, just lost in thought.”

She gave you a knowing look. “You’ve been doing a lot of that lately. Is everything okay between you and Sunghoon?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Why do you ask?”

“You two have always been inseparable, but things seem… different now. You can talk to me, you know.”

You bit your lip, unsure of how much to say. You hadn’t told your parents anything about Sunghoon’s confession, and you weren’t sure you could without making things more complicated. “It’s nothing, Mom. We’re fine. Just adjusting, I guess.”

She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. “Alright, but you know we’re here for you. If you need to talk about anything—about Sunghoon or anything else—you can always come to us.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words settle over you. She meant well, but the last thing you wanted was to burden your parents with the tangled mess of your emotions.

After dinner, you found yourself wandering outside, needing fresh air to clear your head. Without thinking, you walked down the familiar path to the park, your steps slow and deliberate. The quiet of the evening felt comforting, a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts swirling inside you. You found your way back to the swings, sitting down as you often did when you needed to think.

As you rocked gently back and forth, your mind drifted back to high school. Back to the carefree days when things between you, Sunghoon, and Yeji had been simple. The memories were vivid—late nights studying together, hanging out at the park after school, and how Sunghoon had always been there, a steady presence by your side. Back then, you’d never questioned his loyalty, never thought twice about the way he always seemed to put you first. But now, looking back, you wondered how you hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you, the quiet way his feelings had been growing all along.

You remembered one particular moment, just before you left for the U.S. Sunghoon had walked you home after a late study session, the two of you chatting about nothing in particular. It had been a chilly night, and he’d offered you his jacket without hesitation. You’d laughed, teased him for being too polite, but his expression had been serious, almost sad. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it, chalking it up to the fact that you’d be leaving soon. But now, in hindsight, you realized it had been more than that. Sunghoon had been struggling with his feelings, even back then, and you’d been completely oblivious.

A pang of guilt hit you as you thought about how long he must’ve held everything inside, how hard it must’ve been for him to see you leave, knowing you didn’t feel the same way. And now, after everything that had happened with Daniel, Sunghoon was still there, waiting for you in the background, even though you couldn’t give him what he wanted.

“Why does everything have to be so complicated?” you muttered to yourself, staring up at the darkening sky.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in more memories, you heard footsteps approaching from behind. You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. Sunghoon.

“You’re here again,” he said, his voice quiet but familiar as he sat on the swing next to you.

“I needed to think,” you replied softly, your eyes still focused on the ground. “This place… it helps.”

Sunghoon nodded, his gaze drifting up toward the sky. “Yeah. It’s always been like that, hasn’t it?”

A comfortable silence fell between you, though it was laced with the tension of everything unsaid. For a moment, it felt like old times—just the two of you, sitting together in quiet understanding. But you knew things were different now, no matter how much you wanted to pretend otherwise.

Finally, you broke the silence, your voice tentative. “Sunghoon… I know things have been weird lately. And I hate it.”

He didn’t respond right away, but you could feel the weight of his gaze on you. “I know.”

“I just—” You hesitated, trying to find the right words. “I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want things to be like this between us.”

Sunghoon sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t want that either, Y/N. But I don’t know how to make it less weird. I can’t just forget what I said.”

“I’m not asking you to,” you said quickly. “But maybe we can figure this out. I need you, Sunghoon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He looked at you, his expression conflicted. “I need you too. But that’s the problem.”

Your heart clenched at his words. You could see the struggle in his eyes—the fight between his feelings for you and his desire to protect you from more pain. It wasn’t fair to him, and you knew it. But you didn’t know how to fix it, how to make things go back to the way they were.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the guilt heavy in your chest.

Sunghoon shook his head, his voice soft but firm. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. None of this is.”

You sat there in silence, the distance between you feeling both vast and fragile. There was so much you wanted to say, so much you needed to figure out. But for now, all you could do was sit side by side, both of you trying to navigate the complicated mess of feelings that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Weeks passed, and the uneasy tension that once lingered between you and Sunghoon gradually began to fade. Little by little, things started to feel like they were falling back into place, though not quite the same as before. The awkward silences became comfortable again, and the shared moments between you started to carry a different weight.

You found yourself paying closer attention to him in ways you never had before. The small gestures—how he’d bring you coffee without asking, or how he’d go out of his way to make sure you were comfortable—began to take on a deeper meaning. Sunghoon wasn’t just being your best friend; he was being your support, your constant, the one person who had always been there for you, even when you didn’t realize how much you needed him.

It was in those moments that your feelings began to shift. At first, you tried to brush them off, telling yourself it was just gratitude, that you were still recovering from everything with Daniel. But the more time you spent with Sunghoon, the harder it became to ignore the warmth that bloomed in your chest every time he smiled at you, or the way your heart raced whenever your hands accidentally brushed.

One evening, the two of you sat in your backyard, a quiet evening settling in around you. Sunghoon had insisted on helping your father with a project earlier, and afterward, he stayed for dinner, as he often did. Now, the two of you were sitting on the porch, the cool breeze gently rustling the leaves above you.

Sunghoon leaned back, his eyes drifting to the sky. “You’ve been quiet tonight,” he said softly, glancing at you. “Everything okay?”

You smiled at the concern in his voice, feeling that familiar warmth spread through you again. “Yeah, I’m just… thinking.”

He turned slightly to face you, raising an eyebrow. “About what?”

You hesitated, unsure how to put your feelings into words. You weren’t ready to say everything out loud yet, but you couldn’t shake the overwhelming sense of gratitude and admiration you felt for him. “Just about how things have changed… and how much you’ve been there for me.”

Sunghoon’s gaze softened, and he shrugged casually, though you could see a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. “That’s what friends do, right?”

You nodded, but the word “friends” felt wrong now. There was something more between you, something that had been growing quietly in the background, and it was starting to become impossible to deny. You weren’t sure when it had happened, or maybe it had always been there, buried beneath the surface. But what you did know was that Sunghoon wasn’t just your friend anymore.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

More time passed and you found yourself seeking him out more, spending more time with him than anyone else. You began to crave his company, his quiet strength, and the way he seemed to understand you without needing to ask. And it wasn’t just the grand gestures that made your heart flutter—it was the small things. The way he always checked if you were okay, how he listened when you talked, really listened, and how he’d make sure you weren’t alone whenever you seemed down.

It was these little acts of kindness, the quiet care he showed you, that made your feelings for him grow into something undeniable.

One evening, the two of you found yourselves at the park again, sitting on the swings like you used to as kids. The sky was a deep shade of pink and orange, the sun setting in the distance. Sunghoon was talking about something—work, maybe—but you weren’t really listening. Instead, you were focused on him, on the way his hair fell into his eyes, the way his voice softened when he talked to you.

You realized, suddenly and overwhelmingly, that you cared for him in a way you hadn’t cared for anyone else. It wasn’t just that Sunghoon had been there for you, but the way he had always, quietly and without expectation, supported you, no matter what. He didn’t ask for anything in return, didn’t push you for answers or confessions. He just… cared.

And that’s when you knew. You had feelings for Sunghoon. They had been there all along, waiting for you to realize it.

Sunghoon must have noticed the look on your face because he stopped mid-sentence, turning to you with a curious expression. “What is it?”

You blinked, startled out of your thoughts. “What?”

“You’re staring at me,” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You felt your cheeks heat up, quickly looking away. “I wasn’t.”

He laughed softly, but didn’t push further. Instead, he leaned back on the swing, the smile fading as a comfortable silence settled between you. You wanted to say something, to tell him what was on your mind, but the words wouldn’t come. Not yet.

For now, you were content just being here with him, the weight of your growing feelings a secret you weren’t quite ready to share. But you knew, deep down, that it wouldn’t be long before those feelings couldn’t be hidden any longer.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

It was a cozy Friday evening, and the house felt unusually quiet. Your parents and Sunghoon’s parents had decided to take a weekend trip together, leaving the two of you alone for the night. You had taken advantage of the opportunity to host a movie night, and the living room was filled with the inviting smell of popcorn and the soft glow of fairy lights strung around the room.

You settled onto the couch, a soft blanket draped over your legs, while Sunghoon reclined next to you, the space between you filled with a warm tension. The movie played in the background, but you found it hard to focus on the screen. Instead, your gaze kept drifting to him—the way the light danced in his hair, the casual way he laughed at the jokes, and the ease of his presence next to you.

As the minutes turned into hours, you felt the atmosphere shift. Each time you glanced at him, your heart raced a little more. You couldn’t ignore the way your feelings for him had transformed over the last few weeks, the moments you had shared sparking something deeper than friendship.

Finally, during a quieter moment in the movie, you turned to him, heart pounding. “Sunghoon,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He turned his head, eyebrows raised in curiosity, his expression inviting you to continue.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should voice what had been on your mind for so long. But the warmth of his gaze, the way he was looking at you, made the decision feel inevitable. “I need to tell you something,” you began, feeling your heart race.

He tilted his head slightly, encouraging you. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us… and how I feel about you.” Your voice trembled slightly as you spoke, but you pressed on. “When I came back to Korea, everything felt so chaotic. But you… you were there for me in a way I didn’t expect. And the more time we spend together, the more I realize that I care about you, Sunghoon. A lot.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face. “Y/N, I—”

Before he could respond, you continued, your heart pounding in your chest. “I know I’ve been through a lot, and I don’t want to rush anything. But I can’t pretend anymore. I have feelings for you—feelings that go beyond friendship. I want to explore this… whatever this is between us.”

A moment of silence stretched between you, filled with the weight of your confession. You could see the shock in his expression slowly melting into something softer, something hopeful.

“I’ve wanted to hear you say that,” he finally said, his voice low and sincere. “I care about you too, Y/N. I’ve felt this way for a long time, but I didn’t know if you’d feel the same after everything that’s happened.”

Your heart soared at his words, relief flooding through you. “Really?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, a small smile spreading across his lips. “Really.”

In that moment, everything else faded away. You felt a magnetic pull between you, drawing you closer together. Without thinking, you leaned in, your heart racing as you closed the space between you.

Sunghoon met you halfway, his lips brushing against yours with a gentle hesitance that quickly melted into a deeper kiss. It was electric—filled with all the unspoken emotions you had both held back for so long. The world outside your living room ceased to exist, leaving only the warmth of his body and the rhythm of your hearts.

You melted into him, feeling the softness of the couch beneath you as he deepened the kiss, hands finding their way to your waist, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat radiating between you, igniting something passionate and alive that you hadn’t anticipated.

You  moaned softly into Sunghoon's mouth, the sound fueling his desire even further. Breaking the kiss for air, you stared into each other's eyes, both breathless and flushed. "Your room," Sunghoon whispered hoarsely. "Let's go to your room."

Hand in hand, you made your way to your childhood bedroom, a space that held countless memories of your friendship. The room was a sanctuary, adorned with pictures and trinkets from your shared adventures. Sunghoon closed the door behind you, sealing your private world from the outside.

You leaned against the door, heart racing as he approached her. He gently cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your soft cheeks. "I've dreamed of this moment for so long," he murmured, his voice husky with desire.Your lips met again, this time with a hunger that burned through your restraint. Sunghoon's hands roamed over your body, exploring the curves and contours of your hips and waist. His fingers played with the hem of your tshirt, as if he was silently asking permission to take it off of you. You nod, his hands wasting no time in peeking the fabric to reveal the lacy black bra you wore beneath. 

Your breath caught in your throat as his fingertips traced the delicate lace, sending shivers down her spine.

With deft fingers, Sunghoon unhooked your bra, freeing your breasts. You gasp at the cold air that suddenly hits you. He gazed at them with reverence, his eyes dark with desire. Leaning down, he took one nipple into his mouth, suckling gently while his thumb teased the other.  You arch your back at the sensation, moaning softly as waves of pleasure rippled through you.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N," Sunghoon whispered against you skin. "I want to make you feel so good."

Feeling a sudden burst of eagerness, your hands found their way to Sunghoon's belt, unbuckling it with trembling fingers. You undid his jeans and slid your hand inside, wrapping your fingers around his hardening cock through his boxers. Sunghoon gasped, his breath hot against your neck, placing a small, wet kiss there as you began to stroke him. “S-shit baby.”

You slip your hand out, guiding Sunghoon towards your bed, you pushed him gently onto the mattress, positions now reversed. You straddled his waist, grinding your hips against his, feeling his erection press against your clothed cunt. His hands roamed over your thighs, inching upwards, exploring the soft skin beneath her shorts that had been driving him insane since the moment he stepped foot inside your house. 

With a gentle tug, you lifted your hips as he removed your shorts as well as the cute black panties that matched your bra, revealing your bare pussy, glistening with desire. Sunghoon's eyes darkened further as he took in the sight, his breath coming in short gasps. "You're so wet, Y/N. want to taste you so bad."

“later, you say as you slide down his body, positioning yourself between his legs. You leaned forward, your long hair cascading over your shoulders, as you began to kiss and lick the length of his shaft. Sunghoon groaned, his hands gripping the bedsheets as you took him deep into your mouth, tongue swirling around the head of his cock. “Feels so good baby”

Sunghoon couldn't hold back any longer. He sat up, positioning you on the bed, and parted your thighs with gentle kisses. His tongue traced the outer folds of your pussy, teasing your sensitive skin. You squirmed with pleasure,  hips bucking against his face as he found your clit and began to suckle it with relentless passion.

"Oh, Sunghoon!" you cried out,  voice hoarse with desire. "Fuck don't stop, please!"

Sunghoon continued his relentless assault on your clit, sending you spiraling towards an intense orgasm “tastes so fucking good, all wet just for me.” Your body trembled,  crying out his name as waves of pleasure washed over you. Sunghoon didn't let up, continuing to lick and suck until you were a quivering mess, your body drenched in sweat and satisfaction.

After a few moments to recover, you reached for Sunghoon, pulling him up to kiss him in a more hungry kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and it drove you wild with desire all over again. "I want you inside me," you whispered between kisses. "Now."

Sunghoon needed no further encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his cock throbbing with anticipation. With one smooth thrust, he filled you completely, eliciting a gasp from your parted lips. you moved in perfect harmony, your bodies slick with sweat as ge fucked you with raw, unbridled passion.

"Harder, baby" you pleaded, nails digging into his shoulders. "fuck me harder.” Sunghoon obliged, pounding into you with abandon, his hips slamming against yours. 

The headboard banged against the wall, marking the rhythm of your frantic coupling. your cries filled the room as you rode the waves of pleasure,  orgasm building to an intense crescendo.

“Fuck baby your pussys clenching so hard around my cock, im so fucking close.” You could feel his thrusts becoming sloppier, your own orgasm approaching just a quick. “gonna c-cum hoonie.” He couldn't hold back any longer. With a final, powerful thrust, he came deep inside you, his hot cum painting your walls white. 

He collapsed onto the bed, bodies entwined, both breathing heavily as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through each of you. “If I would’ve known you’d fuck me that good maybe I would’ve given you a chance much earlier.” You tell him out of breath, eliciting a chuckle from him. 

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The soft morning light streamed through the curtains, casting a gentle glow in your room. You stirred awake, feeling warmth enveloping you. Sunghoon was nestled beside you, his arm draped protectively around your waist, holding you close. The memory of the night before flooded your mind—the kiss, the confessions, and the spark of something beautiful igniting between you.

You smiled to yourself, feeling a sense of contentment that you hadn’t experienced in a long time. But as you settled deeper into his embrace, a sudden noise from downstairs jolted you from your blissful reverie.

“Y/N, I think your parents are back,” Sunghoon murmured sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he became more alert.

Your heart raced as the reality of the situation hit you. “Oh fuck, They’re not supposed to be back yet” you whispered, panic rising in your chest.

Sunghoon’s eyes widened, and he immediately sat up, glancing around the room. “We need to hurry”

You both scrambled to untangle yourselves from the sheets, adrenaline coursing through you. As you hopped out of bed, you glanced at each other, both of you laughing nervously at the chaotic situation. There was an unspoken agreement—you needed to act casual, like nothing unusual had happened.

“Okay, you get dressed first,” you said, tossing him a T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had been strewn on the floor. “I’ll throw on something too.”

You quickly changed into a comfy hoodie and leggings, your heart still racing as you heard your parents’ voices growing louder downstairs. The last thing you wanted was for them to walk in on you two after the night you just shared.

“Are you ready?” Sunghoon asked, his hair slightly tousled as he pulled on the T-shirt. He looked adorable, and it took everything in you not to linger on how cute he was at that moment.

“Almost!” you replied, giving your reflection a quick check in the mirror before moving to the door. “Let’s go!”

You both rushed down the stairs, trying to make as little noise as possible, your hearts pounding in your chests. As you reached the bottom step, you could hear your parents chatting in the kitchen, their voices bright and cheerful.

“Y/N, are you home?” your mom called out just as you and Sunghoon entered the living room, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Yeah, Mom! Just hanging out!” you replied, forcing a casual tone, hoping it didn’t sound too forced.

You glanced over at Sunghoon, who was giving you a small, reassuring smile, but you could see the nervousness in his eyes. You both moved into the kitchen, where your parents were unpacking bags, completely oblivious to the whirlwind of emotions that had just taken place in your room.

“Hey, Sunghoon! you’re here,” your dad said, giving him a friendly nod. “Did you keep Y/N entertained while we were gone?”

“Of course!” Sunghoon replied, a little too quickly, his eyes darting to you for a brief moment. “We had a fun movie night.”

You nodded enthusiastically, trying to match his energy. “Yeah, just a normal hangout. Nothing out of the ordinary,” you added, unable to hide the hint of a nervous laugh.

Your mom chuckled, giving you both a knowing look. “You two have always been inseparable. I’m glad you’re spending time together.”

You felt your cheeks flush, and you shot Sunghoon a sidelong glance. He was trying hard not to smile, and it was contagious.

“Did you enjoy the trip?” you asked, hoping to shift the conversation away from the night before.

Your parents launched into stories about their travels, and as you listened, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at Sunghoon. He caught your eye, and you both exchanged a small smile that felt electric, reminding you of the connection you had just started to explore.

As breakfast was prepared, the atmosphere felt relaxed and easy, but your heart raced at the thought of your parents unknowingly interrupting something that had felt so significant. You couldn’t help but feel giddy about the night you had shared, and the prospect of what lay ahead for you and Sunghoon, even as the morning unfolded like any other day.

After breakfast, your parents retreated to the living room to relax, leaving you and Sunghoon to clean up the kitchen. The atmosphere felt light, almost like the calm before a storm as you both exchanged playful banter, your earlier connection still fresh in your minds.

Later that afternoon, you heard a familiar voice ring out from the front door. “Y/N! I’m here!” Yeji called as she burst into the house, her energy immediately filling the space.

You couldn’t help but smile, excitement bubbling up at the sight of your childhood best friend. “Yeji! You’re back!” you exclaimed, rushing to greet her with a hug.

As you pulled away, she looked at you intently, her gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. “You’re glowing,  What’s going on with you?” she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice.

Your cheeks flushed slightly, and you tried to play it cool. “What are you talking about?” you said, attempting to sound nonchalant, but you felt a giddy warmth spread through you.

“Oh, come on” Yeji pressed, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You look so happy. Are you and sunghoon fianlly together?”

You felt your heart race at the thought. “It’s… complicated,” you said, a shy smile creeping onto your face as you remembered the kiss, the way he made you feel, and the warmth that had lingered long after. “We’re just figuring things out.”

“Just figuring things out?” Yeji exclaimed, her voice rising in disbelief. “Y/N, you’re practically radiating happiness, That sounds like a classic ‘we’re together’ situation to me now spill bitch.”

You laughed, unable to suppress the joy bubbling inside you. “I promise, it’s nothing like that! We’re just friends hanging out—well, more than friends, but still… you know.” You were stumbling over your words, and you could feel the warmth of your blush creeping down your neck.

Yeji’s eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and excitement. “Oh my god, did you fuck?” she pressed, bouncing slightly on her heels, clearly thrilled at the prospect.

You don’t say anything, except you give her a knowing look that told her everything she needs to know. 

Yeji’s smile grew wider, her excitement infectious. “Fucking finally. I thought you idiots would never figure it out” She grabbed your shoulders, her eyes gleaming. “You have to tell me everything.”

Just then, Sunghoon appeared in the doorway, glancing between the two of you, a bemused smile on his face. “What’s going on in here?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe with an amused expression.

Yeji turned to him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, just catching up on the latest drama. Y/N and I were just talking about how she’s glowing and—”

You quickly interjected, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “We were just talking about… uh, my skincare routine!”

Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “Your skincare routine, huh? Sounds fascinating.”

“Shut up,” you shot back playfully, laughter spilling out. But deep down, you felt a thrill at the thought of your feelings for him becoming more public, shared between friends.

Yeji wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, a teasing smile on her face.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. As Sunghoon joined the conversation, you felt a warmth in your heart, realizing how much you had missed this—how much you had missed him.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

You and Sunghoon settled into a rhythm of secrecy and excitement. Every stolen moment felt like a thrilling adventure, each shared smile charged with an energy that left you both breathless. You spent evenings hanging out at parks, grabbing snacks at your favorite convenience store, and reliving old memories. But as your bond deepened, so did the intensity of your feelings.

You both agreed to keep things under wraps for a little while longer, wanting to navigate this new chapter without the pressure of parental expectations looming over you. But sneaking around only added to the thrill, and soon, it became second nature.

One Friday evening, you decided to go on a real date. After all, you had managed to keep things low-key, but you were ready to enjoy being together without the pressure of hiding. You picked a charming little café downtown, a spot you both loved, and as the sun began to set, the place glowed with a warm, inviting ambiance.

You shared a dessert and exchanged playful banter, the world outside fading away. Sunghoon’s laughter felt like music, and each lingering glance seemed to whisper promises of something beautiful. The night was perfect—until it was time to go home.

As you walked down the quiet street, the cool night air wrapping around you, you felt a surge of affection. You turned to Sunghoon, smiling softly, and without thinking, you pulled him into a warm embrace. It felt so right, being close to him, your heart racing at the proximity.

But just as you pulled away, a familiar voice broke the silence. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Startled, you turned to see your parents standing just a few feet away, a mix of surprise and amusement on their faces. Sunghoon’s eyes widened, and you felt your heart drop. “Uh… hey!” you stammered, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

Your mom stepped forward, a knowing smile spreading across her face. “We always knew you two would end up together,” she said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow playfully.

Sunghoon chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, well, this is a bit unexpected.”

Your dad grinned, stepping beside your mom. “You think we wouldn’t notice the way you two look at each other? You’ve been sneaking around, haven’t you?”

You exchanged glances with Sunghoon, a mix of embarrassment and relief flooding through you. “Okay, maybe a little,” you admitted, unable to hide your smile.

“Just a little?” Yeji suddenly appeared from behind your parents, her arms crossed and an amused look on her face. “I could have told you they were dating from the way they looked at each other!”

Your heart raced, but seeing the warmth in your parents’ eyes eased your nerves. “We just wanted to take our time, you know?” you said, looking up at Sunghoon.

Your mom laughed softly. “You kids and your secrets. We were starting to wonder when you would finally tell us!”

Sunghoon relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. “Sorry for keeping it from you, but we wanted to figure things out first.”

Your dad patted Sunghoon on the back. “You’re a good kid. We’re just happy to see you both happy. Just remember to keep it respectful, alright?”

You nodded vigorously, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. As you stood there, surrounded by family and friends, you realized how wonderful it felt to share your happiness openly.

Sunghoon looked at you, his expression softening. “Well, I guess the secret’s out,” he said, smiling broadly.

You chuckled, leaning against him, warmth spreading through you. “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

As you walked home together, hand in hand, you knew this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your lives—one filled with love, laughter, and the promise of many more adventures to come.

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